THE greatest good for the greatest number: is it any surprise that utilitarianism was such an attractive political philosophy for a late teenage law student like me? Jeremy Bentham created an enduring measure of right and wrong by floating the notion that when there are more people enjoying more happiness then the world is a better place. Seems self-evident; but his “fundamental axiom” has yet to truly take hold.

His desire for post-mortem memorialisation has, however, been realised. The kooky social reformer and political thinker always wanted his remains to be preserved after his passing. And since his death in 1832, Bentham's “auto-icon” – his preserved skeleton, fully dressed and topped by a wax head – has been on display in a glass case at University College London.

This philosophical visionary had many other eccentricities. He called his walking stick Dapple, his teapot Dickey and his cat, wait for it, Reverend Sir John Langbourne.

Almost two centuries after his death, Bentham's ambition to visit America is being realised. His “auto-icon” is being transported to the US, a journey he never made in life. The father of modern philosophy will appear at the New York Met’s Like Life: Sculpture, Color (sic) and the Body, 1300 to now.

The exhibition will showcase seven centuries of international works, with Jeremy being the centrepiece. Having had a full inspection and spring-clean (stripped down to his underwear, no less) to ensure that he wasn’t “infested” by any wee beasties or bugs , its quite remarkable how intricate the construction of the “living Bentham” truly is.

It’s fascinating that, despite having had such a profound impact on political thinking, Bentham makes his transatlantic travels at a time when that country has never been further away from his philosophy. In the aftermath of the American Civil war, Bentham’s “greatest good for the greatest number” was translated into the notion that the newly freed slaves be given “40 acres and a mule” by way of redistributing the wealth that their slavery had helped create; Bentham was at the very epicentre of the new republic.

Trumpian America, with its lurch to the right and adoption of obsessive compulsive identity politics, would make Bentham spin in his grave; if he had actually ever been buried.

For a man born some 260 years ago, Bentham was a genuine visionary. His thoughts developed the idea of “welfarism”, the founding principles of freedom of expression, the separation of church and state along with radical notions such as gender equality, the abolition of slavery and the decriminalisation of homosexuality. (Today’s Scotland, for all its flaws and foibles, would be markedly less socially aware had it not been for Bentham, who influenced the great Robert Owen and his Lanark project.)

Today, America is a country divided over race, coping with endemic misogyny at its very heart and still failing to deal with the legacy of slavery. So while the great stuffed man might be thrilled to be finally voyaging westward, he’d be heartbroken that so little progress has been made in the time since his death.

I’ve always been a fan of utilitarianism, Bentham and his many disciples and believers. At these times, when we find ourselves inveigled in the ignominy of injustice, be it stateside or on our own Brexiting borders, it is easy to become pessimistic about the prospects for change and genuine social progress. But it’s worth holding firm the idea that, if a man like Bentham could propound such profound political philosophies all those centuries ago, then maybe there is hope for civilisation.

The world has come to a pretty pass if it takes the stuffed corpse of a 19th-century philosopher for us to realise all that we can be. And while all our yesterdays might have lighted fools on the road to dusty death, some people, some thoughts and some ideals live on beyond our passing. And maybe one day the greatest number will finally enjoy the greatest good.