The politics of pleasure

With the holiday season coming to an end in the northern hemisphere, we dive into a behavioural exploration of what pleasure means

As many in the northern hemisphere have been enjoying the sunshine on summer holidays, how should we square this with the climate breakdown that in some ways is contributing to this pleasure? Are our holidays in the sun a distraction of “languorous forgetting and fleeting escapism” from the duty and responsibility of taking action to prevent climate apocalypse as Molly MacVeagh asks?

We set this challenge, not to cast a downer on summer holidays, but because it serves as an opening for an exploration of pleasure. Not only has the legitimacy of taking pleasure long been a source of debate, but trying to pin down what we actually mean by the word is surprisingly tricky. One of most famous behavioural science contributions to this is the Marshmallow test, conducted by Walter Mischel in 1970. The research studied delayed pleasure gratification in children by asking pre-schoolers to choose between eating one marshmallow immediately or waiting for two. Mischel found that those who waited tended to have better long-term outcomes, such as higher academic achievement and improved social skills.

Although a more recent study has challenged the link between a child's ability to delay gratification and future success, there is frequently a sense that we are not as good as we should be at curbing our instincts for pleasure. Just recently for example, the apparent desire to satisfy the immediate pleasures of staying under the duvet rather than going to work, led the UK’s then Prime Minister, Rishi Sunak, to claim there was a “sicknote culture.” This is despite other analysis suggesting exactly the opposite, and that in fact people are more likely to engage in presenteeism –detrimentally working through sickness.

So whilst some have suggested pleasure is the ultimate good, suggesting the pursuit of immediate sensory pleasures should guide human conduct, the Sesame Street Cookie Monster instead embodies the more widely accepted cultural narrative in the song “Me want it but me wait.” Arguably this taught a generation of children that pleasure is something to delay rather than ‘succumb’ to.

So what should we make of our complex relationship with pleasure? And what light can behavioural science shine on this issue, so we can better understand the role and importance of pleasure in our lives?

Whose pleasure is it anyway?

There is no shortage of cultural discourse warning us about the dangers of pleasure; this was very much the theme of Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World," where pleasure is wielded as a tool for social control, with the World State using it to maintain stability and suppress individuality. The book depicts a dystopian society where citizens are conditioned to seek constant pleasure through ‘soma’, a drug that eliminates negative emotions, and encourages shallow, emotionless sexual relationships. The lesson is that a focus on immediate pleasure discourages critical thinking, which means deeper intellectual and emotional fulfilment is sacrificed for the societal harmony that pleasure gives us. This is the "doctrine of swine" argument, that pleasure is physical and base, akin to that experienced by animals.

Indeed, it seems judgement is never far from any discourse on pleasure: philosopher Michael Foucault argued that institutions such as the state, church, and educational systems promote certain types of pleasure while suppressing others. In a similar vein of identifying and challenging social controls on pleasure, adrienne maree brown argues that pleasure is a powerful tool against oppressive systems that have historically denied marginalized communities their right to experience it.

Our access to, and experience of, pleasure is clearly something that has deeply political agendas – but at the same time do we really know what we mean by pleasure?

Not purely sensory

When defining pleasure it is tempting to think of it in a one-dimensional, representing a fundamental ‘unit’ that sits underneath human behaviour. We can see this through much psychology: Freudian psychology has the pleasure principle at its core for understanding human motivation; hedonic adaptation describes how our experience of pleasure diminishes from repeated exposure; the peak-end rule that suggests people judge an experience primarily based on the pleasures they feel during its most intense moments.

In contrast, American philosopher Fred Feldman challenges this unitary notion by distinguishing between sensory and attitudinal pleasures. Sensory pleasures are linked to physical sensations, such as the taste of good food. In contrast, attitudinal pleasures involve a positive mental state or attitude, such as the joy of completing a challenging task or the satisfaction of learning something new. These pleasures aren't tied to physical sensations but rather stem from intellectual or emotional engagement.

It is in this vein that Psychologist Paul Bloom’s work suggests pleasure is not merely a result of simple sensory experiences but is intertwined with our beliefs, contexts, and cognitive processes. He argues that pleasure is often shaped by essentialism, where our enjoyment is influenced by what we perceive as the true essence or history of an object or experience. This helps explain the love of holiday souvenirs – the story of finding and buying an object is as much, if not more than the pleasure derived from the item itself.

From me-pleasure to we-pleasure

Building on the idea that pleasure extends beyond the sensory experience and is connected to our beliefs and context, we can start to see the social nature of pleasure. Sociologist Emile Durkheim wrote about the ‘collective effervescence’ of crowds, where pleasure can be gained from a sense of ‘emotional communion’. We can see this is in the “diffuse, headless, communal euphoria” that accompanies bands playing to their loyal fans.

And the political edge to pleasure is again be identified by Barbara Ehrenreich who set out the way that this is true through history with medieval carnivals being rumbunctious affairs of people engaging in pleasure, part of which involved mocking the authorities with peasants imitating kings. Back to the present and the UK’s Notting Hill Carnival, creates shared experiences and a sense of unity while being a symbol of Black Britain and its resilience to celebrate cultural pride in the face of oppression and discrimination.

Leaning on cultural theorist Sara Ahmed, it seems clear that pleasure is not about individual states but social and cultural practices. Her concept of "affective economies" is a useful term to reflect that pleasure is not simply a personal feeling but a shared social practice that reflects cultural norms and values.

We can therefore see the way that pleasure is less about an individual sensory state and more a range of experiences that are bound up in the social-cultural environment we inhabit. But this social-cultural aspect also means we can be led astray from what we really find pleasure in.

The pleasure illusion

Robert Pfaller’s concept of “illusions without owners" suggests we can comply with shared cultural beliefs or narratives, even when we may not consciously endorse or fully believe in them individually. Hence, to return to our theme, going on summer holiday is something that many people find pleasure in but, for some, the pleasure only derived is from going along with social norms rather than reflecting our true values and desires. In these cases some pleasure is to be found through engaging in a shared communal activity (even if the experience itself is not all that enjoyable).

This is an argument for proposing we might not find pleasure in the set-piece ways that have been suggested to us by society (such as summer holidays) but from other sources, such as what might be considered ‘mundane’ activities.

On this, Kathleen Stewart’s work examines how the pleasure of ordinary experiences, what she calls "ordinary affects," are at the heart of the cultural fabric of communities. For example, she describes the pleasure found in routine activities, such as a morning walk, a conversation at a local store, or the comfort of a familiar environment. She highlights the way that pleasure is embedded in daily life and contributes to collective identities. In this way pleasure is not a fleeting emotion but a complex experience that connects individuals to a larger narrative of community and cultural identity. Connected to this is flow theory from psychology, which sets out  how individuals find pleasure and meaning by being fully immersed in activities, living in the moment and finding fulfilment in personal engagement.

Repositioning forbidden fruit?

But to bring us back to where we started – can we find pleasure in something where we feel conflicted about the premise of the pleasure? Given the guilt we feel about experiencing pleasure, (or at least failing to defer it), so often underpins much of our experience of pleasure. Pfaller suggests this can define culture and distinguishes between ‘cultures of belief’, where individuals openly embrace and enjoy shared pleasure, versus ‘cultures of faith’ where pleasure is hidden beneath a veneer of guilt, and self-denial and discipline are fetishized. We can see this in many spheres from alcohol and video games to sex toys and sugar; different cultural narratives shape our understanding of pleasure, where we might find it, what is permissible.

And the places where it is socially permissible to find pleasure is something that will always be a battleground: in the context of sustainability, those concerned about the environment are often seen as inhabiting a ‘culture of faith’, prioritizing responsibility over pleasure. This would be the argument that we should not be enjoying our summer holidays due to climate breakdown. But as MacVeagh points out, some thinkers have started to subvert this binary analysis, and instead rearticulate pleasure as a key element of sustainable activism. She cites Kate Soper’s ‘alternative hedonism’, which emphasises the satisfactions that can come from walking instead of driving and Jiaying Zhao and Elizabeth Dunn’s ‘Happy Climate Project’ that highlights the ways that limiting ones carbon footprint can result in pleasure through a greater sense of ‘time affluence’. So we are not pleasure deniers if we decide to give the traditional summer holiday a miss, we can simply find pleasure in other, less socially agreed ways.

Strategic indulgence

But what about the way it seems we tend to emphasise the importance of deferring pleasure? It is surely symptomatic of current societal norms that the Marshmallow Test, which portrays experiencing pleasure as failure of self-control, gets so much publicity despite there being plenty of other research that supports the idea that ‘giving in’ to desires is beneficial. Rita Coelho do Vale's study, "The Benefits of Behaving Badly on Occasion," found dieters who planned for indulgence days felt more positive and motivated, helping them stick to their diets long-term. Similar findings were noted by Virgina McClurg in a study comparing students with high and low academic performance  at U.S. universities. High-performing students strategically ‘indulged’ in college sports games, taking breaks to enjoy themselves and then compensating with extra study time before and after the events. This approach provided them with greater enjoyment and a better psychological state, enhancing their academic performance. McClurg’s research suggests this ‘strategic indulgence’ increases autonomy and may help prevent procrastination.

In conclusion

Common media narratives about pleasure suggest they are basic, sensory experiences aimed at maximizing enjoyment and minimizing pain. And while there is some truth to this, the reality is much more nuanced – what we agree is pleasurable is not something individually determined but is bound up with social, cultural and political norms and narratives. In some ways we could even see pleasure as one of the most significant battlegrounds we encounter, being used to strategically position some people as ‘party poopers’ or ‘buzz kills’ based on their pleasure preferences.

Many companies have pleasure as part of their core proposition, but perhaps do not always recognise its contingent nature: a deeper understanding is needed to engage different segments of the population who will have very different approaches to pleasure (e.g. cultures of belief versus cultures of faith).  And groups seeking to encourage sustainable behaviour change in the population, could perhaps play with and challenge conventions about what is ‘allowed’ to be pleasurable versus what is not.