Perhaps no human experience elicits such a conflicted societal response, as does the phenomenon of pain. Society seems to alternately abhor pain or glorify it, depending on the circumstance. For instance, while pharmaceutical companies pad stratospheric earnings pumping out remedies for every conceivable human malady and discomfort, millions of spectators continue to idolize their favorite football players and pugilists, cheering them on to deliberately inflict as much pain on their opponents as they can manage, (hopefully) within the constraints that the rules of the game allow. Or consider the contrasting reactions generated by a simple visit to the doctor. For every person who trumpets as courageous his own impassive reaction upon receiving a vaccination - "didn't hurt" - there is another who solicits compassion, contending that the very same vaccination procedure was for him a nightmarish experience. And one can only sympathize with the child who assiduously avoids bone-breaking sticks and stones all his young life, only to one day be told that without pain, no gain will be forthcoming.

One particular consideration goes a long way towards explaining societal equivocation regarding the phenomenon of pain. It seems that the fundamental underpinnings of the popular response to pain is that too much pain or too serious a pain is to be pitied and - if possible - avoided, but more moderate, acceptable levels of pain should be borne without too much of a fuss, and hence conquered. The exact line of demarcation between these two categories remains somewhat mysterious (and accounts for the acceptability of the two responses to vaccination listed above), but the extremes of the categories demonstrate that the distinction between them, in principle, is easily observed and understood. Consider the following two examples: 1) An employee who packs up for the day after inadvertently inflicting a paper cut upon himself will not generate much sympathy. But a worker who develops cancer or some other such serious, painful condition will be treated with compassion and concern, even if he misses work for an extended period of time. 2) A child bitten by a mosquito will most likely be encouraged to ignore the itching and carry on with his life; substitute 'shark' for 'mosquito' and the situation, of course, is drastically altered. These theoretical cases seem to illustrate quite nicely the principle now being discussed - namely, that while society endorses the downplaying of minimal amounts of pain, it amplifies the importance of substantial amounts of pain or pain of an extremely serious nature or consequence.

The issue of pain becomes increasingly complex, however, when we consider -rather than pain suffered by one individual - pain suffered by large groups of people. According to the popular conception of pain that we have posited above, it would seem, at first glance, that the greater the number of people who suffer a certain amount of pain, the more the situation would qualify as one involving "substantial amounts of pain or pain of an extremely serious nature or consequence." For example, a hospital ward in which fifteen citizens (Persons 1-15) each pass a kidney stone - [Situation A] - should be considered a more "painful" scenario than that in which only one individual (Person 16), let us say in his apartment, passes a kidney stone [Situation B]. (For the sake of argument, let us assume that the sixteen persons are receiving identical, or no, medical care).

But upon closer scrutiny, it seems not so simple to conclude that Situation A is any worse than Situation B, insofar as pain is concerned. Why not? Well, despite the fact that Situation A involves far more people experiencing significant pain than does Situation B, we would be hard-pressed to explain in just what sense the pain being experienced by various individuals in Situation A could be considered cumulative and thereby outweigh - so to speak - the pain being experienced in Situation B. After all, no single person in Situation A is suffering any more than he himself is suffering. From the perspective of Person 1, the only pain that he actually, experientially, is suffering is his own. The same is true of every other individual in Situation A as well; no matter how sympathetic each member of Situation A might be to the pain of the other members, the fact remains that in no sense does any single member of Situation A share in or feel the 'kidney stone' pain being suffered by the other fourteen persons.

It seems, then, that each member of Situation A should concede that Person 16 from Situation B is undergoing a 'pain experience' that matches his own. Certainly, we would expect Person 16 to argue that his own 'pain experience' rivals that of every other person with same painful condition, no matter how numerous - or densely concentrated spatially - the others might be. And this leads us to a compelling question: If for every person who is experiencing pain in Situations A and B it is not the case that Situation A is worse than Situation B, then for whom - or in exactly what sense - is it the case that Situation A is in fact worse than Situation B?

The only other people involved in our example are, well, we - the observers of Situations A and B. Or, if we want to stick entirely to our hypothetical example, we can now posit that doctors, at the hospital in Situation A and the apartment in Situation B, are well aware of the two Situations and keep each other updated on the condition of all sixteen patients. Maybe we can suggest that for them, the doctors, Situation A is worse than Situation B.

But this approach does not seem particularly satisfying or convincing. Do we really wish to make the argument that pain suffered by many is exceedingly significant only by virtue of the fact that outside observers - who by all account suffer none of the pain of the situation being considered - are aware that many people are suffering? What would justify such a stance? And suppose no outside observers exist; then Situation B would no longer be worse than Situation A. What sort of sense would that make? It appears that this whole line of reasoning - namely, that the significance of widespread suffering depends on the existence and awareness of outside observers - offers little promise. And so our original query retains its cogency: If for every person who is experiencing pain in Situations A and B it is not the case that Situation A is worse than Situation B, then for whom - or in exactly what sense - is it the case that Situation A is in fact worse than Situation B?

One might be tempted to respond to this question by saying, "Well, Situation A 'just is' worse than Situation B." In other words, there is something inherent to the nature of Situations A and B, independent of the pain suffered by Persons 1-16, that renders Situation A worse than Situation B. Extrapolating to more universal terms, we could state the approach as follows: 'The suffering of the many is inherently worse than the suffering of the few.'

This approach seems much more appealing than the 'observer' argument outlined above. There is something that seems rather 'right' about the notion that the suffering of the many is more significant than the suffering of the few. However, it could be argued that even this pronouncement is somewhat arbitrary; sure, the notion sounds rather attractive, but on what grounds is it true? After all, as we have already demonstrated, there is no person for whom 'mass suffering' is actually worse than 'individual suffering.' Can we speak of one situation being worse than another without finding a single representative for whom the 'worse' situation is actually 'worse'? Perhaps we can, but then, perhaps not.

But let us concede for the moment that the suffering of the many is more significant - inherently - than the suffering of the few. For our purpose, the exact reason is not important. However, let us be clear about one thing. Whatever the reason for the significance of the suffering of the many, clearly it is something other than the intensity of the pain being suffered. For, no matter whether one person or one thousand people are suffering pain x, it cannot be said that anyone is suffering anything more than pain x. This principle - that the (presumed) inherent significance of widespread suffering derives not from the intensity of the pain being suffered but from some other source - is an important one; the sequel to this article will explain why.

C.S. Lewis, Eliezer Berkowitz, and Fyodor Dostoyevsky - I am told - raise the issue of 'mass suffering.' My own points, to the best of my knowledge, do not derive from any of their discussions.