Aristotle
384-322 B.C.E. - Wrote in Greek
Nicomachean Ethics
Written 350 B.C.E
Translated by W. D. Ross
Nicomachean Ethics
By Aristotle
Book I
1
Every art and every inquiry, and similarly every action and pursuit,
is thought to aim at some good; and for this reason the good has rightly
been declared to be that at which all things aim. But a certain difference
is found among ends; some are activities, others are products apart from
the activities that produce them. Where there are ends apart from the actions,
it is the nature of the products to be better than the activities. Now,
as there are many actions, arts, and sciences, their ends also are many;
the end of the medical art is health, that of shipbuilding a vessel, that
of strategy victory, that of economics wealth. But where such arts fall
under a single capacity- as bridle-making and the other arts concerned
with the equipment of horses fall under the art of riding, and this and
every military action under strategy, in the same way other arts fall under
yet others- in all of these the ends of the master arts are to be preferred
to all the subordinate ends; for it is for the sake of the former that
the latter are pursued. It makes no difference whether the activities themselves
are the ends of the actions, or something else apart from the activities,
as in the case of the sciences just mentioned.
2
If, then, there is some end of the things we do, which we desire
for its own sake (everything else being desired for the sake of this),
and if we do not choose everything for the sake of something else (for
at that rate the process would go on to infinity, so that our desire would
be empty and vain), clearly this must be the good and the chief good. Will
not the knowledge of it, then, have a great influence on life? Shall we
not, like archers who have a mark to aim at, be more likely to hit upon
what is right? If so, we must try, in outline at least, to determine what
it is, and of which of the sciences or capacities it is the object. It
would seem to belong to the most authoritative art and that which is most
truly the master art. And politics appears to be of this nature; for it
is this that ordains which of the sciences should be studied in a state,
and which each class of citizens should learn and up to what point they
should learn them; and we see even the most highly esteemed of capacities
to fall under this, e.g. strategy, economics, rhetoric; now, since politics
uses the rest of the sciences, and since, again, it legislates as to what
we are to do and what we are to abstain from, the end of this science must
include those of the others, so that this end must be the good for man.
For even if the end is the same for a single man and for a state, that
of the state seems at all events something greater and more complete whether
to attain or to preserve; though it is worth while to attain the end merely
for one man, it is finer and more godlike to attain it for a nation or
for city-states. These, then, are the ends at which our inquiry aims, since
it is political science, in one sense of that term.
3
Our discussion will be adequate if it has as much clearness as
the subject-matter admits of, for precision is not to be sought for alike
in all discussions, any more than in all the products of the crafts. Now
fine and just actions, which political science investigates, admit of much
variety and fluctuation of opinion, so that they may be thought to exist
only by convention, and not by nature. And goods also give rise to a similar
fluctuation because they bring harm to many people; for before now men
have been undone by reason of their wealth, and others by reason of their
courage. We must be content, then, in speaking of such subjects and with
such premisses to indicate the truth roughly and in outline, and in speaking
about things which are only for the most part true and with premisses of
the same kind to reach conclusions that are no better. In the same spirit,
therefore, should each type of statement be received; for it is the mark
of an educated man to look for precision in each class of things just so
far as the nature of the subject admits; it is evidently equally foolish
to accept probable reasoning from a mathematician and to demand from a
rhetorician scientific proofs.
Now each man judges well the things he knows, and of these he is
a good judge. And so the man who has been educated in a subject is a good
judge of that subject, and the man who has received an all-round education
is a good judge in general. Hence a young man is not a proper hearer of
lectures on political science; for he is inexperienced in the actions that
occur in life, but its discussions start from these and are about these;
and, further, since he tends to follow his passions, his study will be
vain and unprofitable, because the end aimed at is not knowledge but action.
And it makes no difference whether he is young in years or youthful in
character; the defect does not depend on time, but on his living, and pursuing
each successive object, as passion directs. For to such persons, as to
the incontinent, knowledge brings no profit; but to those who desire and
act in accordance with a rational principle knowledge about such matters
will be of great benefit.
These remarks about the student, the sort of treatment to be expected,
and the purpose of the inquiry, may be taken as our
preface.
4
Let us resume our inquiry and state, in view of the fact that all
knowledge and every pursuit aims at some good, what it is that we say political
science aims at and what is the highest of all goods achievable by action.
Verbally there is very general agreement; for both the general run of men
and people of superior refinement say that it is happiness, and identify
living well and doing well with being happy; but with regard to what happiness
is they differ, and the many do not give the same account as the wise.
For the former think it is some plain and obvious thing, like pleasure,
wealth, or honour; they differ, however, from one another- and often even
the same man identifies it with different things, with health when he is
ill, with wealth when he is poor; but, conscious of their ignorance, they
admire those who proclaim some great ideal that is above their comprehension.
Now some thought that apart from these many goods there is another which
is self-subsistent and causes the goodness of all these as well. To examine
all the opinions that have been held were perhaps somewhat fruitless; enough
to examine those that are most prevalent or that seem to be
arguable.
Let us not fail to notice, however, that there is a difference
between arguments from and those to the first principles. For Plato, too,
was right in raising this question and asking, as he used to do, 'are we
on the way from or to the first principles?' There is a difference, as
there is in a race-course between the course from the judges to the turning-point
and the way back. For, while we must begin with what is known, things are
objects of knowledge in two senses- some to us, some without qualification.
Presumably, then, we must begin with things known to us. Hence any one
who is to listen intelligently to lectures about what is noble and just,
and generally, about the subjects of political science must have been brought
up in good habits. For the fact is the starting-point, and if this is sufficiently
plain to him, he will not at the start need the reason as well; and the
man who has been well brought up has or can easily get startingpoints.
And as for him who neither has nor can get them, let him hear the words
of Hesiod:
Far best is he who knows all things himself;
Good, he that hearkens when men counsel right;
But he who neither knows, nor lays to heart
Another's wisdom, is a useless wight.
5
Let us, however, resume our discussion from the point at which
we digressed. To judge from the lives that men lead, most men, and men
of the most vulgar type, seem (not without some ground) to identify the
good, or happiness, with pleasure; which is the reason why they love the
life of enjoyment. For there are, we may say, three prominent types of
life- that just mentioned, the political, and thirdly the contemplative
life. Now the mass of mankind are evidently quite slavish in their tastes,
preferring a life suitable to beasts, but they get some ground for their
view from the fact that many of those in high places share the tastes of
Sardanapallus. A consideration of the prominent types of life shows that
people of superior refinement and of active disposition identify happiness
with honour; for this is, roughly speaking, the end of the political life.
But it seems too superficial to be what we are looking for, since it is
thought to depend on those who bestow honour rather than on him who receives
it, but the good we divine to be something proper to a man and not easily
taken from him. Further, men seem to pursue honour in order that they may
be assured of their goodness; at least it is by men of practical wisdom
that they seek to be honoured, and among those who know them, and on the
ground of their virtue; clearly, then, according to them, at any rate,
virtue is better. And perhaps one might even suppose this to be, rather
than honour, the end of the political life. But even this appears somewhat
incomplete; for possession of virtue seems actually compatible with being
asleep, or with lifelong inactivity, and, further, with the greatest sufferings
and misfortunes; but a man who was living so no one would call happy, unless
he were maintaining a thesis at all costs. But enough of this; for the
subject has been sufficiently treated even in the current discussions.
Third comes the contemplative life, which we shall consider
later.
The life of money-making is one undertaken under compulsion, and
wealth is evidently not the good we are seeking; for it is merely useful
and for the sake of something else. And so one might rather take the aforenamed
objects to be ends; for they are loved for themselves. But it is evident
that not even these are ends; yet many arguments have been thrown away
in support of them. Let us leave this subject, then.
6
We had perhaps better consider the universal good and discuss thoroughly
what is meant by it, although such an inquiry is made an uphill one by
the fact that the Forms have been introduced by friends of our own. Yet
it would perhaps be thought to be better, indeed to be our duty, for the
sake of maintaining the truth even to destroy what touches us closely,
especially as we are philosophers or lovers of wisdom; for, while both
are dear, piety requires us to honour truth above our
friends.
The men who introduced this doctrine did not posit Ideas of classes
within which they recognized priority and posteriority (which is the reason
why they did not maintain the existence of an Idea embracing all numbers);
but the term 'good' is used both in the category of substance and in that
of quality and in that of relation, and that which is per se, i.e. substance,
is prior in nature to the relative (for the latter is like an off shoot
and accident of being); so that there could not be a common Idea set over
all these goods. Further, since 'good' has as many senses as 'being' (for
it is predicated both in the category of substance, as of God and of reason,
and in quality, i.e. of the virtues, and in quantity, i.e. of that which
is moderate, and in relation, i.e. of the useful, and in time, i.e. of
the right opportunity, and in place, i.e. of the right locality and the
like), clearly it cannot be something universally present in all cases
and single; for then it could not have been predicated in all the categories
but in one only. Further, since of the things answering to one Idea there
is one science, there would have been one science of all the goods; but
as it is there are many sciences even of the things that fall under one
category, e.g. of opportunity, for opportunity in war is studied by strategics
and in disease by medicine, and the moderate in food is studied by medicine
and in exercise by the science of gymnastics. And one might ask the question,
what in the world they mean by 'a thing itself', is (as is the case) in
'man himself' and in a particular man the account of man is one and the
same. For in so far as they are man, they will in no respect differ; and
if this is so, neither will 'good itself' and particular goods, in so far
as they are good. But again it will not be good any the more for being
eternal, since that which lasts long is no whiter than that which perishes
in a day. The Pythagoreans seem to give a more plausible account of the
good, when they place the one in the column of goods; and it is they that
Speusippus seems to have followed.
But let us discuss these matters elsewhere; an objection to what
we have said, however, may be discerned in the fact that the Platonists
have not been speaking about all goods, and that the goods that are pursued
and loved for themselves are called good by reference to a single Form,
while those which tend to produce or to preserve these somehow or to prevent
their contraries are called so by reference to these, and in a secondary
sense. Clearly, then, goods must be spoken of in two ways, and some must
be good in themselves, the others by reason of these. Let us separate,
then, things good in themselves from things useful, and consider whether
the former are called good by reference to a single Idea. What sort of
goods would one call good in themselves? Is it those that are pursued even
when isolated from others, such as intelligence, sight, and certain pleasures
and honours? Certainly, if we pursue these also for the sake of something
else, yet one would place them among things good in themselves. Or is nothing
other than the Idea of good good in itself? In that case the Form will
be empty. But if the things we have named are also things good in themselves,
the account of the good will have to appear as something identical in them
all, as that of whiteness is identical in snow and in white lead. But of
honour, wisdom, and pleasure, just in respect of their goodness, the accounts
are distinct and diverse. The good, therefore, is not some common element
answering to one Idea.
But what then do we mean by the good? It is surely not like the
things that only chance to have the same name. Are goods one, then, by
being derived from one good or by all contributing to one good, or are
they rather one by analogy? Certainly as sight is in the body, so is reason
in the soul, and so on in other cases. But perhaps these subjects had better
be dismissed for the present; for perfect precision about them would be
more appropriate to another branch of philosophy. And similarly with regard
to the Idea; even if there is some one good which is universally predicable
of goods or is capable of separate and independent existence, clearly it
could not be achieved or attained by man; but we are now seeking something
attainable. Perhaps, however, some one might think it worth while to recognize
this with a view to the goods that are attainable and achievable; for having
this as a sort of pattern we shall know better the goods that are good
for us, and if we know them shall attain them. This argument has some plausibility,
but seems to clash with the procedure of the sciences; for all of these,
though they aim at some good and seek to supply the deficiency of it, leave
on one side the knowledge of the good. Yet that all the exponents of the
arts should be ignorant of, and should not even seek, so great an aid is
not probable. It is hard, too, to see how a weaver or a carpenter will
be benefited in regard to his own craft by knowing this 'good itself',
or how the man who has viewed the Idea itself will be a better doctor or
general thereby. For a doctor seems not even to study health in this way,
but the health of man, or perhaps rather the health of a particular man;
it is individuals that he is healing. But enough of these
topics.
7
Let us again return to the good we are seeking, and ask what it
can be. It seems different in different actions and arts; it is different
in medicine, in strategy, and in the other arts likewise. What then is
the good of each? Surely that for whose sake everything else is done. In
medicine this is health, in strategy victory, in architecture a house,
in any other sphere something else, and in every action and pursuit the
end; for it is for the sake of this that all men do whatever else they
do. Therefore, if there is an end for all that we do, this will be the
good achievable by action, and if there are more than one, these will be
the goods achievable by action.
So the argument has by a different course reached the same point;
but we must try to state this even more clearly. Since there are evidently
more than one end, and we choose some of these (e.g. wealth, flutes, and
in general instruments) for the sake of something else, clearly not all
ends are final ends; but the chief good is evidently something final. Therefore,
if there is only one final end, this will be what we are seeking, and if
there are more than one, the most final of these will be what we are seeking.
Now we call that which is in itself worthy of pursuit more final than that
which is worthy of pursuit for the sake of something else, and that which
is never desirable for the sake of something else more final than the things
that are desirable both in themselves and for the sake of that other thing,
and therefore we call final without qualification that which is always
desirable in itself and never for the sake of something
else.
Now such a thing happiness, above all else, is held to be; for
this we choose always for self and never for the sake of something else,
but honour, pleasure, reason, and every virtue we choose indeed for themselves
(for if nothing resulted from them we should still choose each of them),
but we choose them also for the sake of happiness, judging that by means
of them we shall be happy. Happiness, on the other hand, no one chooses
for the sake of these, nor, in general, for anything other than
itself.
From the point of view of self-sufficiency the same result seems
to follow; for the final good is thought to be self-sufficient. Now by
self-sufficient we do not mean that which is sufficient for a man by himself,
for one who lives a solitary life, but also for parents, children, wife,
and in general for his friends and fellow citizens, since man is born for
citizenship. But some limit must be set to this; for if we extend our requirement
to ancestors and descendants and friends' friends we are in for an infinite
series. Let us examine this question, however, on another occasion; the
self-sufficient we now define as that which when isolated makes life desirable
and lacking in nothing; and such we think happiness to be; and further
we think it most desirable of all things, without being counted as one
good thing among others- if it were so counted it would clearly be made
more desirable by the addition of even the least of goods; for that which
is added becomes an excess of goods, and of goods the greater is always
more desirable. Happiness, then, is something final and self-sufficient,
and is the end of action.
Presumably, however, to say that happiness is the chief good seems
a platitude, and a clearer account of what it is still desired. This might
perhaps be given, if we could first ascertain the function of man. For
just as for a flute-player, a sculptor, or an artist, and, in general,
for all things that have a function or activity, the good and the 'well'
is thought to reside in the function, so would it seem to be for man, if
he has a function. Have the carpenter, then, and the tanner certain functions
or activities, and has man none? Is he born without a function? Or as eye,
hand, foot, and in general each of the parts evidently has a function,
may one lay it down that man similarly has a function apart from all these?
What then can this be? Life seems to be common even to plants, but we are
seeking what is peculiar to man. Let us exclude, therefore, the life of
nutrition and growth. Next there would be a life of perception, but it
also seems to be common even to the horse, the ox, and every animal. There
remains, then, an active life of the element that has a rational principle;
of this, one part has such a principle in the sense of being obedient to
one, the other in the sense of possessing one and exercising thought. And,
as 'life of the rational element' also has two meanings, we must state
that life in the sense of activity is what we mean; for this seems to be
the more proper sense of the term. Now if the function of man is an activity
of soul which follows or implies a rational principle, and if we say 'so-and-so-and
'a good so-and-so' have a function which is the same in kind, e.g. a lyre,
and a good lyre-player, and so without qualification in all cases, eminence
in respect of goodness being idded to the name of the function (for the
function of a lyre-player is to play the lyre, and that of a good lyre-player
is to do so well): if this is the case, and we state the function of man
to be a certain kind of life, and this to be an activity or actions of
the soul implying a rational principle, and the function of a good man
to be the good and noble performance of these, and if any action is well
performed when it is performed in accordance with the appropriate excellence:
if this is the case, human good turns out to be activity of soul in accordance
with virtue, and if there are more than one virtue, in accordance with
the best and most complete.
But we must add 'in a complete life.' For one swallow does not
make a summer, nor does one day; and so too one day, or a short time, does
not make a man blessed and happy.
Let this serve as an outline of the good; for we must presumably
first sketch it roughly, and then later fill in the details. But it would
seem that any one is capable of carrying on and articulating what has once
been well outlined, and that time is a good discoverer or partner in such
a work; to which facts the advances of the arts are due; for any one can
add what is lacking. And we must also remember what has been said before,
and not look for precision in all things alike, but in each class of things
such precision as accords with the subject-matter, and so much as is appropriate
to the inquiry. For a carpenter and a geometer investigate the right angle
in different ways; the former does so in so far as the right angle is useful
for his work, while the latter inquires what it is or what sort of thing
it is; for he is a spectator of the truth. We must act in the same way,
then, in all other matters as well, that our main task may not be subordinated
to minor questions. Nor must we demand the cause in all matters alike;
it is enough in some cases that the fact be well established, as in the
case of the first principles; the fact is the primary thing or first principle.
Now of first principles we see some by induction, some by perception, some
by a certain habituation, and others too in other ways. But each set of
principles we must try to investigate in the natural way, and we must take
pains to state them definitely, since they have a great influence on what
follows. For the beginning is thought to be more than half of the whole,
and many of the questions we ask are cleared up by it.
8
We must consider it, however, in the light not only of our conclusion
and our premisses, but also of what is commonly said about it; for with
a true view all the data harmonize, but with a false one the facts soon
clash. Now goods have been divided into three classes, and some are described
as external, others as relating to soul or to body; we call those that
relate to soul most properly and truly goods, and psychical actions and
activities we class as relating to soul. Therefore our account must be
sound, at least according to this view, which is an old one and agreed
on by philosophers. It is correct also in that we identify the end with
certain actions and activities; for thus it falls among goods of the soul
and not among external goods. Another belief which harmonizes with our
account is that the happy man lives well and does well; for we have practically
defined happiness as a sort of good life and good action. The characteristics
that are looked for in happiness seem also, all of them, to belong to what
we have defined happiness as being. For some identify happiness with virtue,
some with practical wisdom, others with a kind of philosophic wisdom, others
with these, or one of these, accompanied by pleasure or not without pleasure;
while others include also external prosperity. Now some of these views
have been held by many men and men of old, others by a few eminent persons;
and it is not probable that either of these should be entirely mistaken,
but rather that they should be right in at least some one respect or even
in most respects.
With those who identify happiness with virtue or some one virtue
our account is in harmony; for to virtue belongs virtuous activity. But
it makes, perhaps, no small difference whether we place the chief good
in possession or in use, in state of mind or in activity. For the state
of mind may exist without producing any good result, as in a man who is
asleep or in some other way quite inactive, but the activity cannot; for
one who has the activity will of necessity be acting, and acting well.
And as in the Olympic Games it is not the most beautiful and the strongest
that are crowned but those who compete (for it is some of these that are
victorious), so those who act win, and rightly win, the noble and good
things in life.
Their life is also in itself pleasant. For pleasure is a state
of soul, and to each man that which he is said to be a lover of is pleasant;
e.g. not only is a horse pleasant to the lover of horses, and a spectacle
to the lover of sights, but also in the same way just acts are pleasant
to the lover of justice and in general virtuous acts to the lover of virtue.
Now for most men their pleasures are in conflict with one another because
these are not by nature pleasant, but the lovers of what is noble find
pleasant the things that are by nature pleasant; and virtuous actions are
such, so that these are pleasant for such men as well as in their own nature.
Their life, therefore, has no further need of pleasure as a sort of adventitious
charm, but has its pleasure in itself. For, besides what we have said,
the man who does not rejoice in noble actions is not even good; since no
one would call a man just who did not enjoy acting justly, nor any man
liberal who did not enjoy liberal actions; and similarly in all other cases.
If this is so, virtuous actions must be in themselves pleasant. But they
are also good and noble, and have each of these attributes in the highest
degree, since the good man judges well about these attributes; his judgement
is such as we have described. Happiness then is the best, noblest, and
most pleasant thing in the world, and these attributes are not severed
as in the inscription at Delos-
Most noble is that which is justest, and best is
health;
But pleasantest is it to win what we love.
For all these properties belong to the best activities; and these,
or one- the best- of these, we identify with happiness.
Yet evidently, as we said, it needs the external goods as well;
for it is impossible, or not easy, to do noble acts without the proper
equipment. In many actions we use friends and riches and political power
as instruments; and there are some things the lack of which takes the lustre
from happiness, as good birth, goodly children, beauty; for the man who
is very ugly in appearance or ill-born or solitary and childless is not
very likely to be happy, and perhaps a man would be still less likely if
he had thoroughly bad children or friends or had lost good children or
friends by death. As we said, then, happiness seems to need this sort of
prosperity in addition; for which reason some identify happiness with good
fortune, though others identify it with virtue.
9
For this reason also the question is asked, whether happiness is
to be acquired by learning or by habituation or some other sort of training,
or comes in virtue of some divine providence or again by chance. Now if
there is any gift of the gods to men, it is reasonable that happiness should
be god-given, and most surely god-given of all human things inasmuch as
it is the best. But this question would perhaps be more appropriate to
another inquiry; happiness seems, however, even if it is not god-sent but
comes as a result of virtue and some process of learning or training, to
be among the most godlike things; for that which is the prize and end of
virtue seems to be the best thing in the world, and something godlike and
blessed.
It will also on this view be very generally shared; for all who
are not maimed as regards their potentiality for virtue may win it by a
certain kind of study and care. But if it is better to be happy thus than
by chance, it is reasonable that the facts should be so, since everything
that depends on the action of nature is by nature as good as it can be,
and similarly everything that depends on art or any rational cause, and
especially if it depends on the best of all causes. To entrust to chance
what is greatest and most noble would be a very defective
arrangement.
The answer to the question we are asking is plain also from the
definition of happiness; for it has been said to be a virtuous activity
of soul, of a certain kind. Of the remaining goods, some must necessarily
pre-exist as conditions of happiness, and others are naturally co-operative
and useful as instruments. And this will be found to agree with what we
said at the outset; for we stated the end of political science to be the
best end, and political science spends most of its pains on making the
citizens to be of a certain character, viz. good and capable of noble
acts.
It is natural, then, that we call neither ox nor horse nor any
other of the animals happy; for none of them is capable of sharing in such
activity. For this reason also a boy is not happy; for he is not yet capable
of such acts, owing to his age; and boys who are called happy are being
congratulated by reason of the hopes we have for them. For there is required,
as we said, not only complete virtue but also a complete life, since many
changes occur in life, and all manner of chances, and the most prosperous
may fall into great misfortunes in old age, as is told of Priam in the
Trojan Cycle; and one who has experienced such chances and has ended wretchedly
no one calls happy.
10
Must no one at all, then, be called happy while he lives; must
we, as Solon says, see the end? Even if we are to lay down this doctrine,
is it also the case that a man is happy when he is dead? Or is not this
quite absurd, especially for us who say that happiness is an activity?
But if we do not call the dead man happy, and if Solon does not mean this,
but that one can then safely call a man blessed as being at last beyond
evils and misfortunes, this also affords matter for discussion; for both
evil and good are thought to exist for a dead man, as much as for one who
is alive but not aware of them; e.g. honours and dishonours and the good
or bad fortunes of children and in general of descendants. And this also
presents a problem; for though a man has lived happily up to old age and
has had a death worthy of his life, many reverses may befall his descendants-
some of them may be good and attain the life they deserve, while with others
the opposite may be the case; and clearly too the degrees of relationship
between them and their ancestors may vary indefinitely. It would be odd,
then, if the dead man were to share in these changes and become at one
time happy, at another wretched; while it would also be odd if the fortunes
of the descendants did not for some time have some effect on the happiness
of their ancestors.
But we must return to our first difficulty; for perhaps by a consideration
of it our present problem might be solved. Now if we must see the end and
only then call a man happy, not as being happy but as having been so before,
surely this is a paradox, that when he is happy the attribute that belongs
to him is not to be truly predicated of him because we do not wish to call
living men happy, on account of the changes that may befall them, and because
we have assumed happiness to be something permanent and by no means easily
changed, while a single man may suffer many turns of fortune's wheel. For
clearly if we were to keep pace with his fortunes, we should often call
the same man happy and again wretched, making the happy man out to be chameleon
and insecurely based. Or is this keeping pace with his fortunes quite wrong?
Success or failure in life does not depend on these, but human life, as
we said, needs these as mere additions, while virtuous activities or their
opposites are what constitute happiness or the reverse.
The question we have now discussed confirms our definition. For
no function of man has so much permanence as virtuous activities (these
are thought to be more durable even than knowledge of the sciences), and
of these themselves the most valuable are more durable because those who
are happy spend their life most readily and most continuously in these;
for this seems to be the reason why we do not forget them. The attribute
in question, then, will belong to the happy man, and he will be happy throughout
his life; for always, or by preference to everything else, he will be engaged
in virtuous action and contemplation, and he will bear the chances of life
most nobly and altogether decorously, if he is 'truly good' and 'foursquare
beyond reproach'.
Now many events happen by chance, and events differing in importance;
small pieces of good fortune or of its opposite clearly do not weigh down
the scales of life one way or the other, but a multitude of great events
if they turn out well will make life happier (for not only are they themselves
such as to add beauty to life, but the way a man deals with them may be
noble and good), while if they turn out ill they crush and maim happiness;
for they both bring pain with them and hinder many activities. Yet even
in these nobility shines through, when a man bears with resignation many
great misfortunes, not through insensibility to pain but through nobility
and greatness of soul.
If activities are, as we said, what gives life its character, no
happy man can become miserable; for he will never do the acts that are
hateful and mean. For the man who is truly good and wise, we think, bears
all the chances life becomingly and always makes the best of circumstances,
as a good general makes the best military use of the army at his command
and a good shoemaker makes the best shoes out of the hides that are given
him; and so with all other craftsmen. And if this is the case, the happy
man can never become miserable; though he will not reach blessedness, if
he meet with fortunes like those of Priam.
Nor, again, is he many-coloured and changeable; for neither will
he be moved from his happy state easily or by any ordinary misadventures,
but only by many great ones, nor, if he has had many great misadventures,
will he recover his happiness in a short time, but if at all, only in a
long and complete one in which he has attained many splendid
successes.
When then should we not say that he is happy who is active in accordance
with complete virtue and is sufficiently equipped with external goods,
not for some chance period but throughout a complete life? Or must we add
'and who is destined to live thus and die as befits his life'? Certainly
the future is obscure to us, while happiness, we claim, is an end and something
in every way final. If so, we shall call happy those among living men in
whom these conditions are, and are to be, fulfilled- but happy men. So
much for these questions.
11
That the fortunes of descendants and of all a man's friends should
not affect his happiness at all seems a very unfriendly doctrine, and one
opposed to the opinions men hold; but since the events that happen are
numerous and admit of all sorts of difference, and some come more near
to us and others less so, it seems a long- nay, an infinite- task to discuss
each in detail; a general outline will perhaps suffice. If, then, as some
of a man's own misadventures have a certain weight and influence on life
while others are, as it were, lighter, so too there are differences among
the misadventures of our friends taken as a whole, and it makes a difference
whether the various suffering befall the living or the dead (much more
even than whether lawless and terrible deeds are presupposed in a tragedy
or done on the stage), this difference also must be taken into account;
or rather, perhaps, the fact that doubt is felt whether the dead share
in any good or evil. For it seems, from these considerations, that even
if anything whether good or evil penetrates to them, it must be something
weak and negligible, either in itself or for them, or if not, at least
it must be such in degree and kind as not to make happy those who are not
happy nor to take away their blessedness from those who are. The good or
bad fortunes of friends, then, seem to have some effects on the dead, but
effects of such a kind and degree as neither to make the happy unhappy
nor to produce any other change of the kind.
12
These questions having been definitely answered, let us consider
whether happiness is among the things that are praised or rather among
the things that are prized; for clearly it is not to be placed among potentialities.
Everything that is praised seems to be praised because it is of a certain
kind and is related somehow to something else; for we praise the just or
brave man and in general both the good man and virtue itself because of
the actions and functions involved, and we praise the strong man, the good
runner, and so on, because he is of a certain kind and is related in a
certain way to something good and important. This is clear also from the
praises of the gods; for it seems absurd that the gods should be referred
to our standard, but this is done because praise involves a reference,
to something else. But if if praise is for things such as we have described,
clearly what applies to the best things is not praise, but something greater
and better, as is indeed obvious; for what we do to the gods and the most
godlike of men is to call them blessed and happy. And so too with good
things; no one praises happiness as he does justice, but rather calls it
blessed, as being something more divine and better.
Eudoxus also seems to have been right in his method of advocating
the supremacy of pleasure; he thought that the fact that, though a good,
it is not praised indicated it to be better than the things that are praised,
and that this is what God and the good are; for by reference to these all
other things are judged. Praise is appropriate to virtue, for as a result
of virtue men tend to do noble deeds, but encomia are bestowed on acts,
whether of the body or of the soul. But perhaps nicety in these matters
is more proper to those who have made a study of encomia; to us it is clear
from what has been said that happiness is among the things that are prized
and perfect. It seems to be so also from the fact that it is a first principle;
for it is for the sake of this that we all do all that we do, and the first
principle and cause of goods is, we claim, something prized and
divine.
13
Since happiness is an activity of soul in accordance with perfect
virtue, we must consider the nature of virtue; for perhaps we shall thus
see better the nature of happiness. The true student of politics, too,
is thought to have studied virtue above all things; for he wishes to make
his fellow citizens good and obedient to the laws. As an example of this
we have the lawgivers of the Cretans and the Spartans, and any others of
the kind that there may have been. And if this inquiry belongs to political
science, clearly the pursuit of it will be in accordance with our original
plan. But clearly the virtue we must study is human virtue; for the good
we were seeking was human good and the happiness human happiness. By human
virtue we mean not that of the body but that of the soul; and happiness
also we call an activity of soul. But if this is so, clearly the student
of politics must know somehow the facts about soul, as the man who is to
heal the eyes or the body as a whole must know about the eyes or the body;
and all the more since politics is more prized and better than medicine;
but even among doctors the best educated spend much labour on acquiring
knowledge of the body. The student of politics, then, must study the soul,
and must study it with these objects in view, and do so just to the extent
which is sufficient for the questions we are discussing; for further precision
is perhaps something more laborious than our purposes
require.
Some things are said about it, adequately enough, even in the discussions
outside our school, and we must use these; e.g. that one element in the
soul is irrational and one has a rational principle. Whether these are
separated as the parts of the body or of anything divisible are, or are
distinct by definition but by nature inseparable, like convex and concave
in the circumference of a circle, does not affect the present
question.
Of the irrational element one division seems to be widely distributed,
and vegetative in its nature, I mean that which causes nutrition and growth;
for it is this kind of power of the soul that one must assign to all nurslings
and to embryos, and this same power to fullgrown creatures; this is more
reasonable than to assign some different power to them. Now the excellence
of this seems to be common to all species and not specifically human; for
this part or faculty seems to function most in sleep, while goodness and
badness are least manifest in sleep (whence comes the saying that the happy
are not better off than the wretched for half their lives; and this happens
naturally enough, since sleep is an inactivity of the soul in that respect
in which it is called good or bad), unless perhaps to a small extent some
of the movements actually penetrate to the soul, and in this respect the
dreams of good men are better than those of ordinary people. Enough of
this subject, however; let us leave the nutritive faculty alone, since
it has by its nature no share in human excellence.
There seems to be also another irrational element in the soul-one
which in a sense, however, shares in a rational principle. For we praise
the rational principle of the continent man and of the incontinent, and
the part of their soul that has such a principle, since it urges them aright
and towards the best objects; but there is found in them also another element
naturally opposed to the rational principle, which fights against and resists
that principle. For exactly as paralysed limbs when we intend to move them
to the right turn on the contrary to the left, so is it with the soul;
the impulses of incontinent people move in contrary directions. But while
in the body we see that which moves astray, in the soul we do not. No doubt,
however, we must none the less suppose that in the soul too there is something
contrary to the rational principle, resisting and opposing it. In what
sense it is distinct from the other elements does not concern us. Now even
this seems to have a share in a rational principle, as we said; at any
rate in the continent man it obeys the rational principle and presumably
in the temperate and brave man it is still more obedient; for in him it
speaks, on all matters, with the same voice as the rational
principle.
Therefore the irrational element also appears to be two-fold. For
the vegetative element in no way shares in a rational principle, but the
appetitive and in general the desiring element in a sense shares in it,
in so far as it listens to and obeys it; this is the sense in which we
speak of 'taking account' of one's father or one's friends, not that in
which we speak of 'accounting for a mathematical property. That the irrational
element is in some sense persuaded by a rational principle is indicated
also by the giving of advice and by all reproof and exhortation. And if
this element also must be said to have a rational principle, that which
has a rational principle (as well as that which has not) will be twofold,
one subdivision having it in the strict sense and in itself, and the other
having a tendency to obey as one does one's father.
Virtue too is distinguished into kinds in accordance with this
difference; for we say that some of the virtues are intellectual and others
moral, philosophic wisdom and understanding and practical wisdom being
intellectual, liberality and temperance moral. For in speaking about a
man's character we do not say that he is wise or has understanding but
that he is good-tempered or temperate; yet we praise the wise man also
with respect to his state of mind; and of states of mind we call those
which merit praise virtues.
Nicomachean Ethics
By Aristotle
Book II
1
Virtue, then, being of two kinds, intellectual and moral, intellectual
virtue in the main owes both its birth and its growth to teaching (for
which reason it requires experience and time), while moral virtue comes
about as a result of habit, whence also its name (ethike) is one that is
formed by a slight variation from the word ethos (habit). From this it
is also plain that none of the moral virtues arises in us by nature; for
nothing that exists by nature can form a habit contrary to its nature.
For instance the stone which by nature moves downwards cannot be habituated
to move upwards, not even if one tries to train it by throwing it up ten
thousand times; nor can fire be habituated to move downwards, nor can anything
else that by nature behaves in one way be trained to behave in another.
Neither by nature, then, nor contrary to nature do the virtues arise in
us; rather we are adapted by nature to receive them, and are made perfect
by habit.
Again, of all the things that come to us by nature we first acquire
the potentiality and later exhibit the activity (this is plain in the case
of the senses; for it was not by often seeing or often hearing that we
got these senses, but on the contrary we had them before we used them,
and did not come to have them by using them); but the virtues we get by
first exercising them, as also happens in the case of the arts as well.
For the things we have to learn before we can do them, we learn by doing
them, e.g. men become builders by building and lyreplayers by playing the
lyre; so too we become just by doing just acts, temperate by doing temperate
acts, brave by doing brave acts.
This is confirmed by what happens in states; for legislators make
the citizens good by forming habits in them, and this is the wish of every
legislator, and those who do not effect it miss their mark, and it is in
this that a good constitution differs from a bad one.
Again, it is from the same causes and by the same means that every
virtue is both produced and destroyed, and similarly every art; for it
is from playing the lyre that both good and bad lyre-players are produced.
And the corresponding statement is true of builders and of all the rest;
men will be good or bad builders as a result of building well or badly.
For if this were not so, there would have been no need of a teacher, but
all men would have been born good or bad at their craft. This, then, is
the case with the virtues also; by doing the acts that we do in our transactions
with other men we become just or unjust, and by doing the acts that we
do in the presence of danger, and being habituated to feel fear or confidence,
we become brave or cowardly. The same is true of appetites and feelings
of anger; some men become temperate and good-tempered, others self-indulgent
and irascible, by behaving in one way or the other in the appropriate circumstances.
Thus, in one word, states of character arise out of like activities. This
is why the activities we exhibit must be of a certain kind; it is because
the states of character correspond to the differences between these. It
makes no small difference, then, whether we form habits of one kind or
of another from our very youth; it makes a very great difference, or rather
all the difference.
2
Since, then, the present inquiry does not aim at theoretical knowledge
like the others (for we are inquiring not in order to know what virtue
is, but in order to become good, since otherwise our inquiry would have
been of no use), we must examine the nature of actions, namely how we ought
to do them; for these determine also the nature of the states of character
that are produced, as we have said. Now, that we must act according to
the right rule is a common principle and must be assumed-it will be discussed
later, i.e. both what the right rule is, and how it is related to the other
virtues. But this must be agreed upon beforehand, that the whole account
of matters of conduct must be given in outline and not precisely, as we
said at the very beginning that the accounts we demand must be in accordance
with the subject-matter; matters concerned with conduct and questions of
what is good for us have no fixity, any more than matters of health. The
general account being of this nature, the account of particular cases is
yet more lacking in exactness; for they do not fall under any art or precept
but the agents themselves must in each case consider what is appropriate
to the occasion, as happens also in the art of medicine or of
navigation.
But though our present account is of this nature we must give what
help we can. First, then, let us consider this, that it is the nature of
such things to be destroyed by defect and excess, as we see in the case
of strength and of health (for to gain light on things imperceptible we
must use the evidence of sensible things); both excessive and defective
exercise destroys the strength, and similarly drink or food which is above
or below a certain amount destroys the health, while that which is proportionate
both produces and increases and preserves it. So too is it, then, in the
case of temperance and courage and the other virtues. For the man who flies
from and fears everything and does not stand his ground against anything
becomes a coward, and the man who fears nothing at all but goes to meet
every danger becomes rash; and similarly the man who indulges in every
pleasure and abstains from none becomes self-indulgent, while the man who
shuns every pleasure, as boors do, becomes in a way insensible; temperance
and courage, then, are destroyed by excess and defect, and preserved by
the mean.
But not only are the sources and causes of their origination and
growth the same as those of their destruction, but also the sphere of their
actualization will be the same; for this is also true of the things which
are more evident to sense, e.g. of strength; it is produced by taking much
food and undergoing much exertion, and it is the strong man that will be
most able to do these things. So too is it with the virtues; by abstaining
from pleasures we become temperate, and it is when we have become so that
we are most able to abstain from them; and similarly too in the case of
courage; for by being habituated to despise things that are terrible and
to stand our ground against them we become brave, and it is when we have
become so that we shall be most able to stand our ground against
them.
3
We must take as a sign of states of character the pleasure or pain
that ensues on acts; for the man who abstains from bodily pleasures and
delights in this very fact is temperate, while the man who is annoyed at
it is self-indulgent, and he who stands his ground against things that
are terrible and delights in this or at least is not pained is brave, while
the man who is pained is a coward. For moral excellence is concerned with
pleasures and pains; it is on account of the pleasure that we do bad things,
and on account of the pain that we abstain from noble ones. Hence we ought
to have been brought up in a particular way from our very youth, as Plato
says, so as both to delight in and to be pained by the things that we ought;
for this is the right education.
Again, if the virtues are concerned with actions and passions,
and every passion and every action is accompanied by pleasure and pain,
for this reason also virtue will be concerned with pleasures and pains.
This is indicated also by the fact that punishment is inflicted by these
means; for it is a kind of cure, and it is the nature of cures to be effected
by contraries.
Again, as we said but lately, every state of soul has a nature
relative to and concerned with the kind of things by which it tends to
be made worse or better; but it is by reason of pleasures and pains that
men become bad, by pursuing and avoiding these- either the pleasures and
pains they ought not or when they ought not or as they ought not, or by
going wrong in one of the other similar ways that may be distinguished.
Hence men even define the virtues as certain states of impassivity and
rest; not well, however, because they speak absolutely, and do not say
'as one ought' and 'as one ought not' and 'when one ought or ought not',
and the other things that may be added. We assume, then, that this kind
of excellence tends to do what is best with regard to pleasures and pains,
and vice does the contrary.
The following facts also may show us that virtue and vice are concerned
with these same things. There being three objects of choice and three of
avoidance, the noble, the advantageous, the pleasant, and their contraries,
the base, the injurious, the painful, about all of these the good man tends
to go right and the bad man to go wrong, and especially about pleasure;
for this is common to the animals, and also it accompanies all objects
of choice; for even the noble and the advantageous appear
pleasant.
Again, it has grown up with us all from our infancy; this is why
it is difficult to rub off this passion, engrained as it is in our life.
And we measure even our actions, some of us more and others less, by the
rule of pleasure and pain. For this reason, then, our whole inquiry must
be about these; for to feel delight and pain rightly or wrongly has no
small effect on our actions.
Again, it is harder to fight with pleasure than with anger, to
use Heraclitus' phrase', but both art and virtue are always concerned with
what is harder; for even the good is better when it is harder. Therefore
for this reason also the whole concern both of virtue and of political
science is with pleasures and pains; for the man who uses these well will
be good, he who uses them badly bad.
That virtue, then, is concerned with pleasures and pains, and that
by the acts from which it arises it is both increased and, if they are
done differently, destroyed, and that the acts from which it arose are
those in which it actualizes itself- let this be taken as
said.
4
The question might be asked,; what we mean by saying that we must
become just by doing just acts, and temperate by doing temperate acts;
for if men do just and temperate acts, they are already just and temperate,
exactly as, if they do what is in accordance with the laws of grammar and
of music, they are grammarians and musicians.
Or is this not true even of the arts? It is possible to do something
that is in accordance with the laws of grammar, either by chance or at
the suggestion of another. A man will be a grammarian, then, only when
he has both done something grammatical and done it grammatically; and this
means doing it in accordance with the grammatical knowledge in
himself.
Again, the case of the arts and that of the virtues are not similar;
for the products of the arts have their goodness in themselves, so that
it is enough that they should have a certain character, but if the acts
that are in accordance with the virtues have themselves a certain character
it does not follow that they are done justly or temperately. The agent
also must be in a certain condition when he does them; in the first place
he must have knowledge, secondly he must choose the acts, and choose them
for their own sakes, and thirdly his action must proceed from a firm and
unchangeable character. These are not reckoned in as conditions of the
possession of the arts, except the bare knowledge; but as a condition of
the possession of the virtues knowledge has little or no weight, while
the other conditions count not for a little but for everything, i.e. the
very conditions which result from often doing just and temperate
acts.
Actions, then, are called just and temperate when they are such
as the just or the temperate man would do; but it is not the man who does
these that is just and temperate, but the man who also does them as just
and temperate men do them. It is well said, then, that it is by doing just
acts that the just man is produced, and by doing temperate acts the temperate
man; without doing these no one would have even a prospect of becoming
good.
But most people do not do these, but take refuge in theory and
think they are being philosophers and will become good in this way, behaving
somewhat like patients who listen attentively to their doctors, but do
none of the things they are ordered to do. As the latter will not be made
well in body by such a course of treatment, the former will not be made
well in soul by such a course of philosophy.
5
Next we must consider what virtue is. Since things that are found
in the soul are of three kinds- passions, faculties, states of character,
virtue must be one of these. By passions I mean appetite, anger, fear,
confidence, envy, joy, friendly feeling, hatred, longing, emulation, pity,
and in general the feelings that are accompanied by pleasure or pain; by
faculties the things in virtue of which we are said to be capable of feeling
these, e.g. of becoming angry or being pained or feeling pity; by states
of character the things in virtue of which we stand well or badly with
reference to the passions, e.g. with reference to anger we stand badly
if we feel it violently or too weakly, and well if we feel it moderately;
and similarly with reference to the other passions.
Now neither the virtues nor the vices are passions, because we
are not called good or bad on the ground of our passions, but are so called
on the ground of our virtues and our vices, and because we are neither
praised nor blamed for our passions (for the man who feels fear or anger
is not praised, nor is the man who simply feels anger blamed, but the man
who feels it in a certain way), but for our virtues and our vices we are
praised or blamed.
Again, we feel anger and fear without choice, but the virtues are
modes of choice or involve choice. Further, in respect of the passions
we are said to be moved, but in respect of the virtues and the vices we
are said not to be moved but to be disposed in a particular
way.
For these reasons also they are not faculties; for we are neither
called good nor bad, nor praised nor blamed, for the simple capacity of
feeling the passions; again, we have the faculties by nature, but we are
not made good or bad by nature; we have spoken of this before. If, then,
the virtues are neither passions nor faculties, all that remains is that
they should be states of character.
Thus we have stated what virtue is in respect of its
genus.
6
We must, however, not only describe virtue as a state of character,
but also say what sort of state it is. We may remark, then, that every
virtue or excellence both brings into good condition the thing of which
it is the excellence and makes the work of that thing be done well; e.g.
the excellence of the eye makes both the eye and its work good; for it
is by the excellence of the eye that we see well. Similarly the excellence
of the horse makes a horse both good in itself and good at running and
at carrying its rider and at awaiting the attack of the enemy. Therefore,
if this is true in every case, the virtue of man also will be the state
of character which makes a man good and which makes him do his own work
well.
How this is to happen we have stated already, but it will be made
plain also by the following consideration of the specific nature of virtue.
In everything that is continuous and divisible it is possible to take more,
less, or an equal amount, and that either in terms of the thing itself
or relatively to us; and the equal is an intermediate between excess and
defect. By the intermediate in the object I mean that which is equidistant
from each of the extremes, which is one and the same for all men; by the
intermediate relatively to us that which is neither too much nor too little-
and this is not one, nor the same for all. For instance, if ten is many
and two is few, six is the intermediate, taken in terms of the object;
for it exceeds and is exceeded by an equal amount; this is intermediate
according to arithmetical proportion. But the intermediate relatively to
us is not to be taken so; if ten pounds are too much for a particular person
to eat and two too little, it does not follow that the trainer will order
six pounds; for this also is perhaps too much for the person who is to
take it, or too little- too little for Milo, too much for the beginner
in athletic exercises. The same is true of running and wrestling. Thus
a master of any art avoids excess and defect, but seeks the intermediate
and chooses this- the intermediate not in the object but relatively to
us.
If it is thus, then, that every art does its work well- by looking
to the intermediate and judgling its works by this standard (so that we
often say of good works of art that it is not possible either to take away
or to add anything, implying that excess and defect destroy the goodness
of works of art, while the mean preserves it; and good artists, as we say,
look to this in their work), and if, further, virtue is more exact and
better than any art, as nature also is, then virtue must have the quality
of aiming at the intermediate. I mean moral virtue; for it is this that
is concerned with passions and actions, and in these there is excess, defect,
and the intermediate. For instance, both fear and confidence and appetite
and anger and pity and in general pleasure and pain may be felt both too
much and too little, and in both cases not well; but to feel them at the
right times, with reference to the right objects, towards the right people,
with the right motive, and in the right way, is what is both intermediate
and best, and this is characteristic of virtue. Similarly with regard to
actions also there is excess, defect, and the intermediate. Now virtue
is concerned with passions and actions, in which excess is a form of failure,
and so is defect, while the intermediate is praised and is a form of success;
and being praised and being successful are both characteristics of virtue.
Therefore virtue is a kind of mean, since, as we have seen, it aims at
what is intermediate.
Again, it is possible to fail in many ways (for evil belongs to
the class of the unlimited, as the Pythagoreans conjectured, and good to
that of the limited), while to succeed is possible only in one way (for
which reason also one is easy and the other difficult- to miss the mark
easy, to hit it difficult); for these reasons also, then, excess and defect
are characteristic of vice, and the mean of virtue;
For men are good in but one way, but bad in
many.
Virtue, then, is a state of character concerned with choice, lying
in a mean, i.e. the mean relative to us, this being determined by a rational
principle, and by that principle by which the man of practical wisdom would
determine it. Now it is a mean between two vices, that which depends on
excess and that which depends on defect; and again it is a mean because
the vices respectively fall short of or exceed what is right in both passions
and actions, while virtue both finds and chooses that which is intermediate.
Hence in respect of its substance and the definition which states its essence
virtue is a mean, with regard to what is best and right an
extreme.
But not every action nor every passion admits of a mean; for some
have names that already imply badness, e.g. spite, shamelessness, envy,
and in the case of actions adultery, theft, murder; for all of these and
suchlike things imply by their names that they are themselves bad, and
not the excesses or deficiencies of them. It is not possible, then, ever
to be right with regard to them; one must always be wrong. Nor does goodness
or badness with regard to such things depend on committing adultery with
the right woman, at the right time, and in the right way, but simply to
do any of them is to go wrong. It would be equally absurd, then, to expect
that in unjust, cowardly, and voluptuous action there should be a mean,
an excess, and a deficiency; for at that rate there would be a mean of
excess and of deficiency, an excess of excess, and a deficiency of deficiency.
But as there is no excess and deficiency of temperance and courage because
what is intermediate is in a sense an extreme, so too of the actions we
have mentioned there is no mean nor any excess and deficiency, but however
they are done they are wrong; for in general there is neither a mean of
excess and deficiency, nor excess and deficiency of a
mean.
7
We must, however, not only make this general statement, but also
apply it to the individual facts. For among statements about conduct those
which are general apply more widely, but those which are particular are
more genuine, since conduct has to do with individual cases, and our statements
must harmonize with the facts in these cases. We may take these cases from
our table. With regard to feelings of fear and confidence courage is the
mean; of the people who exceed, he who exceeds in fearlessness has no name
(many of the states have no name), while the man who exceeds in confidence
is rash, and he who exceeds in fear and falls short in confidence is a
coward. With regard to pleasures and pains- not all of them, and not so
much with regard to the pains- the mean is temperance, the excess self-indulgence.
Persons deficient with regard to the pleasures are not often found; hence
such persons also have received no name. But let us call them
'insensible'.
With regard to giving and taking of money the mean is liberality,
the excess and the defect prodigality and meanness. In these actions people
exceed and fall short in contrary ways; the prodigal exceeds in spending
and falls short in taking, while the mean man exceeds in taking and falls
short in spending. (At present we are giving a mere outline or summary,
and are satisfied with this; later these states will be more exactly determined.)
With regard to money there are also other dispositions- a mean, magnificence
(for the magnificent man differs from the liberal man; the former deals
with large sums, the latter with small ones), an excess, tastelessness
and vulgarity, and a deficiency, niggardliness; these differ from the states
opposed to liberality, and the mode of their difference will be stated
later. With regard to honour and dishonour the mean is proper pride, the
excess is known as a sort of 'empty vanity', and the deficiency is undue
humility; and as we said liberality was related to magnificence, differing
from it by dealing with small sums, so there is a state similarly related
to proper pride, being concerned with small honours while that is concerned
with great. For it is possible to desire honour as one ought, and more
than one ought, and less, and the man who exceeds in his desires is called
ambitious, the man who falls short unambitious, while the intermediate
person has no name. The dispositions also are nameless, except that that
of the ambitious man is called ambition. Hence the people who are at the
extremes lay claim to the middle place; and we ourselves sometimes call
the intermediate person ambitious and sometimes unambitious, and sometimes
praise the ambitious man and sometimes the unambitious. The reason of our
doing this will be stated in what follows; but now let us speak of the
remaining states according to the method which has been
indicated.
With regard to anger also there is an excess, a deficiency, and
a mean. Although they can scarcely be said to have names, yet since we
call the intermediate person good-tempered let us call the mean good temper;
of the persons at the extremes let the one who exceeds be called irascible,
and his vice irascibility, and the man who falls short an inirascible sort
of person, and the deficiency inirascibility.
There are also three other means, which have a certain likeness
to one another, but differ from one another: for they are all concerned
with intercourse in words and actions, but differ in that one is concerned
with truth in this sphere, the other two with pleasantness; and of this
one kind is exhibited in giving amusement, the other in all the circumstances
of life. We must therefore speak of these too, that we may the better see
that in all things the mean is praise-worthy, and the extremes neither
praiseworthy nor right, but worthy of blame. Now most of these states also
have no names, but we must try, as in the other cases, to invent names
ourselves so that we may be clear and easy to follow. With regard to truth,
then, the intermediate is a truthful sort of person and the mean may be
called truthfulness, while the pretence which exaggerates is boastfulness
and the person characterized by it a boaster, and that which understates
is mock modesty and the person characterized by it mock-modest. With regard
to pleasantness in the giving of amusement the intermediate person is ready-witted
and the disposition ready wit, the excess is buffoonery and the person
characterized by it a buffoon, while the man who falls short is a sort
of boor and his state is boorishness. With regard to the remaining kind
of pleasantness, that which is exhibited in life in general, the man who
is pleasant in the right way is friendly and the mean is friendliness,
while the man who exceeds is an obsequious person if he has no end in view,
a flatterer if he is aiming at his own advantage, and the man who falls
short and is unpleasant in all circumstances is a quarrelsome and surly
sort of person.
There are also means in the passions and concerned with the passions;
since shame is not a virtue, and yet praise is extended to the modest man.
For even in these matters one man is said to be intermediate, and another
to exceed, as for instance the bashful man who is ashamed of everything;
while he who falls short or is not ashamed of anything at all is shameless,
and the intermediate person is modest. Righteous indignation is a mean
between envy and spite, and these states are concerned with the pain and
pleasure that are felt at the fortunes of our neighbours; the man who is
characterized by righteous indignation is pained at undeserved good fortune,
the envious man, going beyond him, is pained at all good fortune, and the
spiteful man falls so far short of being pained that he even rejoices.
But these states there will be an opportunity of describing elsewhere;
with regard to justice, since it has not one simple meaning, we shall,
after describing the other states, distinguish its two kinds and say how
each of them is a mean; and similarly we shall treat also of the rational
virtues.
8
There are three kinds of disposition, then, two of them vices,
involving excess and deficiency respectively, and one a virtue, viz. the
mean, and all are in a sense opposed to all; for the extreme states are
contrary both to the intermediate state and to each other, and the intermediate
to the extremes; as the equal is greater relatively to the less, less relatively
to the greater, so the middle states are excessive relatively to the deficiencies,
deficient relatively to the excesses, both in passions and in actions.
For the brave man appears rash relatively to the coward, and cowardly relatively
to the rash man; and similarly the temperate man appears self-indulgent
relatively to the insensible man, insensible relatively to the self-indulgent,
and the liberal man prodigal relatively to the mean man, mean relatively
to the prodigal. Hence also the people at the extremes push the intermediate
man each over to the other, and the brave man is called rash by the coward,
cowardly by the rash man, and correspondingly in the other
cases.
These states being thus opposed to one another, the greatest contrariety
is that of the extremes to each other, rather than to the intermediate;
for these are further from each other than from the intermediate, as the
great is further from the small and the small from the great than both
are from the equal. Again, to the intermediate some extremes show a certain
likeness, as that of rashness to courage and that of prodigality to liberality;
but the extremes show the greatest unlikeness to each other; now contraries
are defined as the things that are furthest from each other, so that things
that are further apart are more contrary.
To the mean in some cases the deficiency, in some the excess is
more opposed; e.g. it is not rashness, which is an excess, but cowardice,
which is a deficiency, that is more opposed to courage, and not insensibility,
which is a deficiency, but self-indulgence, which is an excess, that is
more opposed to temperance. This happens from two reasons, one being drawn
from the thing itself; for because one extreme is nearer and liker to the
intermediate, we oppose not this but rather its contrary to the intermediate.
E.g. since rashness is thought liker and nearer to courage, and cowardice
more unlike, we oppose rather the latter to courage; for things that are
further from the intermediate are thought more contrary to it. This, then,
is one cause, drawn from the thing itself; another is drawn from ourselves;
for the things to which we ourselves more naturally tend seem more contrary
to the intermediate. For instance, we ourselves tend more naturally to
pleasures, and hence are more easily carried away towards self-indulgence
than towards propriety. We describe as contrary to the mean, then, rather
the directions in which we more often go to great lengths; and therefore
self-indulgence, which is an excess, is the more contrary to
temperance.
9
That moral virtue is a mean, then, and in what sense it is so,
and that it is a mean between two vices, the one involving excess, the
other deficiency, and that it is such because its character is to aim at
what is intermediate in passions and in actions, has been sufficiently
stated. Hence also it is no easy task to be good. For in everything it
is no easy task to find the middle, e.g. to find the middle of a circle
is not for every one but for him who knows; so, too, any one can get angry-
that is easy- or give or spend money; but to do this to the right person,
to the right extent, at the right time, with the right motive, and in the
right way, that is not for every one, nor is it easy; wherefore goodness
is both rare and laudable and noble.
Hence he who aims at the intermediate must first depart from what
is the more contrary to it, as Calypso advises-
Hold the ship out beyond that surf and spray.
For of the extremes one is more erroneous, one less so; therefore,
since to hit the mean is hard in the extreme, we must as a second best,
as people say, take the least of the evils; and this will be done best
in the way we describe. But we must consider the things towards which we
ourselves also are easily carried away; for some of us tend to one thing,
some to another; and this will be recognizable from the pleasure and the
pain we feel. We must drag ourselves away to the contrary extreme; for
we shall get into the intermediate state by drawing well away from error,
as people do in straightening sticks that are bent.
Now in everything the pleasant or pleasure is most to be guarded
against; for we do not judge it impartially. We ought, then, to feel towards
pleasure as the elders of the people felt towards Helen, and in all circumstances
repeat their saying; for if we dismiss pleasure thus we are less likely
to go astray. It is by doing this, then, (to sum the matter up) that we
shall best be able to hit the mean.
But this is no doubt difficult, and especially in individual cases;
for or is not easy to determine both how and with whom and on what provocation
and how long one should be angry; for we too sometimes praise those who
fall short and call them good-tempered, but sometimes we praise those who
get angry and call them manly. The man, however, who deviates little from
goodness is not blamed, whether he do so in the direction of the more or
of the less, but only the man who deviates more widely; for he does not
fail to be noticed. But up to what point and to what extent a man must
deviate before he becomes blameworthy it is not easy to determine by reasoning,
any more than anything else that is perceived by the senses; such things
depend on particular facts, and the decision rests with perception. So
much, then, is plain, that the intermediate state is in all things to be
praised, but that we must incline sometimes towards the excess, sometimes
towards the deficiency; for so shall we most easily hit the mean and what
is right.
Nicomachean Ethics
By Aristotle
Book III
1
Since virtue is concerned with passions and actions, and on voluntary
passions and actions praise and blame are bestowed, on those that are involuntary
pardon, and sometimes also pity, to distinguish the voluntary and the involuntary
is presumably necessary for those who are studying the nature of virtue,
and useful also for legislators with a view to the assigning both of honours
and of punishments. Those things, then, are thought-involuntary, which
take place under compulsion or owing to ignorance; and that is compulsory
of which the moving principle is outside, being a principle in which nothing
is contributed by the person who is acting or is feeling the passion, e.g.
if he were to be carried somewhere by a wind, or by men who had him in
their power.
But with regard to the things that are done from fear of greater
evils or for some noble object (e.g. if a tyrant were to order one to do
something base, having one's parents and children in his power, and if
one did the action they were to be saved, but otherwise would be put to
death), it may be debated whether such actions are involuntary or voluntary.
Something of the sort happens also with regard to the throwing of goods
overboard in a storm; for in the abstract no one throws goods away voluntarily,
but on condition of its securing the safety of himself and his crew any
sensible man does so. Such actions, then, are mixed, but are more like
voluntary actions; for they are worthy of choice at the time when they
are done, and the end of an action is relative to the occasion. Both the
terms, then, 'voluntary' and 'involuntary', must be used with reference
to the moment of action. Now the man acts voluntarily; for the principle
that moves the instrumental parts of the body in such actions is in him,
and the things of which the moving principle is in a man himself are in
his power to do or not to do. Such actions, therefore, are voluntary, but
in the abstract perhaps involuntary; for no one would choose any such act
in itself.
For such actions men are sometimes even praised, when they endure
something base or painful in return for great and noble objects gained;
in the opposite case they are blamed, since to endure the greatest indignities
for no noble end or for a trifling end is the mark of an inferior person.
On some actions praise indeed is not bestowed, but pardon is, when one
does what he ought not under pressure which overstrains human nature and
which no one could withstand. But some acts, perhaps, we cannot be forced
to do, but ought rather to face death after the most fearful sufferings;
for the things that 'forced' Euripides Alcmaeon to slay his mother seem
absurd. It is difficult sometimes to determine what should be chosen at
what cost, and what should be endured in return for what gain, and yet
more difficult to abide by our decisions; for as a rule what is expected
is painful, and what we are forced to do is base, whence praise and blame
are bestowed on those who have been compelled or have
not.
What sort of acts, then, should be called compulsory? We answer
that without qualification actions are so when the cause is in the external
circumstances and the agent contributes nothing. But the things that in
themselves are involuntary, but now and in return for these gains are worthy
of choice, and whose moving principle is in the agent, are in themselves
involuntary, but now and in return for these gains voluntary. They are
more like voluntary acts; for actions are in the class of particulars,
and the particular acts here are voluntary. What sort of things are to
be chosen, and in return for what, it is not easy to state; for there are
many differences in the particular cases.
But if some one were to say that pleasant and noble objects have
a compelling power, forcing us from without, all acts would be for him
compulsory; for it is for these objects that all men do everything they
do. And those who act under compulsion and unwillingly act with pain, but
those who do acts for their pleasantness and nobility do them with pleasure;
it is absurd to make external circumstances responsible, and not oneself,
as being easily caught by such attractions, and to make oneself responsible
for noble acts but the pleasant objects responsible for base acts. The
compulsory, then, seems to be that whose moving principle is outside, the
person compelled contributing nothing.
Everything that is done by reason of ignorance is not voluntary;
it is only what produces pain and repentance that is involuntary. For the
man who has done something owing to ignorance, and feels not the least
vexation at his action, has not acted voluntarily, since he did not know
what he was doing, nor yet involuntarily, since he is not pained. Of people,
then, who act by reason of ignorance he who repents is thought an involuntary
agent, and the man who does not repent may, since he is different, be called
a not voluntary agent; for, since he differs from the other, it is better
that he should have a name of his own.
Acting by reason of ignorance seems also to be different from acting
in ignorance; for the man who is drunk or in a rage is thought to act as
a result not of ignorance but of one of the causes mentioned, yet not knowingly
but in ignorance.
Now every wicked man is ignorant of what he ought to do and what
he ought to abstain from, and it is by reason of error of this kind that
men become unjust and in general bad; but the term 'involuntary' tends
to be used not if a man is ignorant of what is to his advantage- for it
is not mistaken purpose that causes involuntary action (it leads rather
to wickedness), nor ignorance of the universal (for that men are blamed),
but ignorance of particulars, i.e. of the circumstances of the action and
the objects with which it is concerned. For it is on these that both pity
and pardon depend, since the person who is ignorant of any of these acts
involuntarily.
Perhaps it is just as well, therefore, to determine their nature
and number. A man may be ignorant, then, of who he is, what he is doing,
what or whom he is acting on, and sometimes also what (e.g. what instrument)
he is doing it with, and to what end (e.g. he may think his act will conduce
to some one's safety), and how he is doing it (e.g. whether gently or violently).
Now of all of these no one could be ignorant unless he were mad, and evidently
also he could not be ignorant of the agent; for how could he not know himself?
But of what he is doing a man might be ignorant, as for instance people
say 'it slipped out of their mouths as they were speaking', or 'they did
not know it was a secret', as Aeschylus said of the mysteries, or a man
might say he 'let it go off when he merely wanted to show its working',
as the man did with the catapult. Again, one might think one's son was
an enemy, as Merope did, or that a pointed spear had a button on it, or
that a stone was pumicestone; or one might give a man a draught to save
him, and really kill him; or one might want to touch a man, as people do
in sparring, and really wound him. The ignorance may relate, then, to any
of these things, i.e. of the circumstances of the action, and the man who
was ignorant of any of these is thought to have acted involuntarily, and
especially if he was ignorant on the most important points; and these are
thought to be the circumstances of the action and its end. Further, the
doing of an act that is called involuntary in virtue of ignorance of this
sort must be painful and involve repentance.
Since that which is done under compulsion or by reason of ignorance
is involuntary, the voluntary would seem to be that of which the moving
principle is in the agent himself, he being aware of the particular circumstances
of the action. Presumably acts done by reason of anger or appetite are
not rightly called involuntary. For in the first place, on that showing
none of the other animals will act voluntarily, nor will children; and
secondly, is it meant that we do not do voluntarily any of the acts that
are due to appetite or anger, or that we do the noble acts voluntarily
and the base acts involuntarily? Is not this absurd, when one and the same
thing is the cause? But it would surely be odd to describe as involuntary
the things one ought to desire; and we ought both to be angry at certain
things and to have an appetite for certain things, e.g. for health and
for learning. Also what is involuntary is thought to be painful, but what
is in accordance with appetite is thought to be pleasant. Again, what is
the difference in respect of involuntariness between errors committed upon
calculation and those committed in anger? Both are to be avoided, but the
irrational passions are thought not less human than reason is, and therefore
also the actions which proceed from anger or appetite are the man's actions.
It would be odd, then, to treat them as involuntary.
2
Both the voluntary and the involuntary having been delimited, we
must next discuss choice; for it is thought to be most closely bound up
with virtue and to discriminate characters better than actions
do.
Choice, then, seems to be voluntary, but not the same thing as
the voluntary; the latter extends more widely. For both children and the
lower animals share in voluntary action, but not in choice, and acts done
on the spur of the moment we describe as voluntary, but not as
chosen.
Those who say it is appetite or anger or wish or a kind of opinion
do not seem to be right. For choice is not common to irrational creatures
as well, but appetite and anger are. Again, the incontinent man acts with
appetite, but not with choice; while the continent man on the contrary
acts with choice, but not with appetite. Again, appetite is contrary to
choice, but not appetite to appetite. Again, appetite relates to the pleasant
and the painful, choice neither to the painful nor to the
pleasant.
Still less is it anger; for acts due to anger are thought to be
less than any others objects of choice.
But neither is it wish, though it seems near to it; for choice
cannot relate to impossibles, and if any one said he chose them he would
be thought silly; but there may be a wish even for impossibles, e.g. for
immortality. And wish may relate to things that could in no way be brought
about by one's own efforts, e.g. that a particular actor or athlete should
win in a competition; but no one chooses such things, but only the things
that he thinks could be brought about by his own efforts. Again, wish relates
rather to the end, choice to the means; for instance, we wish to be healthy,
but we choose the acts which will make us healthy, and we wish to be happy
and say we do, but we cannot well say we choose to be so; for, in general,
choice seems to relate to the things that are in our own
power.
For this reason, too, it cannot be opinion; for opinion is thought
to relate to all kinds of things, no less to eternal things and impossible
things than to things in our own power; and it is distinguished by its
falsity or truth, not by its badness or goodness, while choice is distinguished
rather by these.
Now with opinion in general perhaps no one even says it is identical.
But it is not identical even with any kind of opinion; for by choosing
what is good or bad we are men of a certain character, which we are not
by holding certain opinions. And we choose to get or avoid something good
or bad, but we have opinions about what a thing is or whom it is good for
or how it is good for him; we can hardly be said to opine to get or avoid
anything. And choice is praised for being related to the right object rather
than for being rightly related to it, opinion for being truly related to
its object. And we choose what we best know to be good, but we opine what
we do not quite know; and it is not the same people that are thought to
make the best choices and to have the best opinions, but some are thought
to have fairly good opinions, but by reason of vice to choose what they
should not. If opinion precedes choice or accompanies it, that makes no
difference; for it is not this that we are considering, but whether it
is identical with some kind of opinion.
What, then, or what kind of thing is it, since it is none of the
things we have mentioned? It seems to be voluntary, but not all that is
voluntary to be an object of choice. Is it, then, what has been decided
on by previous deliberation? At any rate choice involves a rational principle
and thought. Even the name seems to suggest that it is what is chosen before
other things.
3
Do we deliberate about everything, and is everything a possible
subject of deliberation, or is deliberation impossible about some things?
We ought presumably to call not what a fool or a madman would deliberate
about, but what a sensible man would deliberate about, a subject of deliberation.
Now about eternal things no one deliberates, e.g. about the material universe
or the incommensurability of the diagonal and the side of a square. But
no more do we deliberate about the things that involve movement but always
happen in the same way, whether of necessity or by nature or from any other
cause, e.g. the solstices and the risings of the stars; nor about things
that happen now in one way, now in another, e.g. droughts and rains; nor
about chance events, like the finding of treasure. But we do not deliberate
even about all human affairs; for instance, no Spartan deliberates about
the best constitution for the Scythians. For none of these things can be
brought about by our own efforts.
We deliberate about things that are in our power and can be done;
and these are in fact what is left. For nature, necessity, and chance are
thought to be causes, and also reason and everything that depends on man.
Now every class of men deliberates about the things that can be done by
their own efforts. And in the case of exact and self-contained sciences
there is no deliberation, e.g. about the letters of the alphabet (for we
have no doubt how they should be written); but the things that are brought
about by our own efforts, but not always in the same way, are the things
about which we deliberate, e.g. questions of medical treatment or of money-making.
And we do so more in the case of the art of navigation than in that of
gymnastics, inasmuch as it has been less exactly worked out, and again
about other things in the same ratio, and more also in the case of the
arts than in that of the sciences; for we have more doubt about the former.
Deliberation is concerned with things that happen in a certain way for
the most part, but in which the event is obscure, and with things in which
it is indeterminate. We call in others to aid us in deliberation on important
questions, distrusting ourselves as not being equal to
deciding.
We deliberate not about ends but about means. For a doctor does
not deliberate whether he shall heal, nor an orator whether he shall persuade,
nor a statesman whether he shall produce law and order, nor does any one
else deliberate about his end. They assume the end and consider how and
by what means it is to be attained; and if it seems to be produced by several
means they consider by which it is most easily and best produced, while
if it is achieved by one only they consider how it will be achieved by
this and by what means this will be achieved, till they come to the first
cause, which in the order of discovery is last. For the person who deliberates
seems to investigate and analyse in the way described as though he were
analysing a geometrical construction (not all investigation appears to
be deliberation- for instance mathematical investigations- but all deliberation
is investigation), and what is last in the order of analysis seems to be
first in the order of becoming. And if we come on an impossibility, we
give up the search, e.g. if we need money and this cannot be got; but if
a thing appears possible we try to do it. By 'possible' things I mean things
that might be brought about by our own efforts; and these in a sense include
things that can be brought about by the efforts of our friends, since the
moving principle is in ourselves. The subject of investigation is sometimes
the instruments, sometimes the use of them; and similarly in the other
cases- sometimes the means, sometimes the mode of using it or the means
of bringing it about. It seems, then, as has been said, that man is a moving
principle of actions; now deliberation is about the things to be done by
the agent himself, and actions are for the sake of things other than themselves.
For the end cannot be a subject of deliberation, but only the means; nor
indeed can the particular facts be a subject of it, as whether this is
bread or has been baked as it should; for these are matters of perception.
If we are to be always deliberating, we shall have to go on to
infinity.
The same thing is deliberated upon and is chosen, except that the
object of choice is already determinate, since it is that which has been
decided upon as a result of deliberation that is the object of choice.
For every one ceases to inquire how he is to act when he has brought the
moving principle back to himself and to the ruling part of himself; for
this is what chooses. This is plain also from the ancient constitutions,
which Homer represented; for the kings announced their choices to the people.
The object of choice being one of the things in our own power which is
desired after deliberation, choice will be deliberate desire of things
in our own power; for when we have decided as a result of deliberation,
we desire in accordance with our deliberation.
We may take it, then, that we have described choice in outline,
and stated the nature of its objects and the fact that it is concerned
with means.
4
That wish is for the end has already been stated; some think it
is for the good, others for the apparent good. Now those who say that the
good is the object of wish must admit in consequence that that which the
man who does not choose aright wishes for is not an object of wish (for
if it is to be so, it must also be good; but it was, if it so happened,
bad); while those who say the apparent good is the object of wish must
admit that there is no natural object of wish, but only what seems good
to each man. Now different things appear good to different people, and,
if it so happens, even contrary things.
If these consequences are unpleasing, are we to say that absolutely
and in truth the good is the object of wish, but for each person the apparent
good; that that which is in truth an object of wish is an object of wish
to the good man, while any chance thing may be so the bad man, as in the
case of bodies also the things that are in truth wholesome are wholesome
for bodies which are in good condition, while for those that are diseased
other things are wholesome- or bitter or sweet or hot or heavy, and so
on; since the good man judges each class of things rightly, and in each
the truth appears to him? For each state of character has its own ideas
of the noble and the pleasant, and perhaps the good man differs from others
most by seeing the truth in each class of things, being as it were the
norm and measure of them. In most things the error seems to be due to pleasure;
for it appears a good when it is not. We therefore choose the pleasant
as a good, and avoid pain as an evil.
5
The end, then, being what we wish for, the means what we deliberate
about and choose, actions concerning means must be according to choice
and voluntary. Now the exercise of the virtues is concerned with means.
Therefore virtue also is in our own power, and so too vice. For where it
is in our power to act it is also in our power not to act, and vice versa;
so that, if to act, where this is noble, is in our power, not to act, which
will be base, will also be in our power, and if not to act, where this
is noble, is in our power, to act, which will be base, will also be in
our power. Now if it is in our power to do noble or base acts, and likewise
in our power not to do them, and this was what being good or bad meant,
then it is in our power to be virtuous or vicious.
The saying that 'no one is voluntarily wicked nor involuntarily
happy' seems to be partly false and partly true; for no one is involuntarily
happy, but wickedness is voluntary. Or else we shall have to dispute what
has just been said, at any rate, and deny that man is a moving principle
or begetter of his actions as of children. But if these facts are evident
and we cannot refer actions to moving principles other than those in ourselves,
the acts whose moving principles are in us must themselves also be in our
power and voluntary.
Witness seems to be borne to this both by individuals in their
private capacity and by legislators themselves; for these punish and take
vengeance on those who do wicked acts (unless they have acted under compulsion
or as a result of ignorance for which they are not themselves responsible),
while they honour those who do noble acts, as though they meant to encourage
the latter and deter the former. But no one is encouraged to do the things
that are neither in our power nor voluntary; it is assumed that there is
no gain in being persuaded not to be hot or in pain or hungry or the like,
since we shall experience these feelings none the less. Indeed, we punish
a man for his very ignorance, if he is thought responsible for the ignorance,
as when penalties are doubled in the case of drunkenness; for the moving
principle is in the man himself, since he had the power of not getting
drunk and his getting drunk was the cause of his ignorance. And we punish
those who are ignorant of anything in the laws that they ought to know
and that is not difficult, and so too in the case of anything else that
they are thought to be ignorant of through carelessness; we assume that
it is in their power not to be ignorant, since they have the power of taking
care.
But perhaps a man is the kind of man not to take care. Still they
are themselves by their slack lives responsible for becoming men of that
kind, and men make themselves responsible for being unjust or self-indulgent,
in the one case by cheating and in the other by spending their time in
drinking bouts and the like; for it is activities exercised on particular
objects that make the corresponding character. This is plain from the case
of people training for any contest or action; they practise the activity
the whole time. Now not to know that it is from the exercise of activities
on particular objects that states of character are produced is the mark
of a thoroughly senseless person. Again, it is irrational to suppose that
a man who acts unjustly does not wish to be unjust or a man who acts self-indulgently
to be self-indulgent. But if without being ignorant a man does the things
which will make him unjust, he will be unjust voluntarily. Yet it does
not follow that if he wishes he will cease to be unjust and will be just.
For neither does the man who is ill become well on those terms. We may
suppose a case in which he is ill voluntarily, through living incontinently
and disobeying his doctors. In that case it was then open to him not to
be ill, but not now, when he has thrown away his chance, just as when you
have let a stone go it is too late to recover it; but yet it was in your
power to throw it, since the moving principle was in you. So, too, to the
unjust and to the self-indulgent man it was open at the beginning not to
become men of this kind, and so they are unjust and selfindulgent voluntarily;
but now that they have become so it is not possible for them not to be
so.
But not only are the vices of the soul voluntary, but those of
the body also for some men, whom we accordingly blame; while no one blames
those who are ugly by nature, we blame those who are so owing to want of
exercise and care. So it is, too, with respect to weakness and infirmity;
no one would reproach a man blind from birth or by disease or from a blow,
but rather pity him, while every one would blame a man who was blind from
drunkenness or some other form of self-indulgence. Of vices of the body,
then, those in our own power are blamed, those not in our power are not.
And if this be so, in the other cases also the vices that are blamed must
be in our own power.
Now some one may say that all men desire the apparent good, but
have no control over the appearance, but the end appears to each man in
a form answering to his character. We reply that if each man is somehow
responsible for his state of mind, he will also be himself somehow responsible
for the appearance; but if not, no one is responsible for his own evildoing,
but every one does evil acts through ignorance of the end, thinking that
by these he will get what is best, and the aiming at the end is not self-chosen
but one must be born with an eye, as it were, by which to judge rightly
and choose what is truly good, and he is well endowed by nature who is
well endowed with this. For it is what is greatest and most noble, and
what we cannot get or learn from another, but must have just such as it
was when given us at birth, and to be well and nobly endowed with this
will be perfect and true excellence of natural endowment. If this is true,
then, how will virtue be more voluntary than vice? To both men alike, the
good and the bad, the end appears and is fixed by nature or however it
may be, and it is by referring everything else to this that men do whatever
they do.
Whether, then, it is not by nature that the end appears to each
man such as it does appear, but something also depends on him, or the end
is natural but because the good man adopts the means voluntarily virtue
is voluntary, vice also will be none the less voluntary; for in the case
of the bad man there is equally present that which depends on himself in
his actions even if not in his end. If, then, as is asserted, the virtues
are voluntary (for we are ourselves somehow partly responsible for our
states of character, and it is by being persons of a certain kind that
we assume the end to be so and so), the vices also will be voluntary; for
the same is true of them.
With regard to the virtues in general we have stated their genus
in outline, viz. that they are means and that they are states of character,
and that they tend, and by their own nature, to the doing of the acts by
which they are produced, and that they are in our power and voluntary,
and act as the right rule prescribes. But actions and states of character
are not voluntary in the same way; for we are masters of our actions from
the beginning right to the end, if we know the particular facts, but though
we control the beginning of our states of character the gradual progress
is not obvious any more than it is in illnesses; because it was in our
power, however, to act in this way or not in this way, therefore the states
are voluntary.
Let us take up the several virtues, however, and say which they
are and what sort of things they are concerned with and how they are concerned
with them; at the same time it will become plain how many they are. And
first let us speak of courage.
6
That it is a mean with regard to feelings of fear and confidence
has already been made evident; and plainly the things we fear are terrible
things, and these are, to speak without qualification, evils; for which
reason people even define fear as expectation of evil. Now we fear all
evils, e.g. disgrace, poverty, disease, friendlessness, death, but the
brave man is not thought to be concerned with all; for to fear some things
is even right and noble, and it is base not to fear them- e.g. disgrace;
he who fears this is good and modest, and he who does not is shameless.
He is, however, by some people called brave, by a transference of the word
to a new meaning; for he has in him something which is like the brave man,
since the brave man also is a fearless person. Poverty and disease we perhaps
ought not to fear, nor in general the things that do not proceed from vice
and are not due to a man himself. But not even the man who is fearless
of these is brave. Yet we apply the word to him also in virtue of a similarity;
for some who in the dangers of war are cowards are liberal and are confident
in face of the loss of money. Nor is a man a coward if he fears insult
to his wife and children or envy or anything of the kind; nor brave if
he is confident when he is about to be flogged. With what sort of terrible
things, then, is the brave man concerned? Surely with the greatest; for
no one is more likely than he to stand his ground against what is awe-inspiring.
Now death is the most terrible of all things; for it is the end, and nothing
is thought to be any longer either good or bad for the dead. But the brave
man would not seem to be concerned even with death in all circumstances,
e.g. at sea or in disease. In what circumstances, then? Surely in the noblest.
Now such deaths are those in battle; for these take place in the greatest
and noblest danger. And these are correspondingly honoured in city-states
and at the courts of monarchs. Properly, then, he will be called brave
who is fearless in face of a noble death, and of all emergencies that involve
death; and the emergencies of war are in the highest degree of this kind.
Yet at sea also, and in disease, the brave man is fearless, but not in
the same way as the seaman; for he has given up hope of safety, and is
disliking the thought of death in this shape, while they are hopeful because
of their experience. At the same time, we show courage in situations where
there is the opportunity of showing prowess or where death is noble; but
in these forms of death neither of these conditions is
fulfilled.
7
What is terrible is not the same for all men; but we say there
are things terrible even beyond human strength. These, then, are terrible
to every one- at least to every sensible man; but the terrible things that
are not beyond human strength differ in magnitude and degree, and so too
do the things that inspire confidence. Now the brave man is as dauntless
as man may be. Therefore, while he will fear even the things that are not
beyond human strength, he will face them as he ought and as the rule directs,
for honour's sake; for this is the end of virtue. But it is possible to
fear these more, or less, and again to fear things that are not terrible
as if they were. Of the faults that are committed one consists in fearing
what one should not, another in fearing as we should not, another in fearing
when we should not, and so on; and so too with respect to the things that
inspire confidence. The man, then, who faces and who fears the right things
and from the right motive, in the right way and from the right time, and
who feels confidence under the corresponding conditions, is brave; for
the brave man feels and acts according to the merits of the case and in
whatever way the rule directs. Now the end of every activity is conformity
to the corresponding state of character. This is true, therefore, of the
brave man as well as of others. But courage is noble. Therefore the end
also is noble; for each thing is defined by its end. Therefore it is for
a noble end that the brave man endures and acts as courage
directs.
Of those who go to excess he who exceeds in fearlessness has no
name (we have said previously that many states of character have no names),
but he would be a sort of madman or insensible person if he feared nothing,
neither earthquakes nor the waves, as they say the Celts do not; while
the man who exceeds in confidence about what really is terrible is rash.
The rash man, however, is also thought to be boastful and only a pretender
to courage; at all events, as the brave man is with regard to what is terrible,
so the rash man wishes to appear; and so he imitates him in situations
where he can. Hence also most of them are a mixture of rashness and cowardice;
for, while in these situations they display confidence, they do not hold
their ground against what is really terrible. The man who exceeds in fear
is a coward; for he fears both what he ought not and as he ought not, and
all the similar characterizations attach to him. He is lacking also in
confidence; but he is more conspicuous for his excess of fear in painful
situations. The coward, then, is a despairing sort of person; for he fears
everything. The brave man, on the other hand, has the opposite disposition;
for confidence is the mark of a hopeful disposition. The coward, the rash
man, and the brave man, then, are concerned with the same objects but are
differently disposed towards them; for the first two exceed and fall short,
while the third holds the middle, which is the right, position; and rash
men are precipitate, and wish for dangers beforehand but draw back when
they are in them, while brave men are keen in the moment of action, but
quiet beforehand.
As we have said, then, courage is a mean with respect to things
that inspire confidence or fear, in the circumstances that have been stated;
and it chooses or endures things because it is noble to do so, or because
it is base not to do so. But to die to escape from poverty or love or anything
painful is not the mark of a brave man, but rather of a coward; for it
is softness to fly from what is troublesome, and such a man endures death
not because it is noble but to fly from evil.
8
Courage, then, is something of this sort, but the name is also
applied to five other kinds.
First comes the courage of the citizen-soldier; for this is most
like true courage. Citizen-soldiers seem to face dangers because of the
penalties imposed by the laws and the reproaches they would otherwise incur,
and because of the honours they win by such action; and therefore those
peoples seem to be bravest among whom cowards are held in dishonour and
brave men in honour. This is the kind of courage that Homer depicts, e.g.
in Diomede and in Hector:
First will Polydamas be to heap reproach on me then;
and
For Hector one day 'mid the Trojans shall utter his
vaulting
harangue:
Afraid was Tydeides, and fled from my face.
This kind of courage is most like to that which we described earlier,
because it is due to virtue; for it is due to shame and to desire of a
noble object (i.e. honour) and avoidance of disgrace, which is ignoble.
One might rank in the same class even those who are compelled by their
rulers; but they are inferior, inasmuch as they do what they do not from
shame but from fear, and to avoid not what is disgraceful but what is painful;
for their masters compel them, as Hector does:
But if I shall spy any dastard that cowers far from the
fight,
Vainly will such an one hope to escape from the
dogs.
And those who give them their posts, and beat them if they retreat,
do the same, and so do those who draw them up with trenches or something
of the sort behind them; all of these apply compulsion. But one ought to
be brave not under compulsion but because it is noble to be
so.
(2) Experience with regard to particular facts is also thought
to be courage; this is indeed the reason why Socrates thought courage was
knowledge. Other people exhibit this quality in other dangers, and professional
soldiers exhibit it in the dangers of war; for there seem to be many empty
alarms in war, of which these have had the most comprehensive experience;
therefore they seem brave, because the others do not know the nature of
the facts. Again, their experience makes them most capable in attack and
in defence, since they can use their arms and have the kind that are likely
to be best both for attack and for defence; therefore they fight like armed
men against unarmed or like trained athletes against amateurs; for in such
contests too it is not the bravest men that fight best, but those who are
strongest and have their bodies in the best condition. Professional soldiers
turn cowards, however, when the danger puts too great a strain on them
and they are inferior in numbers and equipment; for they are the first
to fly, while citizen-forces die at their posts, as in fact happened at
the temple of Hermes. For to the latter flight is disgraceful and death
is preferable to safety on those terms; while the former from the very
beginning faced the danger on the assumption that they were stronger, and
when they know the facts they fly, fearing death more than disgrace; but
the brave man is not that sort of person.
(3) Passion also is sometimes reckoned as courage; those who act
from passion, like wild beasts rushing at those who have wounded them,
are thought to be brave, because brave men also are passionate; for passion
above all things is eager to rush on danger, and hence Homer's 'put strength
into his passion' and 'aroused their spirit and passion and 'hard he breathed
panting' and 'his blood boiled'. For all such expressions seem to indicate
the stirring and onset of passion. Now brave men act for honour's sake,
but passion aids them; while wild beasts act under the influence of pain;
for they attack because they have been wounded or because they are afraid,
since if they are in a forest they do not come near one. Thus they are
not brave because, driven by pain and passion, they rush on danger without
foreseeing any of the perils, since at that rate even asses would be brave
when they are hungry; for blows will not drive them from their food; and
lust also makes adulterers do many daring things. (Those creatures are
not brave, then, which are driven on to danger by pain or passion.) The
'courage' that is due to passion seems to be the most natural, and to be
courage if choice and motive be added.
Men, then, as well as beasts, suffer pain when they are angry,
and are pleased when they exact their revenge; those who fight for these
reasons, however, are pugnacious but not brave; for they do not act for
honour's sake nor as the rule directs, but from strength of feeling; they
have, however, something akin to courage.
(4) Nor are sanguine people brave; for they are confident in danger
only because they have conquered often and against many foes. Yet they
closely resemble brave men, because both are confident; but brave men are
confident for the reasons stated earlier, while these are so because they
think they are the strongest and can suffer nothing. (Drunken men also
behave in this way; they become sanguine). When their adventures do not
succeed, however, they run away; but it was the mark of a brave man to
face things that are, and seem, terrible for a man, because it is noble
to do so and disgraceful not to do so. Hence also it is thought the mark
of a braver man to be fearless and undisturbed in sudden alarms than to
be so in those that are foreseen; for it must have proceeded more from
a state of character, because less from preparation; acts that are foreseen
may be chosen by calculation and rule, but sudden actions must be in accordance
with one's state of character.
(5) People who are ignorant of the danger also appear brave, and
they are not far removed from those of a sanguine temper, but are inferior
inasmuch as they have no self-reliance while these have. Hence also the
sanguine hold their ground for a time; but those who have been deceived
about the facts fly if they know or suspect that these are different from
what they supposed, as happened to the Argives when they fell in with the
Spartans and took them for Sicyonians.
We have, then, described the character both of brave men and of
those who are thought to be brave.
9
Though courage is concerned with feelings of confidence and of
fear, it is not concerned with both alike, but more with the things that
inspire fear; for he who is undisturbed in face of these and bears himself
as he should towards these is more truly brave than the man who does so
towards the things that inspire confidence. It is for facing what is painful,
then, as has been said, that men are called brave. Hence also courage involves
pain, and is justly praised; for it is harder to face what is painful than
to abstain from what is pleasant.
Yet the end which courage sets before it would seem to be pleasant,
but to be concealed by the attending circumstances, as happens also in
athletic contests; for the end at which boxers aim is pleasant- the crown
and the honours- but the blows they take are distressing to flesh and blood,
and painful, and so is their whole exertion; and because the blows and
the exertions are many the end, which is but small, appears to have nothing
pleasant in it. And so, if the case of courage is similar, death and wounds
will be painful to the brave man and against his will, but he will face
them because it is noble to do so or because it is base not to do so. And
the more he is possessed of virtue in its entirety and the happier he is,
the more he will be pained at the thought of death; for life is best worth
living for such a man, and he is knowingly losing the greatest goods, and
this is painful. But he is none the less brave, and perhaps all the more
so, because he chooses noble deeds of war at that cost. It is not the case,
then, with all the virtues that the exercise of them is pleasant, except
in so far as it reaches its end. But it is quite possible that the best
soldiers may be not men of this sort but those who are less brave but have
no other good; for these are ready to face danger, and they sell their
life for trifling gains.
So much, then, for courage; it is not difficult to grasp its nature
in outline, at any rate, from what has been said.
10
After courage let us speak of temperance; for these seem to be
the virtues of the irrational parts. We have said that temperance is a
mean with regard to pleasures (for it is less, and not in the same way,
concerned with pains); self-indulgence also is manifested in the same sphere.
Now, therefore, let us determine with what sort of pleasures they are concerned.
We may assume the distinction between bodily pleasures and those of the
soul, such as love of honour and love of learning; for the lover of each
of these delights in that of which he is a lover, the body being in no
way affected, but rather the mind; but men who are concerned with such
pleasures are called neither temperate nor self-indulgent. Nor, again,
are those who are concerned with the other pleasures that are not bodily;
for those who are fond of hearing and telling stories and who spend their
days on anything that turns up are called gossips, but not self-indulgent,
nor are those who are pained at the loss of money or of
friends.
Temperance must be concerned with bodily pleasures, but not all
even of these; for those who delight in objects of vision, such as colours
and shapes and painting, are called neither temperate nor self-indulgent;
yet it would seem possible to delight even in these either as one should
or to excess or to a deficient degree.
And so too is it with objects of hearing; no one calls those who
delight extravagantly in music or acting self-indulgent, nor those who
do so as they ought temperate.
Nor do we apply these names to those who delight in odour, unless
it be incidentally; we do not call those self-indulgent who delight in
the odour of apples or roses or incense, but rather those who delight in
the odour of unguents or of dainty dishes; for self-indulgent people delight
in these because these remind them of the objects of their appetite. And
one may see even other people, when they are hungry, delighting in the
smell of food; but to delight in this kind of thing is the mark of the
self-indulgent man; for these are objects of appetite to
him.
Nor is there in animals other than man any pleasure connected with
these senses, except incidentally. For dogs do not delight in the scent
of hares, but in the eating of them, but the scent told them the hares
were there; nor does the lion delight in the lowing of the ox, but in eating
it; but he perceived by the lowing that it was near, and therefore appears
to delight in the lowing; and similarly he does not delight because he
sees 'a stag or a wild goat', but because he is going to make a meal of
it. Temperance and self-indulgence, however, are concerned with the kind
of pleasures that the other animals share in, which therefore appear slavish
and brutish; these are touch and taste. But even of taste they appear to
make little or no use; for the business of taste is the discriminating
of flavours, which is done by winetasters and people who season dishes;
but they hardly take pleasure in making these discriminations, or at least
self-indulgent people do not, but in the actual enjoyment, which in all
cases comes through touch, both in the case of food and in that of drink
and in that of sexual intercourse. This is why a certain gourmand prayed
that his throat might become longer than a crane's, implying that it was
the contact that he took pleasure in. Thus the sense with which self-indulgence
is connected is the most widely shared of the senses; and self-indulgence
would seem to be justly a matter of reproach, because it attaches to us
not as men but as animals. To delight in such things, then, and to love
them above all others, is brutish. For even of the pleasures of touch the
most liberal have been eliminated, e.g. those produced in the gymnasium
by rubbing and by the consequent heat; for the contact characteristic of
the self-indulgent man does not affect the whole body but only certain
parts.
11
Of the appetites some seem to be common, others to be peculiar
to individuals and acquired; e.g. the appetite for food is natural, since
every one who is without it craves for food or drink, and sometimes for
both, and for love also (as Homer says) if he is young and lusty; but not
every one craves for this or that kind of nourishment or love, nor for
the same things. Hence such craving appears to be our very own. Yet it
has of course something natural about it; for different things are pleasant
to different kinds of people, and some things are more pleasant to every
one than chance objects. Now in the natural appetites few go wrong, and
only in one direction, that of excess; for to eat or drink whatever offers
itself till one is surfeited is to exceed the natural amount, since natural
appetite is the replenishment of one's deficiency. Hence these people are
called belly-gods, this implying that they fill their belly beyond what
is right. It is people of entirely slavish character that become like this.
But with regard to the pleasures peculiar to individuals many people go
wrong and in many ways. For while the people who are 'fond of so and so'
are so called because they delight either in the wrong things, or more
than most people do, or in the wrong way, the self-indulgent exceed in
all three ways; they both delight in some things that they ought not to
delight in (since they are hateful), and if one ought to delight in some
of the things they delight in, they do so more than one ought and than
most men do.
Plainly, then, excess with regard to pleasures is self-indulgence
and is culpable; with regard to pains one is not, as in the case of courage,
called temperate for facing them or self-indulgent for not doing so, but
the selfindulgent man is so called because he is pained more than he ought
at not getting pleasant things (even his pain being caused by pleasure),
and the temperate man is so called because he is not pained at the absence
of what is pleasant and at his abstinence from it.
The self-indulgent man, then, craves for all pleasant things or
those that are most pleasant, and is led by his appetite to choose these
at the cost of everything else; hence he is pained both when he fails to
get them and when he is merely craving for them (for appetite involves
pain); but it seems absurd to be pained for the sake of pleasure. People
who fall short with regard to pleasures and delight in them less than they
should are hardly found; for such insensibility is not human. Even the
other animals distinguish different kinds of food and enjoy some and not
others; and if there is any one who finds nothing pleasant and nothing
more attractive than anything else, he must be something quite different
from a man; this sort of person has not received a name because he hardly
occurs. The temperate man occupies a middle position with regard to these
objects. For he neither enjoys the things that the self-indulgent man enjoys
most-but rather dislikes them-nor in general the things that he should
not, nor anything of this sort to excess, nor does he feel pain or craving
when they are absent, or does so only to a moderate degree, and not more
than he should, nor when he should not, and so on; but the things that,
being pleasant, make for health or for good condition, he will desire moderately
and as he should, and also other pleasant things if they are not hindrances
to these ends, or contrary to what is noble, or beyond his means. For he
who neglects these conditions loves such pleasures more than they are worth,
but the temperate man is not that sort of person, but the sort of person
that the right rule prescribes.
12
Self-indulgence is more like a voluntary state than cowardice.
For the former is actuated by pleasure, the latter by pain, of which the
one is to be chosen and the other to be avoided; and pain upsets and destroys
the nature of the person who feels it, while pleasure does nothing of the
sort. Therefore self-indulgence is more voluntary. Hence also it is more
a matter of reproach; for it is easier to become accustomed to its objects,
since there are many things of this sort in life, and the process of habituation
to them is free from danger, while with terrible objects the reverse is
the case. But cowardice would seem to be voluntary in a different degree
from its particular manifestations; for it is itself painless, but in these
we are upset by pain, so that we even throw down our arms and disgrace
ourselves in other ways; hence our acts are even thought to be done under
compulsion. For the self-indulgent man, on the other hand, the particular
acts are voluntary (for he does them with craving and desire), but the
whole state is less so; for no one craves to be self-indulgent.
The name self-indulgence is applied also to childish faults; for
they bear a certain resemblance to what we have been considering. Which
is called after which, makes no difference to our present purpose; plainly,
however, the later is called after the earlier. The transference of the
name seems not a bad one; for that which desires what is base and which
develops quickly ought to be kept in a chastened condition, and these characteristics
belong above all to appetite and to the child, since children in fact live
at the beck and call of appetite, and it is in them that the desire for
what is pleasant is strongest. If, then, it is not going to be obedient
and subject to the ruling principle, it will go to great lengths; for in
an irrational being the desire for pleasure is insatiable even if it tries
every source of gratification, and the exercise of appetite increases its
innate force, and if appetites are strong and violent they even expel the
power of calculation. Hence they should be moderate and few, and should
in no way oppose the rational principle-and this is what we call an obedient
and chastened state-and as the child should live according to the direction
of his tutor, so the appetitive element should live according to rational
principle. Hence the appetitive element in a temperate man should harmonize
with the rational principle; for the noble is the mark at which both aim,
and the temperate man craves for the things be ought, as he ought, as when
he ought; and when he ought; and this is what rational principle
directs.
Here we conclude our account of temperance.
Nicomachean Ethics
By Aristotle
Book IV
1
Let us speak next of liberality. It seems to be the mean with regard
to wealth; for the liberal man is praised not in respect of military matters,
nor of those in respect of which the temrate man is praised, nor of judicial
decisions, but with regard to the giving and taking of wealth, and especially
in respect of giving. Now by 'wealth' we mean all the things whose value
is measured by money. Further, prodigality and meanness are excesses and
defects with regard to wealth; and meanness we always impute to those who
care more than they ought for wealth, but we sometimes apply the word 'prodigality'
in a complex sense; for we call those men prodigals who are incontinent
and spend money on self-indulgence. Hence also they are thought the poorest
characters; for they combine more vices than one. Therefore the application
of the word to them is not its proper use; for a 'prodigal' means a man
who has a single evil quality, that of wasting his substance; since a prodigal
is one who is being ruined by his own fault, and the wasting of substance
is thought to be a sort of ruining of oneself, life being held to depend
on possession of substance.
This, then, is the sense in which we take the word 'prodigality'.
Now the things that have a use may be used either well or badly; and riches
is a useful thing; and everything is used best by the man who has the virtue
concerned with it; riches, therefore, will be used best by the man who
has the virtue concerned with wealth; and this is the liberal man. Now
spending and giving seem to be the using of wealth; taking and keeping
rather the possession of it. Hence it is more the mark of the liberal man
to give to the right people than to take from the right sources and not
to take from the wrong. For it is more characteristic of virtue to do good
than to have good done to one, and more characteristic to do what is noble
than not to do what is base; and it is not hard to see that giving implies
doing good and doing what is noble, and taking implies having good done
to one or not acting basely. And gratitude is felt towards him who gives,
not towards him who does not take, and praise also is bestowed more on
him. It is easier, also, not to take than to give; for men are apter to
give away their own too little than to take what is another's. Givers,
too, are called liberal; but those who do not take are not praised for
liberality but rather for justice; while those who take are hardly praised
at all. And the liberal are almost the most loved of all virtuous characters,
since they are useful; and this depends on their giving.
Now virtuous actions are noble and done for the sake of the noble.
Therefore the liberal man, like other virtuous men, will give for the sake
of the noble, and rightly; for he will give to the right people, the right
amounts, and at the right time, with all the other qualifications that
accompany right giving; and that too with pleasure or without pain; for
that which is virtuous is pleasant or free from pain-least of all will
it be painful. But he who gives to the wrong people or not for the sake
of the noble but for some other cause, will be called not liberal but by
some other name. Nor is he liberal who gives with pain; for he would prefer
the wealth to the noble act, and this is not characteristic of a liberal
man. But no more will the liberal man take from wrong sources; for such
taking is not characteristic of the man who sets no store by wealth. Nor
will he be a ready asker; for it is not characteristic of a man who confers
benefits to accept them lightly. But he will take from the right sources,
e.g. from his own possessions, not as something noble but as a necessity,
that he may have something to give. Nor will he neglect his own property,
since he wishes by means of this to help others. And he will refrain from
giving to anybody and everybody, that he may have something to give to
the right people, at the right time, and where it is noble to do so. It
is highly characteristic of a liberal man also to go to excess in giving,
so that he leaves too little for himself; for it is the nature of a liberal
man not to look to himself. The term 'liberality' is used relatively to
a man's substance; for liberality resides not in the multitude of the gifts
but in the state of character of the giver, and this is relative to the
giver's substance. There is therefore nothing to prevent the man who gives
less from being the more liberal man, if he has less to give those are
thought to be more liberal who have not made their wealth but inherited
it; for in the first place they have no experience of want, and secondly
all men are fonder of their own productions, as are parents and poets.
It is not easy for the liberal man to be rich, since he is not apt either
at taking or at keeping, but at giving away, and does not value wealth
for its own sake but as a means to giving. Hence comes the charge that
is brought against fortune, that those who deserve riches most get it least.
But it is not unreasonable that it should turn out so; for he cannot have
wealth, any more than anything else, if he does not take pains to have
it. Yet he will not give to the wrong people nor at the wrong time, and
so on; for he would no longer be acting in accordance with liberality,
and if he spent on these objects he would have nothing to spend on the
right objects. For, as has been said, he is liberal who spends according
to his substance and on the right objects; and he who exceeds is prodigal.
Hence we do not call despots prodigal; for it is thought not easy for them
to give and spend beyond the amount of their possessions. Liberality, then,
being a mean with regard to giving and taking of wealth, the liberal man
will both give and spend the right amounts and on the right objects, alike
in small things and in great, and that with pleasure; he will also take
the right amounts and from the right sources. For, the virtue being a mean
with regard to both, he will do both as he ought; since this sort of taking
accompanies proper giving, and that which is not of this sort is contrary
to it, and accordingly the giving and taking that accompany each other
are present together in the same man, while the contrary kinds evidently
are not. But if he happens to spend in a manner contrary to what is right
and noble, he will be pained, but moderately and as he ought; for it is
the mark of virtue both to be pleased and to be pained at the right objects
and in the right way. Further, the liberal man is easy to deal with in
money matters; for he can be got the better of, since he sets no store
by money, and is more annoyed if he has not spent something that he ought
than pained if he has spent something that he ought not, and does not agree
with the saying of Simonides.
The prodigal errs in these respects also; for he is neither pleased
nor pained at the right things or in the right way; this will be more evident
as we go on. We have said that prodigality and meanness are excesses and
deficiencies, and in two things, in giving and in taking; for we include
spending under giving. Now prodigality exceeds in giving and not taking,
while meanness falls short in giving, and exceeds in taking, except in
small things.
The characteristics of prodigality are not often combined; for
it is not easy to give to all if you take from none; private persons soon
exhaust their substance with giving, and it is to these that the name of
prodigals is applied- though a man of this sort would seem to be in no
small degree better than a mean man. For he is easily cured both by age
and by poverty, and thus he may move towards the middle state. For he has
the characteristics of the liberal man, since he both gives and refrains
from taking, though he does neither of these in the right manner or well.
Therefore if he were brought to do so by habituation or in some other way,
he would be liberal; for he will then give to the right people, and will
not take from the wrong sources. This is why he is thought to have not
a bad character; it is not the mark of a wicked or ignoble man to go to
excess in giving and not taking, but only of a foolish one. The man who
is prodigal in this way is thought much better than the mean man both for
the aforesaid reasons and because he benefits many while the other benefits
no one, not even himself.
But most prodigal people, as has been said, also take from the
wrong sources, and are in this respect mean. They become apt to take because
they wish to spend and cannot do this easily; for their possessions soon
run short. Thus they are forced to provide means from some other source.
At the same time, because they care nothing for honour, they take recklessly
and from any source; for they have an appetite for giving, and they do
not mind how or from what source. Hence also their giving is not liberal;
for it is not noble, nor does it aim at nobility, nor is it done in the
right way; sometimes they make rich those who should be poor, and will
give nothing to people of respectable character, and much to flatterers
or those who provide them with some other pleasure. Hence also most of
them are self-indulgent; for they spend lightly and waste money on their
indulgences, and incline towards pleasures because they do not live with
a view to what is noble.
The prodigal man, then, turns into what we have described if he
is left untutored, but if he is treated with care he will arrive at the
intermediate and right state. But meanness is both incurable (for old age
and every disability is thought to make men mean) and more innate in men
than prodigality; for most men are fonder of getting money than of giving.
It also extends widely, and is multiform, since there seem to be many kinds
of meanness.
For it consists in two things, deficiency in giving and excess
in taking, and is not found complete in all men but is sometimes divided;
some men go to excess in taking, others fall short in giving. Those who
are called by such names as 'miserly', 'close', 'stingy', all fall short
in giving, but do not covet the possessions of others nor wish to get them.
In some this is due to a sort of honesty and avoidance of what is disgraceful
(for some seem, or at least profess, to hoard their money for this reason,
that they may not some day be forced to do something disgraceful; to this
class belong the cheeseparer and every one of the sort; he is so called
from his excess of unwillingness to give anything); while others again
keep their hands off the property of others from fear, on the ground that
it is not easy, if one takes the property of others oneself, to avoid having
one's own taken by them; they are therefore content neither to take nor
to give.
Others again exceed in respect of taking by taking anything and
from any source, e.g. those who ply sordid trades, pimps and all such people,
and those who lend small sums and at high rates. For all of these take
more than they ought and from wrong sources. What is common to them is
evidently sordid love of gain; they all put up with a bad name for the
sake of gain, and little gain at that. For those who make great gains but
from wrong sources, and not the right gains, e.g. despots when they sack
cities and spoil temples, we do not call mean but rather wicked, impious,
and unjust. But the gamester and the footpad (and the highwayman) belong
to the class of the mean, since they have a sordid love of gain. For it
is for gain that both of them ply their craft and endure the disgrace of
it, and the one faces the greatest dangers for the sake of the booty, while
the other makes gain from his friends, to whom he ought to be giving. Both,
then, since they are willing to make gain from wrong sources, are sordid
lovers of gain; therefore all such forms of taking are
mean.
And it is natural that meanness is described as the contrary of
liberality; for not only is it a greater evil than prodigality, but men
err more often in this direction than in the way of prodigality as we have
described it.
So much, then, for liberality and the opposed
vices.
2
It would seem proper to discuss magnificence next. For this also
seems to be a virtue concerned with wealth; but it does not like liberality
extend to all the actions that are concerned with wealth, but only to those
that involve expenditure; and in these it surpasses liberality in scale.
For, as the name itself suggests, it is a fitting expenditure involving
largeness of scale. But the scale is relative; for the expense of equipping
a trireme is not the same as that of heading a sacred embassy. It is what
is fitting, then, in relation to the agent, and to the circumstances and
the object. The man who in small or middling things spends according to
the merits of the case is not called magnificent (e.g. the man who can
say 'many a gift I gave the wanderer'), but only the man who does so in
great things. For the magnificent man is liberal, but the liberal man is
not necessarily magnificent. The deficiency of this state of character
is called niggardliness, the excess vulgarity, lack of taste, and the like,
which do not go to excess in the amount spent on right objects, but by
showy expenditure in the wrong circumstances and the wrong manner; we shall
speak of these vices later.
The magnificent man is like an artist; for he can see what is fitting
and spend large sums tastefully. For, as we said at the begining, a state
of character is determined by its activities and by its objects. Now the
expenses of the magnificent man are large and fitting. Such, therefore,
are also his results; for thus there will be a great expenditure and one
that is fitting to its result. Therefore the result should be worthy of
the expense, and the expense should be worthy of the result, or should
even exceed it. And the magnificent man will spend such sums for honour's
sake; for this is common to the virtues. And further he will do so gladly
and lavishly; for nice calculation is a niggardly thing. And he will consider
how the result can be made most beautiful and most becoming rather than
for how much it can be produced and how it can be produced most cheaply.
It is necessary, then, that the magnificent man be also liberal. For the
liberal man also will spend what he ought and as he ought; and it is in
these matters that the greatness implied in the name of the magnificent
man-his bigness, as it were-is manifested, since liberality is concerned
with these matters; and at an equal expense he will produce a more magnificent
work of art. For a possession and a work of art have not the same excellence.
The most valuable possession is that which is worth most, e.g. gold, but
the most valuable work of art is that which is great and beautiful (for
the contemplation of such a work inspires admiration, and so does magnificence);
and a work has an excellence-viz. magnificence-which involves magnitude.
Magnificence is an attribute of expenditures of the kind which we call
honourable, e.g. those connected with the gods-votive offerings, buildings,
and sacrifices-and similarly with any form of religious worship, and all
those that are proper objects of public-spirited ambition, as when people
think they ought to equip a chorus or a trireme, or entertain the city,
in a brilliant way. But in all cases, as has been said, we have regard
to the agent as well and ask who he is and what means he has; for the expenditure
should be worthy of his means, and suit not only the result but also the
producer. Hence a poor man cannot be magnificent, since he has not the
means with which to spend large sums fittingly; and he who tries is a fool,
since he spends beyond what can be expected of him and what is proper,
but it is right expenditure that is virtuous. But great expenditure is
becoming to those who have suitable means to start with, acquired by their
own efforts or from ancestors or connexions, and to people of high birth
or reputation, and so on; for all these things bring with them greatness
and prestige. Primarily, then, the magnificent man is of this sort, and
magnificence is shown in expenditures of this sort, as has been said; for
these are the greatest and most honourable. Of private occasions of expenditure
the most suitable are those that take place once for all, e.g. a wedding
or anything of the kind, or anything that interests the whole city or the
people of position in it, and also the receiving of foreign guests and
the sending of them on their way, and gifts and counter-gifts; for the
magnificent man spends not on himself but on public objects, and gifts
bear some resemblance to votive offerings. A magnificent man will also
furnish his house suitably to his wealth (for even a house is a sort of
public ornament), and will spend by preference on those works that are
lasting (for these are the most beautiful), and on every class of things
he will spend what is becoming; for the same things are not suitable for
gods and for men, nor in a temple and in a tomb. And since each expenditure
may be great of its kind, and what is most magnificent absolutely is great
expenditure on a great object, but what is magnificent here is what is
great in these circumstances, and greatness in the work differs from greatness
in the expense (for the most beautiful ball or bottle is magnificent as
a gift to a child, but the price of it is small and mean),-therefore it
is characteristic of the magnificent man, whatever kind of result he is
producing, to produce it magnificently (for such a result is not easily
surpassed) and to make it worthy of the expenditure.
Such, then, is the magnificent man; the man who goes to excess
and is vulgar exceeds, as has been said, by spending beyond what is right.
For on small objects of expenditure he spends much and displays a tasteless
showiness; e.g. he gives a club dinner on the scale of a wedding banquet,
and when he provides the chorus for a comedy he brings them on to the stage
in purple, as they do at Megara. And all such things he will do not for
honour's sake but to show off his wealth, and because he thinks he is admired
for these things, and where he ought to spend much he spends little and
where little, much. The niggardly man on the other hand will fall short
in everything, and after spending the greatest sums will spoil the beauty
of the result for a trifle, and whatever he is doing he will hesitate and
consider how he may spend least, and lament even that, and think he is
doing everything on a bigger scale than he ought.
These states of character, then, are vices; yet they do not bring
disgrace because they are neither harmful to one's neighbour nor very
unseemly.
3
Pride seems even from its name to be concerned with great things;
what sort of great things, is the first question we must try to answer.
It makes no difference whether we consider the state of character or the
man characterized by it. Now the man is thought to be proud who thinks
himself worthy of great things, being worthy of them; for he who does so
beyond his deserts is a fool, but no virtuous man is foolish or silly.
The proud man, then, is the man we have described. For he who is worthy
of little and thinks himself worthy of little is temperate, but not proud;
for pride implies greatness, as beauty implies a goodsized body, and little
people may be neat and well-proportioned but cannot be beautiful. On the
other hand, he who thinks himself worthy of great things, being unworthy
of them, is vain; though not every one who thinks himself worthy of more
than he really is worthy of in vain. The man who thinks himself worthy
of worthy of less than he is really worthy of is unduly humble, whether
his deserts be great or moderate, or his deserts be small but his claims
yet smaller. And the man whose deserts are great would seem most unduly
humble; for what would he have done if they had been less? The proud man,
then, is an extreme in respect of the greatness of his claims, but a mean
in respect of the rightness of them; for he claims what is accordance with
his merits, while the others go to excess or fall short.
If, then, he deserves and claims great things, and above all the
great things, he will be concerned with one thing in particular. Desert
is relative to external goods; and the greatest of these, we should say,
is that which we render to the gods, and which people of position most
aim at, and which is the prize appointed for the noblest deeds; and this
is honour; that is surely the greatest of external goods. Honours and dishonours,
therefore, are the objects with respect to which the proud man is as he
should be. And even apart from argument it is with honour that proud men
appear to be concerned; for it is honour that they chiefly claim, but in
accordance with their deserts. The unduly humble man falls short both in
comparison with his own merits and in comparison with the proud man's claims.
The vain man goes to excess in comparison with his own merits, but does
not exceed the proud man's claims.
Now the proud man, since he deserves most, must be good in the
highest degree; for the better man always deserves more, and the best man
most. Therefore the truly proud man must be good. And greatness in every
virtue would seem to be characteristic of a proud man. And it would be
most unbecoming for a proud man to fly from danger, swinging his arms by
his sides, or to wrong another; for to what end should he do disgraceful
acts, he to whom nothing is great? If we consider him point by point we
shall see the utter absurdity of a proud man who is not good. Nor, again,
would he be worthy of honour if he were bad; for honour is the prize of
virtue, and it is to the good that it is rendered. Pride, then, seems to
be a sort of crown of the virtues; for it makes them greater, and it is
not found without them. Therefore it is hard to be truly proud; for it
is impossible without nobility and goodness of character. It is chiefly
with honours and dishonours, then, that the proud man is concerned; and
at honours that are great and conferred by good men he will be moderately
Pleased, thinking that he is coming by his own or even less than his own;
for there can be no honour that is worthy of perfect virtue, yet he will
at any rate accept it since they have nothing greater to bestow on him;
but honour from casual people and on trifling grounds he will utterly despise,
since it is not this that he deserves, and dishonour too, since in his
case it cannot be just. In the first place, then, as has been said, the
proud man is concerned with honours; yet he will also bear himself with
moderation towards wealth and power and all good or evil fortune, whatever
may befall him, and will be neither over-joyed by good fortune nor over-pained
by evil. For not even towards honour does he bear himself as if it were
a very great thing. Power and wealth are desirable for the sake of honour
(at least those who have them wish to get honour by means of them); and
for him to whom even honour is a little thing the others must be so too.
Hence proud men are thought to be disdainful.
The goods of fortune also are thought to contribute towards pride.
For men who are well-born are thought worthy of honour, and so are those
who enjoy power or wealth; for they are in a superior position, and everything
that has a superiority in something good is held in greater honour. Hence
even such things make men prouder; for they are honoured by some for having
them; but in truth the good man alone is to be honoured; he, however, who
has both advantages is thought the more worthy of honour. But those who
without virtue have such goods are neither justified in making great claims
nor entitled to the name of 'proud'; for these things imply perfect virtue.
Disdainful and insolent, however, even those who have such goods become.
For without virtue it is not easy to bear gracefully the goods of fortune;
and, being unable to bear them, and thinking themselves superior to others,
they despise others and themselves do what they please. They imitate the
proud man without being like him, and this they do where they can; so they
do not act virtuously, but they do despise others. For the proud man despises
justly (since he thinks truly), but the many do so at
random.
He does not run into trifling dangers, nor is he fond of danger,
because he honours few things; but he will face great dangers, and when
he is in danger he is unsparing of his life, knowing that there are conditions
on which life is not worth having. And he is the sort of man to confer
benefits, but he is ashamed of receiving them; for the one is the mark
of a superior, the other of an inferior. And he is apt to confer greater
benefits in return; for thus the original benefactor besides being paid
will incur a debt to him, and will be the gainer by the transaction. They
seem also to remember any service they have done, but not those they have
received (for he who receives a service is inferior to him who has done
it, but the proud man wishes to be superior), and to hear of the former
with pleasure, of the latter with displeasure; this, it seems, is why Thetis
did not mention to Zeus the services she had done him, and why the Spartans
did not recount their services to the Athenians, but those they had received.
It is a mark of the proud man also to ask for nothing or scarcely anything,
but to give help readily, and to be dignified towards people who enjoy
high position and good fortune, but unassuming towards those of the middle
class; for it is a difficult and lofty thing to be superior to the former,
but easy to be so to the latter, and a lofty bearing over the former is
no mark of ill-breeding, but among humble people it is as vulgar as a display
of strength against the weak. Again, it is characteristic of the proud
man not to aim at the things commonly held in honour, or the things in
which others excel; to be sluggish and to hold back except where great
honour or a great work is at stake, and to be a man of few deeds, but of
great and notable ones. He must also be open in his hate and in his love
(for to conceal one's feelings, i.e. to care less for truth than for what
people will think, is a coward's part), and must speak and act openly;
for he is free of speech because he is contemptuous, and he is given to
telling the truth, except when he speaks in irony to the vulgar. He must
be unable to make his life revolve round another, unless it be a friend;
for this is slavish, and for this reason all flatterers are servile and
people lacking in self-respect are flatterers. Nor is he given to admiration;
for nothing to him is great. Nor is he mindful of wrongs; for it is not
the part of a proud man to have a long memory, especially for wrongs, but
rather to overlook them. Nor is he a gossip; for he will speak neither
about himself nor about another, since he cares not to be praised nor for
others to be blamed; nor again is he given to praise; and for the same
reason he is not an evil-speaker, even about his enemies, except from haughtiness.
With regard to necessary or small matters he is least of all me given to
lamentation or the asking of favours; for it is the part of one who takes
such matters seriously to behave so with respect to them. He is one who
will possess beautiful and profitless things rather than profitable and
useful ones; for this is more proper to a character that suffices to
itself.
Further, a slow step is thought proper to the proud man, a deep
voice, and a level utterance; for the man who takes few things seriously
is not likely to be hurried, nor the man who thinks nothing great to be
excited, while a shrill voice and a rapid gait are the results of hurry
and excitement.
Such, then, is the proud man; the man who falls short of him is
unduly humble, and the man who goes beyond him is vain. Now even these
are not thought to be bad (for they are not malicious), but only mistaken.
For the unduly humble man, being worthy of good things, robs himself of
what he deserves, and to have something bad about him from the fact that
he does not think himself worthy of good things, and seems also not to
know himself; else he would have desired the things he was worthy of, since
these were good. Yet such people are not thought to be fools, but rather
unduly retiring. Such a reputation, however, seems actually to make them
worse; for each class of people aims at what corresponds to its worth,
and these people stand back even from noble actions and undertakings, deeming
themselves unworthy, and from external goods no less. Vain people, on the
other hand, are fools and ignorant of themselves, and that manifestly;
for, not being worthy of them, they attempt honourable undertakings, and
then are found out; and tetadorn themselves with clothing and outward show
and such things, and wish their strokes of good fortune to be made public,
and speak about them as if they would be honoured for them. But undue humility
is more opposed to pride than vanity is; for it is both commoner and
worse.
Pride, then, is concerned with honour on the grand scale, as has
been said.
4
There seems to be in the sphere of honour also, as was said in
our first remarks on the subject, a virtue which would appear to be related
to pride as liberality is to magnificence. For neither of these has anything
to do with the grand scale, but both dispose us as is right with regard
to middling and unimportant objects; as in getting and giving of wealth
there is a mean and an excess and defect, so too honour may be desired
more than is right, or less, or from the right sources and in the right
way. We blame both the ambitious man as am at honour more than is right
and from wrong sources, and the unambitious man as not willing to be honoured
even for noble reasons. But sometimes we praise the ambitious man as being
manly and a lover of what is noble, and the unambitious man as being moderate
and self-controlled, as we said in our first treatment of the subject.
Evidently, since 'fond of such and such an object' has more than one meaning,
we do not assign the term 'ambition' or 'love of honour' always to the
same thing, but when we praise the quality we think of the man who loves
honour more than most people, and when we blame it we think of him who
loves it more than is right. The mean being without a name, the extremes
seem to dispute for its place as though that were vacant by default. But
where there is excess and defect, there is also an intermediate; now men
desire honour both more than they should and less; therefore it is possible
also to do so as one should; at all events this is the state of character
that is praised, being an unnamed mean in respect of honour. Relatively
to ambition it seems to be unambitiousness, and relatively to unambitiousness
it seems to be ambition, while relatively to both severally it seems in
a sense to be both together. This appears to be true of the other virtues
also. But in this case the extremes seem to be contradictories because
the mean has not received a name.
5
Good temper is a mean with respect to anger; the middle state being
unnamed, and the extremes almost without a name as well, we place good
temper in the middle position, though it inclines towards the deficiency,
which is without a name. The excess might called a sort of 'irascibility'.
For the passion is anger, while its causes are many and
diverse.
The man who is angry at the right things and with the right people,
and, further, as he ought, when he ought, and as long as he ought, is praised.
This will be the good-tempered man, then, since good temper is praised.
For the good-tempered man tends to be unperturbed and not to be led by
passion, but to be angry in the manner, at the things, and for the length
of time, that the rule dictates; but he is thought to err rather in the
direction of deficiency; for the good-tempered man is not revengeful, but
rather tends to make allowances.
The deficiency, whether it is a sort of 'inirascibility' or whatever
it is, is blamed. For those who are not angry at the things they should
be angry at are thought to be fools, and so are those who are not angry
in the right way, at the right time, or with the right persons; for such
a man is thought not to feel things nor to be pained by them, and, since
he does not get angry, he is thought unlikely to defend himself; and to
endure being insulted and put up with insult to one's friends is
slavish.
The excess can be manifested in all the points that have been named
(for one can be angry with the wrong persons, at the wrong things, more
than is right, too quickly, or too long); yet all are not found in the
same person. Indeed they could not; for evil destroys even itself, and
if it is complete becomes unbearable. Now hot-tempered people get angry
quickly and with the wrong persons and at the wrong things and more than
is right, but their anger ceases quickly-which is the best point about
them. This happens to them because they do not restrain their anger but
retaliate openly owing to their quickness of temper, and then their anger
ceases. By reason of excess choleric people are quick-tempered and ready
to be angry with everything and on every occasion; whence their name. Sulky
people are hard to appease, and retain their anger long; for they repress
their passion. But it ceases when they retaliate; for revenge relieves
them of their anger, producing in them pleasure instead of pain. If this
does not happen they retain their burden; for owing to its not being obvious
no one even reasons with them, and to digest one's anger in oneself takes
time. Such people are most troublesome to themselves and to their dearest
friends. We call had-tempered those who are angry at the wrong things,
more than is right, and longer, and cannot be appeased until they inflict
vengeance or punishment.
To good temper we oppose the excess rather than the defect; for
not only is it commoner since revenge is the more human), but bad-tempered
people are worse to live with.
What we have said in our earlier treatment of the subject is plain
also from what we are now saying; viz. that it is not easy to define how,
with whom, at what, and how long one should be angry, and at what point
right action ceases and wrong begins. For the man who strays a little from
the path, either towards the more or towards the less, is not blamed; since
sometimes we praise those who exhibit the deficiency, and call them good-tempered,
and sometimes we call angry people manly, as being capable of ruling. How
far, therefore, and how a man must stray before he becomes blameworthy,
it is not easy to state in words; for the decision depends on the particular
facts and on perception. But so much at least is plain, that the middle
state is praiseworthy- that in virtue of which we are angry with the right
people, at the right things, in the right way, and so on, while the excesses
and defects are blameworthy- slightly so if they are present in a low degree,
more if in a higher degree, and very much if in a high degree. Evidently,
then, we must cling to the middle state.- Enough of the states relative
to anger.
6
In gatherings of men, in social life and the interchange of words
and deeds, some men are thought to be obsequious, viz. those who to give
pleasure praise everything and never oppose, but think it their duty 'to
give no pain to the people they meet'; while those who, on the contrary,
oppose everything and care not a whit about giving pain are called churlish
and contentious. That the states we have named are culpable is plain enough,
and that the middle state is laudable- that in virtue of which a man will
put up with, and will resent, the right things and in the right way; but
no name has been assigned to it, though it most resembles friendship. For
the man who corresponds to this middle state is very much what, with affection
added, we call a good friend. But the state in question differs from friendship
in that it implies no passion or affection for one's associates; since
it is not by reason of loving or hating that such a man takes everything
in the right way, but by being a man of a certain kind. For he will behave
so alike towards those he knows and those he does not know, towards intimates
and those who are not so, except that in each of these cases he will behave
as is befitting; for it is not proper to have the same care for intimates
and for strangers, nor again is it the same conditions that make it right
to give pain to them. Now we have said generally that he will associate
with people in the right way; but it is by reference to what is honourable
and expedient that he will aim at not giving pain or at contributing pleasure.
For he seems to be concerned with the pleasures and pains of social life;
and wherever it is not honourable, or is harmful, for him to contribute
pleasure, he will refuse, and will choose rather to give pain; also if
his acquiescence in another's action would bring disgrace, and that in
a high degree, or injury, on that other, while his opposition brings a
little pain, he will not acquiesce but will decline. He will associate
differently with people in high station and with ordinary people, with
closer and more distant acquaintances, and so too with regard to all other
differences, rendering to each class what is befitting, and while for its
own sake he chooses to contribute pleasure, and avoids the giving of pain,
he will be guided by the consequences, if these are greater, i.e. honour
and expediency. For the sake of a great future pleasure, too, he will inflict
small pains.
The man who attains the mean, then, is such as we have described,
but has not received a name; of those who contribute pleasure, the man
who aims at being pleasant with no ulterior object is obsequious, but the
man who does so in order that he may get some advantage in the direction
of money or the things that money buys is a flatterer; while the man who
quarrels with everything is, as has been said, churlish and contentious.
And the extremes seem to be contradictory to each other because the mean
is without a name.
7
The mean opposed to boastfulness is found in almost the same sphere;
and this also is without a name. It will be no bad plan to describe these
states as well; for we shall both know the facts about character better
if we go through them in detail, and we shall be convinced that the virtues
are means if we see this to be so in all cases. In the field of social
life those who make the giving of pleasure or pain their object in associating
with others have been described; let us now describe those who pursue truth
or falsehood alike in words and deeds and in the claims they put forward.
The boastful man, then, is thought to be apt to claim the things that bring
glory, when he has not got them, or to claim more of them than he has,
and the mock-modest man on the other hand to disclaim what he has or belittle
it, while the man who observes the mean is one who calls a thing by its
own name, being truthful both in life and in word, owning to what he has,
and neither more nor less. Now each of these courses may be adopted either
with or without an object. But each man speaks and acts and lives in accordance
with his character, if he is not acting for some ulterior object. And falsehood
is in itself mean and culpable, and truth noble and worthy of praise. Thus
the truthful man is another case of a man who, being in the mean, is worthy
of praise, and both forms of untruthful man are culpable, and particularly
the boastful man.
Let us discuss them both, but first of all the truthful man. We
are not speaking of the man who keeps faith in his agreements, i.e. in
the things that pertain to justice or injustice (for this would belong
to another virtue), but the man who in the matters in which nothing of
this sort is at stake is true both in word and in life because his character
is such. But such a man would seem to be as a matter of fact equitable.
For the man who loves truth, and is truthful where nothing is at stake,
will still more be truthful where something is at stake; he will avoid
falsehood as something base, seeing that he avoided it even for its own
sake; and such a man is worthy of praise. He inclines rather to understate
the truth; for this seems in better taste because exaggerations are
wearisome.
He who claims more than he has with no ulterior object is a contemptible
sort of fellow (otherwise he would not have delighted in falsehood), but
seems futile rather than bad; but if he does it for an object, he who does
it for the sake of reputation or honour is (for a boaster) not very much
to be blamed, but he who does it for money, or the things that lead to
money, is an uglier character (it is not the capacity that makes the boaster,
but the purpose; for it is in virtue of his state of character and by being
a man of a certain kind that he is boaster); as one man is a liar because
he enjoys the lie itself, and another because he desires reputation or
gain. Now those who boast for the sake of reputation claim such qualities
as will praise or congratulation, but those whose object is gain claim
qualities which are of value to one's neighbours and one's lack of which
is not easily detected, e.g. the powers of a seer, a sage, or a physician.
For this reason it is such things as these that most people claim and boast
about; for in them the above-mentioned qualities are
found.
Mock-modest people, who understate things, seem more attractive
in character; for they are thought to speak not for gain but to avoid parade;
and here too it is qualities which bring reputation that they disclaim,
as Socrates used to do. Those who disclaim trifling and obvious qualities
are called humbugs and are more contemptible; and sometimes this seems
to be boastfulness, like the Spartan dress; for both excess and great deficiency
are boastful. But those who use understatement with moderation and understate
about matters that do not very much force themselves on our notice seem
attractive. And it is the boaster that seems to be opposed to the truthful
man; for he is the worse character.
8
Since life includes rest as well as activity, and in this is included
leisure and amusement, there seems here also to be a kind of intercourse
which is tasteful; there is such a thing as saying- and again listening
to- what one should and as one should. The kind of people one is speaking
or listening to will also make a difference. Evidently here also there
is both an excess and a deficiency as compared with the mean. Those who
carry humour to excess are thought to be vulgar buffoons, striving after
humour at all costs, and aiming rather at raising a laugh than at saying
what is becoming and at avoiding pain to the object of their fun; while
those who can neither make a joke themselves nor put up with those who
do are thought to be boorish and unpolished. But those who joke in a tasteful
way are called ready-witted, which implies a sort of readiness to turn
this way and that; for such sallies are thought to be movements of the
character, and as bodies are discriminated by their movements, so too are
characters. The ridiculous side of things is not far to seek, however,
and most people delight more than they should in amusement and in jestinly.
and so even buffoons are called ready-witted because they are found attractive;
but that they differ from the ready-witted man, and to no small extent,
is clear from what has been said.
To the middle state belongs also tact; it is the mark of a tactful
man to say and listen to such things as befit a good and well-bred man;
for there are some things that it befits such a man to say and to hear
by way of jest, and the well-bred man's jesting differs from that of a
vulgar man, and the joking of an educated man from that of an uneducated.
One may see this even from the old and the new comedies; to the authors
of the former indecency of language was amusing, to those of the latter
innuendo is more so; and these differ in no small degree in respect of
propriety. Now should we define the man who jokes well by his saying what
is not unbecoming to a well-bred man, or by his not giving pain, or even
giving delight, to the hearer? Or is the latter definition, at any rate,
itself indefinite, since different things are hateful or pleasant to different
people? The kind of jokes he will listen to will be the same; for the kind
he can put up with are also the kind he seems to make. There are, then,
jokes he will not make; for the jest is a sort of abuse, and there are
things that lawgivers forbid us to abuse; and they should, perhaps, have
forbidden us even to make a jest of such. The refined and well-bred man,
therefore, will be as we have described, being as it were a law to
himself.
Such, then, is the man who observes the mean, whether he be called
tactful or ready-witted. The buffoon, on the other hand, is the slave of
his sense of humour, and spares neither himself nor others if he can raise
a laugh, and says things none of which a man of refinement would say, and
to some of which he would not even listen. The boor, again, is useless
for such social intercourse; for he contributes nothing and finds fault
with everything. But relaxation and amusement are thought to be a necessary
element in life.
The means in life that have been described, then, are three in
number, and are all concerned with an interchange of words and deeds of
some kind. They differ, however, in that one is concerned with truth; and
the other two with pleasantness. Of those concerned with pleasure, one
is displayed in jests, the other in the general social intercourse of
life.
9
Shame should not be described as a virtue; for it is more like
a feeling than a state of character. It is defined, at any rate, as a kind
of fear of dishonour, and produces an effect similar to that produced by
fear of danger; for people who feel disgraced blush, and those who fear
death turn pale. Both, therefore, seem to be in a sense bodily conditions,
which is thought to be characteristic of feeling rather than of a state
of character.
The feeling is not becoming to every age, but only to youth. For
we think young people should be prone to the feeling of shame because they
live by feeling and therefore commit many errors, but are restrained by
shame; and we praise young people who are prone to this feeling, but an
older person no one would praise for being prone to the sense of disgrace,
since we think he should not do anything that need cause this sense. For
the sense of disgrace is not even characteristic of a good man, since it
is consequent on bad actions (for such actions should not be done; and
if some actions are disgraceful in very truth and others only according
to common opinion, this makes no difference; for neither class of actions
should be done, so that no disgrace should be felt); and it is a mark of
a bad man even to be such as to do any disgraceful action. To be so constituted
as to feel disgraced if one does such an action, and for this reason to
think oneself good, is absurd; for it is for voluntary actions that shame
is felt, and the good man will never voluntarily do bad actions. But shame
may be said to be conditionally a good thing; if a good man does such actions,
he will feel disgraced; but the virtues are not subject to such a qualification.
And if shamelessness-not to be ashamed of doing base actions-is bad, that
does not make it good to be ashamed of doing such actions. Continence too
is not virtue, but a mixed sort of state; this will be shown later. Now,
however, let us discuss justice.
Nicomachean Ethics
By Aristotle
Book V
1
With regards to justice and injustice we must (1) consider what
kind of actions they are concerned with, (2) what sort of mean justice
is, and (3) between what extremes the just act is intermediate. Our investigation
shall follow the same course as the preceding discussions.
We see that all men mean by justice that kind of state of character
which makes people disposed to do what is just and makes them act justly
and wish for what is just; and similarly by injustice that state which
makes them act unjustly and wish for what is unjust. Let us too, then,
lay this down as a general basis. For the same is not true of the sciences
and the faculties as of states of character. A faculty or a science which
is one and the same is held to relate to contrary objects, but a state
of character which is one of two contraries does not produce the contrary
results; e.g. as a result of health we do not do what is the opposite of
healthy, but only what is healthy; for we say a man walks healthily, when
he walks as a healthy man would.
Now often one contrary state is recognized from its contrary, and
often states are recognized from the subjects that exhibit them; for (A)
if good condition is known, bad condition also becomes known, and (B) good
condition is known from the things that are in good condition, and they
from it. If good condition is firmness of flesh, it is necessary both that
bad condition should be flabbiness of flesh and that the wholesome should
be that which causes firmness in flesh. And it follows for the most part
that if one contrary is ambiguous the other also will be ambiguous; e.g.
if 'just' is so, that 'unjust' will be so too.
Now 'justice' and 'injustice' seem to be ambiguous, but because
their different meanings approach near to one another the ambiguity escapes
notice and is not obvious as it is, comparatively, when the meanings are
far apart, e.g. (for here the difference in outward form is great) as the
ambiguity in the use of kleis for the collar-bone of an animal and for
that with which we lock a door. Let us take as a starting-point, then,
the various meanings of 'an unjust man'. Both the lawless man and the grasping
and unfair man are thought to be unjust, so that evidently both the law-abiding
and the fair man will be just. The just, then, is the lawful and the fair,
the unjust the unlawful and the unfair.
Since the unjust man is grasping, he must be concerned with goods-not
all goods, but those with which prosperity and adversity have to do, which
taken absolutely are always good, but for a particular person are not always
good. Now men pray for and pursue these things; but they should not, but
should pray that the things that are good absolutely may also be good for
them, and should choose the things that are good for them. The unjust man
does not always choose the greater, but also the less-in the case of things
bad absolutely; but because the lesser evil is itself thought to be in
a sense good, and graspingness is directed at the good, therefore he is
thought to be grasping. And he is unfair; for this contains and is common
to both.
Since the lawless man was seen to be unjust and the law-abiding
man just, evidently all lawful acts are in a sense just acts; for the acts
laid down by the legislative art are lawful, and each of these, we say,
is just. Now the laws in their enactments on all subjects aim at the common
advantage either of all or of the best or of those who hold power, or something
of the sort; so that in one sense we call those acts just that tend to
produce and preserve happiness and its components for the political society.
And the law bids us do both the acts of a brave man (e.g. not to desert
our post nor take to flight nor throw away our arms), and those of a temperate
man (e.g. not to commit adultery nor to gratify one's lust), and those
of a good-tempered man (e.g. not to strike another nor to speak evil),
and similarly with regard to the other virtues and forms of wickedness,
commanding some acts and forbidding others; and the rightly-framed law
does this rightly, and the hastily conceived one less well. This form of
justice, then, is complete virtue, but not absolutely, but in relation
to our neighbour. And therefore justice is often thought to be the greatest
of virtues, and 'neither evening nor morning star' is so wonderful; and
proverbially 'in justice is every virtue comprehended'. And it is complete
virtue in its fullest sense, because it is the actual exercise of complete
virtue. It is complete because he who possesses it can exercise his virtue
not only in himself but towards his neighbour also; for many men can exercise
virtue in their own affairs, but not in their relations to their neighbour.
This is why the saying of Bias is thought to be true, that 'rule will show
the man'; for a ruler is necessarily in relation to other men and a member
of a society. For this same reason justice, alone of the virtues, is thought
to be 'another's good', because it is related to our neighbour; for it
does what is advantageous to another, either a ruler or a copartner. Now
the worst man is he who exercises his wickedness both towards himself and
towards his friends, and the best man is not he who exercises his virtue
towards himself but he who exercises it towards another; for this is a
difficult task. Justice in this sense, then, is not part of virtue but
virtue entire, nor is the contrary injustice a part of vice but vice entire.
What the difference is between virtue and justice in this sense is plain
from what we have said; they are the same but their essence is not the
same; what, as a relation to one's neighbour, is justice is, as a certain
kind of state without qualification, virtue.
2
But at all events what we are investigating is the justice which
is a part of virtue; for there is a justice of this kind, as we maintain.
Similarly it is with injustice in the particular sense that we are
concerned.
That there is such a thing is indicated by the fact that while
the man who exhibits in action the other forms of wickedness acts wrongly
indeed, but not graspingly (e.g. the man who throws away his shield through
cowardice or speaks harshly through bad temper or fails to help a friend
with money through meanness), when a man acts graspingly he often exhibits
none of these vices,-no, nor all together, but certainly wickedness of
some kind (for we blame him) and injustice. There is, then, another kind
of injustice which is a part of injustice in the wide sense, and a use
of the word 'unjust' which answers to a part of what is unjust in the wide
sense of 'contrary to the law'. Again if one man commits adultery for the
sake of gain and makes money by it, while another does so at the bidding
of appetite though he loses money and is penalized for it, the latter would
be held to be self-indulgent rather than grasping, but the former is unjust,
but not self-indulgent; evidently, therefore, he is unjust by reason of
his making gain by his act. Again, all other unjust acts are ascribed invariably
to some particular kind of wickedness, e.g. adultery to self-indulgence,
the desertion of a comrade in battle to cowardice, physical violence to
anger; but if a man makes gain, his action is ascribed to no form of wickedness
but injustice. Evidently, therefore, there is apart from injustice in the
wide sense another, 'particular', injustice which shares the name and nature
of the first, because its definition falls within the same genus; for the
significance of both consists in a relation to one's neighbour, but the
one is concerned with honour or money or safety-or that which includes
all these, if we had a single name for it-and its motive is the pleasure
that arises from gain; while the other is concerned with all the objects
with which the good man is concerned.
It is clear, then, that there is more than one kind of justice,
and that there is one which is distinct from virtue entire; we must try
to grasp its genus and differentia.
The unjust has been divided into the unlawful and the unfair, and
the just into the lawful and the fair. To the unlawful answers the afore-mentioned
sense of injustice. But since unfair and the unlawful are not the same,
but are different as a part is from its whole (for all that is unfair is
unlawful, but not all that is unlawful is unfair), the unjust and injustice
in the sense of the unfair are not the same as but different from the former
kind, as part from whole; for injustice in this sense is a part of injustice
in the wide sense, and similarly justice in the one sense of justice in
the other. Therefore we must speak also about particular justice and particular
and similarly about the just and the unjust. The justice, then, which answers
to the whole of virtue, and the corresponding injustice, one being the
exercise of virtue as a whole, and the other that of vice as a whole, towards
one's neighbour, we may leave on one side. And how the meanings of 'just'
and 'unjust' which answer to these are to be distinguished is evident;
for practically the majority of the acts commanded by the law are those
which are prescribed from the point of view of virtue taken as a whole;
for the law bids us practise every virtue and forbids us to practise any
vice. And the things that tend to produce virtue taken as a whole are those
of the acts prescribed by the law which have been prescribed with a view
to education for the common good. But with regard to the education of the
individual as such, which makes him without qualification a good man, we
must determine later whether this is the function of the political art
or of another; for perhaps it is not the same to be a good man and a good
citizen of any state taken at random.
Of particular justice and that which is just in the corresponding
sense, (A) one kind is that which is manifested in distributions of honour
or money or the other things that fall to be divided among those who have
a share in the constitution (for in these it is possible for one man to
have a share either unequal or equal to that of another), and (B) one is
that which plays a rectifying part in transactions between man and man.
Of this there are two divisions; of transactions (1) some are voluntary
and (2) others involuntary- voluntary such transactions as sale, purchase,
loan for consumption, pledging, loan for use, depositing, letting (they
are called voluntary because the origin of these transactions is voluntary),
while of the involuntary (a) some are clandestine, such as theft, adultery,
poisoning, procuring, enticement of slaves, assassination, false witness,
and (b) others are violent, such as assault, imprisonment, murder, robbery
with violence, mutilation, abuse, insult.
3
(A) We have shown that both the unjust man and the unjust act are
unfair or unequal; now it is clear that there is also an intermediate between
the two unequals involved in either case. And this is the equal; for in
any kind of action in which there's a more and a less there is also what
is equal. If, then, the unjust is unequal, just is equal, as all men suppose
it to be, even apart from argument. And since the equal is intermediate,
the just will be an intermediate. Now equality implies at least two things.
The just, then, must be both intermediate and equal and relative (i.e.
for certain persons). And since the equall intermediate it must be between
certain things (which are respectively greater and less); equal, it involves
two things; qua just, it is for certain people. The just, therefore, involves
at least four terms; for the persons for whom it is in fact just are two,
and the things in which it is manifested, the objects distributed, are
two. And the same equality will exist between the persons and between the
things concerned; for as the latter the things concerned-are related, so
are the former; if they are not equal, they will not have what is equal,
but this is the origin of quarrels and complaints-when either equals have
and are awarded unequal shares, or unequals equal shares. Further, this
is plain from the fact that awards should be 'according to merit'; for
all men agree that what is just in distribution must be according to merit
in some sense, though they do not all specify the same sort of merit, but
democrats identify it with the status of freeman, supporters of oligarchy
with wealth (or with noble birth), and supporters of aristocracy with
excellence.
The just, then, is a species of the proportionate (proportion being
not a property only of the kind of number which consists of abstract units,
but of number in general). For proportion is equality of ratios, and involves
four terms at least (that discrete proportion involves four terms is plain,
but so does continuous proportion, for it uses one term as two and mentions
it twice; e.g. 'as the line A is to the line B, so is the line B to the
line C'; the line B, then, has been mentioned twice, so that if the line
B be assumed twice, the proportional terms will be four); and the just,
too, involves at least four terms, and the ratio between one pair is the
same as that between the other pair; for there is a similar distinction
between the persons and between the things. As the term A, then, is to
B, so will C be to D, and therefore, alternando, as A is to C, B will be
to D. Therefore also the whole is in the same ratio to the whole; and this
coupling the distribution effects, and, if the terms are so combined, effects
justly. The conjunction, then, of the term A with C and of B with D is
what is just in distribution, and this species of the just is intermediate,
and the unjust is what violates the proportion; for the proportional is
intermediate, and the just is proportional. (Mathematicians call this kind
of proportion geometrical; for it is in geometrical proportion that it
follows that the whole is to the whole as either part is to the corresponding
part.) This proportion is not continuous; for we cannot get a single term
standing for a person and a thing.
This, then, is what the just is-the proportional; the unjust is
what violates the proportion. Hence one term becomes too great, the other
too small, as indeed happens in practice; for the man who acts unjustly
has too much, and the man who is unjustly treated too little, of what is
good. In the case of evil the reverse is true; for the lesser evil is reckoned
a good in comparison with the greater evil, since the lesser evil is rather
to be chosen than the greater, and what is worthy of choice is good, and
what is worthier of choice a greater good.
This, then, is one species of the just.
4
(B) The remaining one is the rectificatory, which arises in connexion
with transactions both voluntary and involuntary. This form of the just
has a different specific character from the former. For the justice which
distributes common possessions is always in accordance with the kind of
proportion mentioned above (for in the case also in which the distribution
is made from the common funds of a partnership it will be according to
the same ratio which the funds put into the business by the partners bear
to one another); and the injustice opposed to this kind of justice is that
which violates the proportion. But the justice in transactions between
man and man is a sort of equality indeed, and the injustice a sort of inequality;
not according to that kind of proportion, however, but according to arithmetical
proportion. For it makes no difference whether a good man has defrauded
a bad man or a bad man a good one, nor whether it is a good or a bad man
that has committed adultery; the law looks only to the distinctive character
of the injury, and treats the parties as equal, if one is in the wrong
and the other is being wronged, and if one inflicted injury and the other
has received it. Therefore, this kind of injustice being an inequality,
the judge tries to equalize it; for in the case also in which one has received
and the other has inflicted a wound, or one has slain and the other been
slain, the suffering and the action have been unequally distributed; but
the judge tries to equalize by means of the penalty, taking away from the
gain of the assailant. For the term 'gain' is applied generally to such
cases, even if it be not a term appropriate to certain cases, e.g. to the
person who inflicts a woundand 'loss' to the sufferer; at all events when
the suffering has been estimated, the one is called loss and the other
gain. Therefore the equal is intermediate between the greater and the less,
but the gain and the loss are respectively greater and less in contrary
ways; more of the good and less of the evil are gain, and the contrary
is loss; intermediate between them is, as we saw, equal, which we say is
just; therefore corrective justice will be the intermediate between loss
and gain. This is why, when people dispute, they take refuge in the judge;
and to go to the judge is to go to justice; for the nature of the judge
is to be a sort of animate justice; and they seek the judge as an intermediate,
and in some states they call judges mediators, on the assumption that if
they get what is intermediate they will get what is just. The just, then,
is an intermediate, since the judge is so. Now the judge restores equality;
it is as though there were a line divided into unequal parts, and he took
away that by which the greater segment exceeds the half, and added it to
the smaller segment. And when the whole has been equally divided, then
they say they have 'their own'-i.e. when they have got what is equal. The
equal is intermediate between the greater and the lesser line according
to arithmetical proportion. It is for this reason also that it is called
just (sikaion), because it is a division into two equal parts (sicha),
just as if one were to call it sichaion; and the judge (sikastes) is one
who bisects (sichastes). For when something is subtracted from one of two
equals and added to the other, the other is in excess by these two; since
if what was taken from the one had not been added to the other, the latter
would have been in excess by one only. It therefore exceeds the intermediate
by one, and the intermediate exceeds by one that from which something was
taken. By this, then, we shall recognize both what we must subtract from
that which has more, and what we must add to that which has less; we must
add to the latter that by which the intermediate exceeds it, and subtract
from the greatest that by which it exceeds the intermediate. Let the lines
AA', BB', CC' be equal to one another; from the line AA' let the segment
AE have been subtracted, and to the line CC' let the segment Cd have been
added, so that the whole line DCC' exceeds the line EA' by the segment
CD and the segment CF; therefore it exceeds the line Bb' by the segment
CD. (See diagram.)
These names, both loss and gain, have come from voluntary exchange;
for to have more than one's own is called gaining, and to have less than
one's original share is called losing, e.g. in buying and selling and in
all other matters in which the law has left people free to make their own
terms; but when they get neither more nor less but just what belongs to
themselves, they say that they have their own and that they neither lose
nor gain.
Therefore the just is intermediate between a sort of gain and a
sort of loss, viz. those which are involuntary; it consists in having an
equal amount before and after the transaction.
5
Some think that reciprocity is without qualification just, as the
Pythagoreans said; for they defined justice without qualification as reciprocity.
Now 'reciprocity' fits neither distributive nor rectificatory justice-yet
people want even the justice of Rhadamanthus to mean
this:
Should a man suffer what he did, right justice would be done -for
in many cases reciprocity and rectificatory justice are not in accord;
e.g. (1) if an official has inflicted a wound, he should not be wounded
in return, and if some one has wounded an official, he ought not to be
wounded only but punished in addition. Further (2) there is a great difference
between a voluntary and an involuntary act. But in associations for exchange
this sort of justice does hold men together-reciprocity in accordance with
a proportion and not on the basis of precisely equal return. For it is
by proportionate requital that the city holds together. Men seek to return
either evil for evil-and if they cana not do so, think their position mere
slavery-or good for good-and if they cannot do so there is no exchange,
but it is by exchange that they hold together. This is why they give a
prominent place to the temple of the Graces-to promote the requital of
services; for this is characteristic of grace-we should serve in return
one who has shown grace to us, and should another time take the initiative
in showing it.
Now proportionate return is secured by cross-conjunction. Let A
be a builder, B a shoemaker, C a house, D a shoe. The builder, then, must
get from the shoemaker the latter's work, and must himself give him in
return his own. If, then, first there is proportionate equality of goods,
and then reciprocal action takes place, the result we mention will be effected.
If not, the bargain is not equal, and does not hold; for there is nothing
to prevent the work of the one being better than that of the other; they
must therefore be equated. (And this is true of the other arts also; for
they would have been destroyed if what the patient suffered had not been
just what the agent did, and of the same amount and kind.) For it is not
two doctors that associate for exchange, but a doctor and a farmer, or
in general people who are different and unequal; but these must be equated.
This is why all things that are exchanged must be somehow comparable. It
is for this end that money has been introduced, and it becomes in a sense
an intermediate; for it measures all things, and therefore the excess and
the defect-how many shoes are equal to a house or to a given amount of
food. The number of shoes exchanged for a house (or for a given amount
of food) must therefore correspond to the ratio of builder to shoemaker.
For if this be not so, there will be no exchange and no intercourse. And
this proportion will not be effected unless the goods are somehow equal.
All goods must therefore be measured by some one thing, as we said before.
Now this unit is in truth demand, which holds all things together (for
if men did not need one another's goods at all, or did not need them equally,
there would be either no exchange or not the same exchange); but money
has become by convention a sort of representative of demand; and this is
why it has the name 'money' (nomisma)-because it exists not by nature but
by law (nomos) and it is in our power to change it and make it useless.
There will, then, be reciprocity when the terms have been equated so that
as farmer is to shoemaker, the amount of the shoemaker's work is to that
of the farmer's work for which it exchanges. But we must not bring them
into a figure of proportion when they have already exchanged (otherwise
one extreme will have both excesses), but when they still have their own
goods. Thus they are equals and associates just because this equality can
be effected in their case. Let A be a farmer, C food, B a shoemaker, D
his product equated to C. If it had not been possible for reciprocity to
be thus effected, there would have been no association of the parties.
That demand holds things together as a single unit is shown by the fact
that when men do not need one another, i.e. when neither needs the other
or one does not need the other, they do not exchange, as we do when some
one wants what one has oneself, e.g. when people permit the exportation
of corn in exchange for wine. This equation therefore must be established.
And for the future exchange-that if we do not need a thing now we shall
have it if ever we do need it-money is as it were our surety; for it must
be possible for us to get what we want by bringing the money. Now the same
thing happens to money itself as to goods-it is not always worth the same;
yet it tends to be steadier. This is why all goods must have a price set
on them; for then there will always be exchange, and if so, association
of man with man. Money, then, acting as a measure, makes goods commensurate
and equates them; for neither would there have been association if there
were not exchange, nor exchange if there were not equality, nor equality
if there were not commensurability. Now in truth it is impossible that
things differing so much should become commensurate, but with reference
to demand they may become so sufficiently. There must, then, be a unit,
and that fixed by agreement (for which reason it is called money); for
it is this that makes all things commensurate, since all things are measured
by money. Let A be a house, B ten minae, C a bed. A is half of B, if the
house is worth five minae or equal to them; the bed, C, is a tenth of B;
it is plain, then, how many beds are equal to a house, viz. five. That
exchange took place thus before there was money is plain; for it makes
no difference whether it is five beds that exchange for a house, or the
money value of five beds.
We have now defined the unjust and the just. These having been
marked off from each other, it is plain that just action is intermediate
between acting unjustly and being unjustly treated; for the one is to have
too much and the other to have too little. Justice is a kind of mean, but
not in the same way as the other virtues, but because it relates to an
intermediate amount, while injustice relates to the extremes. And justice
is that in virtue of which the just man is said to be a doer, by choice,
of that which is just, and one who will distribute either between himself
and another or between two others not so as to give more of what is desirable
to himself and less to his neighbour (and conversely with what is harmful),
but so as to give what is equal in accordance with proportion; and similarly
in distributing between two other persons. Injustice on the other hand
is similarly related to the unjust, which is excess and defect, contrary
to proportion, of the useful or hurtful. For which reason injustice is
excess and defect, viz. because it is productive of excess and defect-in
one's own case excess of what is in its own nature useful and defect of
what is hurtful, while in the case of others it is as a whole like what
it is in one's own case, but proportion may be violated in either direction.
In the unjust act to have too little is to be unjustly treated; to have
too much is to act unjustly.
Let this be taken as our account of the nature of justice and injustice,
and similarly of the just and the unjust in general.
6
Since acting unjustly does not necessarily imply being unjust,
we must ask what sort of unjust acts imply that the doer is unjust with
respect to each type of injustice, e.g. a thief, an adulterer, or a brigand.
Surely the answer does not turn on the difference between these types.
For a man might even lie with a woman knowing who she was, but the origin
of his might be not deliberate choice but passion. He acts unjustly, then,
but is not unjust; e.g. a man is not a thief, yet he stole, nor an adulterer,
yet he committed adultery; and similarly in all other
cases.
Now we have previously stated how the reciprocal is related to
the just; but we must not forget that what we are looking for is not only
what is just without qualification but also political justice. This is
found among men who share their life with a view to selfsufficiency, men
who are free and either proportionately or arithmetically equal, so that
between those who do not fulfil this condition there is no political justice
but justice in a special sense and by analogy. For justice exists only
between men whose mutual relations are governed by law; and law exists
for men between whom there is injustice; for legal justice is the discrimination
of the just and the unjust. And between men between whom there is injustice
there is also unjust action (though there is not injustice between all
between whom there is unjust action), and this is assigning too much to
oneself of things good in themselves and too little of things evil in themselves.
This is why we do not allow a man to rule, but rational principle, because
a man behaves thus in his own interests and becomes a tyrant. The magistrate
on the other hand is the guardian of justice, and, if of justice, then
of equality also. And since he is assumed to have no more than his share,
if he is just (for he does not assign to himself more of what is good in
itself, unless such a share is proportional to his merits-so that it is
for others that he labours, and it is for this reason that men, as we stated
previously, say that justice is 'another's good'), therefore a reward must
be given him, and this is honour and privilege; but those for whom such
things are not enough become tyrants.
The justice of a master and that of a father are not the same as
the justice of citizens, though they are like it; for there can be no injustice
in the unqualified sense towards thing that are one's own, but a man's
chattel, and his child until it reaches a certain age and sets up for itself,
are as it were part of himself, and no one chooses to hurt himself (for
which reason there can be no injustice towards oneself). Therefore the
justice or injustice of citizens is not manifested in these relations;
for it was as we saw according to law, and between people naturally subject
to law, and these as we saw' are people who have an equal share in ruling
and being ruled. Hence justice can more truly be manifested towards a wife
than towards children and chattels, for the former is household justice;
but even this is different from political justice.
7
Of political justice part is natural, part legal, natural, that
which everywhere has the same force and does not exist by people's thinking
this or that; legal, that which is originally indifferent, but when it
has been laid down is not indifferent, e.g. that a prisoner's ransom shall
be a mina, or that a goat and not two sheep shall be sacrificed, and again
all the laws that are passed for particular cases, e.g. that sacrifice
shall be made in honour of Brasidas, and the provisions of decrees. Now
some think that all justice is of this sort, because that which is by nature
is unchangeable and has everywhere the same force (as fire burns both here
and in Persia), while they see change in the things recognized as just.
This, however, is not true in this unqualified way, but is true in a sense;
or rather, with the gods it is perhaps not true at all, while with us there
is something that is just even by nature, yet all of it is changeable;
but still some is by nature, some not by nature. It is evident which sort
of thing, among things capable of being otherwise, is by nature, and which
is not but is legal and conventional, assuming that both are equally changeable.
And in all other things the same distinction will apply; by nature the
right hand is stronger, yet it is possible that all men should come to
be ambidextrous. The things which are just by virtue of convention and
expediency are like measures; for wine and corn measures are not everywhere
equal, but larger in wholesale and smaller in retail markets. Similarly,
the things which are just not by nature but by human enactment are not
everywhere the same, since constitutions also are not the same, though
there is but one which is everywhere by nature the best. Of things just
and lawful each is related as the universal to its particulars; for the
things that are done are many, but of them each is one, since it is
universal.
There is a difference between the act of injustice and what is
unjust, and between the act of justice and what is just; for a thing is
unjust by nature or by enactment; and this very thing, when it has been
done, is an act of injustice, but before it is done is not yet that but
is unjust. So, too, with an act of justice (though the general term is
rather 'just action', and 'act of justice' is applied to the correction
of the act of injustice).
Each of these must later be examined separately with regard to
the nature and number of its species and the nature of the things with
which it is concerned.
8
Acts just and unjust being as we have described them, a man acts
unjustly or justly whenever he does such acts voluntarily; when involuntarily,
he acts neither unjustly nor justly except in an incidental way; for he
does things which happen to be just or unjust. Whether an act is or is
not one of injustice (or of justice) is determined by its voluntariness
or involuntariness; for when it is voluntary it is blamed, and at the same
time is then an act of injustice; so that there will be things that are
unjust but not yet acts of injustice, if voluntariness be not present as
well. By the voluntary I mean, as has been said before, any of the things
in a man's own power which he does with knowledge, i.e. not in ignorance
either of the person acted on or of the instrument used or of the end that
will be attained (e.g. whom he is striking, with what, and to what end),
each such act being done not incidentally nor under compulsion (e.g. if
A takes B's hand and therewith strikes C, B does not act voluntarily; for
the act was not in his own power). The person struck may be the striker's
father, and the striker may know that it is a man or one of the persons
present, but not know that it is his father; a similar distinction may
be made in the case of the end, and with regard to the whole action. Therefore
that which is done in ignorance, or though not done in ignorance is not
in the agent's power, or is done under compulsion, is involuntary (for
many natural processes, even, we knowingly both perform and experience,
none of which is either voluntary or involuntary; e.g. growing old or dying).
But in the case of unjust and just acts alike the injustice or justice
may be only incidental; for a man might return a deposit unwillingly and
from fear, and then he must not be said either to do what is just or to
act justly, except in an incidental way. Similarly the man who under compulsion
and unwillingly fails to return the deposit must be said to act unjustly,
and to do what is unjust, only incidentally. Of voluntary acts we do some
by choice, others not by choice; by choice those which we do after deliberation,
not by choice those which we do without previous deliberation. Thus there
are three kinds of injury in transactions between man and man; those done
in ignorance are mistakes when the person acted on, the act, the instrument,
or the end that will be attained is other than the agent supposed; the
agent thought either that he was not hiting any one or that he was not
hitting with this missile or not hitting this person or to this end, but
a result followed other than that which he thought likely (e.g. he threw
not with intent to wound but only to prick), or the person hit or the missile
was other than he supposed. Now when (1) the injury takes place contrary
to reasonable expectation, it is a misadventure. When (2) it is not contrary
to reasonable expectation, but does not imply vice, it is a mistake (for
a man makes a mistake when the fault originates in him, but is the victim
of accident when the origin lies outside him). When (3) he acts with knowledge
but not after deliberation, it is an act of injustice-e.g. the acts due
to anger or to other passions necessary or natural to man; for when men
do such harmful and mistaken acts they act unjustly, and the acts are acts
of injustice, but this does not imply that the doers are unjust or wicked;
for the injury is not due to vice. But when (4) a man acts from choice,
he is an unjust man and a vicious man.
Hence acts proceeding from anger are rightly judged not to be done
of malice aforethought; for it is not the man who acts in anger but he
who enraged him that starts the mischief. Again, the matter in dispute
is not whether the thing happened or not, but its justice; for it is apparent
injustice that occasions rage. For they do not dispute about the occurrence
of the act-as in commercial transactions where one of the two parties must
be vicious-unless they do so owing to forgetfulness; but, agreeing about
the fact, they dispute on which side justice lies (whereas a man who has
deliberately injured another cannot help knowing that he has done so),
so that the one thinks he is being treated unjustly and the other
disagrees.
But if a man harms another by choice, he acts unjustly; and these
are the acts of injustice which imply that the doer is an unjust man, provided
that the act violates proportion or equality. Similarly, a man is just
when he acts justly by choice; but he acts justly if he merely acts
voluntarily.
Of involuntary acts some are excusable, others not. For the mistakes
which men make not only in ignorance but also from ignorance are excusable,
while those which men do not from ignorance but (though they do them in
ignorance) owing to a passion which is neither natural nor such as man
is liable to, are not excusable.
9
Assuming that we have sufficiently defined the suffering and doing
of injustice, it may be asked (1) whether the truth in expressed in Euripides'
paradoxical words:
I slew my mother, that's my tale in brief.
Were you both willing, or unwilling both?
Is it truly possible to be willingly treated unjustly, or is all
suffering of injustice the contrary involuntary, as all unjust action is
voluntary? And is all suffering of injustice of the latter kind or else
all of the former, or is it sometimes voluntary, sometimes involuntary?
So, too, with the case of being justly treated; all just action is voluntary,
so that it is reasonable that there should be a similar opposition in either
case-that both being unjustly and being justly treated should be either
alike voluntary or alike involuntary. But it would be thought paradoxical
even in the case of being justly treated, if it were always voluntary;
for some are unwillingly treated justly. (2) One might raise this question
also, whether every one who has suffered what is unjust is being unjustly
treated, or on the other hand it is with suffering as with acting. In action
and in passivity alike it is possible to partake of justice incidentally,
and similarly (it is plain) of injustice; for to do what is unjust is not
the same as to act unjustly, nor to suffer what is unjust as to be treated
unjustly, and similarly in the case of acting justly and being justly treated;
for it is impossible to be unjustly treated if the other does not act unjustly,
or justly treated unless he acts justly. Now if to act unjustly is simply
to harm some one voluntarily, and 'voluntarily' means 'knowing the person
acted on, the instrument, and the manner of one's acting', and the incontinent
man voluntarily harms himself, not only will he voluntarily be unjustly
treated but it will be possible to treat oneself unjustly. (This also is
one of the questions in doubt, whether a man can treat himself unjustly.)
Again, a man may voluntarily, owing to incontinence, be harmed by another
who acts voluntarily, so that it would be possible to be voluntarily treated
unjustly. Or is our definition incorrect; must we to 'harming another,
with knowledge both of the person acted on, of the instrument, and of the
manner' add 'contrary to the wish of the person acted on'? Then a man may
be voluntarily harmed and voluntarily suffer what is unjust, but no one
is voluntarily treated unjustly; for no one wishes to be unjustly treated,
not even the incontinent man. He acts contrary to his wish; for no one
wishes for what he does not think to be good, but the incontinent man does
do things that he does not think he ought to do. Again, one who gives what
is his own, as Homer says Glaucus gave Diomede
Armour of gold for brazen, the price of a hundred beeves for nine,
is not unjustly treated; for though to give is in his power, to be unjustly
treated is not, but there must be some one to treat him unjustly. It is
plain, then, that being unjustly treated is not voluntary.
Of the questions we intended to discuss two still remain for discussion;
(3) whether it is the man who has assigned to another more than his share
that acts unjustly, or he who has the excessive share, and (4) whether
it is possible to treat oneself unjustly. The questions are connected;
for if the former alternative is possible and the distributor acts unjustly
and not the man who has the excessive share, then if a man assigns more
to another than to himself, knowingly and voluntarily, he treats himself
unjustly; which is what modest people seem to do, since the virtuous man
tends to take less than his share. Or does this statement too need qualification?
For (a) he perhaps gets more than his share of some other good, e.g. of
honour or of intrinsic nobility. (b) The question is solved by applying
the distinction we applied to unjust action; for he suffers nothing contrary
to his own wish, so that he is not unjustly treated as far as this goes,
but at most only suffers harm.
It is plain too that the distributor acts unjustly, but not always
the man who has the excessive share; for it is not he to whom what is unjust
appertains that acts unjustly, but he to whom it appertains to do the unjust
act voluntarily, i.e. the person in whom lies the origin of the action,
and this lies in the distributor, not in the receiver. Again, since the
word 'do' is ambiguous, and there is a sense in which lifeless things,
or a hand, or a servant who obeys an order, may be said to slay, he who
gets an excessive share does not act unjustly, though he 'does' what is
unjust.
Again, if the distributor gave his judgement in ignorance, he does
not act unjustly in respect of legal justice, and his judgement is not
unjust in this sense, but in a sense it is unjust (for legal justice and
primordial justice are different); but if with knowledge he judged unjustly,
he is himself aiming at an excessive share either of gratitude or of revenge.
As much, then, as if he were to share in the plunder, the man who has judged
unjustly for these reasons has got too much; the fact that what he gets
is different from what he distributes makes no difference, for even if
he awards land with a view to sharing in the plunder he gets not land but
money.
Men think that acting unjustly is in their power, and therefore
that being just is easy. But it is not; to lie with one's neighbour's wife,
to wound another, to deliver a bribe, is easy and in our power, but to
do these things as a result of a certain state of character is neither
easy nor in our power. Similarly to know what is just and what is unjust
requires, men think, no great wisdom, because it is not hard to understand
the matters dealt with by the laws (though these are not the things that
are just, except incidentally); but how actions must be done and distributions
effected in order to be just, to know this is a greater achievement than
knowing what is good for the health; though even there, while it is easy
to know that honey, wine, hellebore, cautery, and the use of the knife
are so, to know how, to whom, and when these should be applied with a view
to producing health, is no less an achievement than that of being a physician.
Again, for this very reason men think that acting unjustly is characteristic
of the just man no less than of the unjust, because he would be not less
but even more capable of doing each of these unjust acts; for he could
lie with a woman or wound a neighbour; and the brave man could throw away
his shield and turn to flight in this direction or in that. But to play
the coward or to act unjustly consists not in doing these things, except
incidentally, but in doing them as the result of a certain state of character,
just as to practise medicine and healing consists not in applying or not
applying the knife, in using or not using medicines, but in doing so in
a certain way.
Just acts occur between people who participate in things good in
themselves and can have too much or too little of them; for some beings
(e.g. presumably the gods) cannot have too much of them, and to others,
those who are incurably bad, not even the smallest share in them is beneficial
but all such goods are harmful, while to others they are beneficial up
to a point; therefore justice is essentially something
human.
10
Our next subject is equity and the equitable (to epiekes), and their
respective relations to justice and the just. For on examination they appear
to be neither absolutely the same nor generically different; and while
we sometime praise what is equitable and the equitable man (so that we
apply the name by way of praise even to instances of the other virtues,
instead of 'good' meaning by epieikestebon that a thing is better), at
other times, when we reason it out, it seems strange if the equitable,
being something different from the just, is yet praiseworthy; for either
the just or the equitable is not good, if they are different; or, if both
are good, they are the same.
These, then, are pretty much the considerations that give rise
to the problem about the equitable; they are all in a sense correct and
not opposed to one another; for the equitable, though it is better than
one kind of justice, yet is just, and it is not as being a different class
of thing that it is better than the just. The same thing, then, is just
and equitable, and while both are good the equitable is superior. What
creates the problem is that the equitable is just, but not the legally
just but a correction of legal justice. The reason is that all law is universal
but about some things it is not possible to make a universal statement
which shall be correct. In those cases, then, in which it is necessary
to speak universally, but not possible to do so correctly, the law takes
the usual case, though it is not ignorant of the possibility of error.
And it is none the less correct; for the error is in the law nor in the
legislator but in the nature of the thing, since the matter of practical
affairs is of this kind from the start. When the law speaks universally,
then, and a case arises on it which is not covered by the universal statement,
then it is right, where the legislator fails us and has erred by oversimplicity,
to correct the omission-to say what the legislator himself would have said
had he been present, and would have put into his law if he had known. Hence
the equitable is just, and better than one kind of justice-not better than
absolute justice but better than the error that arises from the absoluteness
of the statement. And this is the nature of the equitable, a correction
of law where it is defective owing to its universality. In fact this is
the reason why all things are not determined by law, that about some things
it is impossible to lay down a law, so that a decree is needed. For when
the thing is indefinite the rule also is indefinite, like the leaden rule
used in making the Lesbian moulding; the rule adapts itself to the shape
of the stone and is not rigid, and so too the decree is adapted to the
facts.
It is plain, then, what the equitable is, and that it is just and
is better than one kind of justice. It is evident also from this who the
equitable man is; the man who chooses and does such acts, and is no stickler
for his rights in a bad sense but tends to take less than his share though
he has the law oft his side, is equitable, and this state of character
is equity, which is a sort of justice and not a different state of
character.
11
Whether a man can treat himself unjustly or not, is evident from
what has been said. For (a) one class of just acts are those acts in accordance
with any virtue which are prescribed by the law; e.g. the law does not
expressly permit suicide, and what it does not expressly permit it forbids.
Again, when a man in violation of the law harms another (otherwise than
in retaliation) voluntarily, he acts unjustly, and a voluntary agent is
one who knows both the person he is affecting by his action and the instrument
he is using; and he who through anger voluntarily stabs himself does this
contrary to the right rule of life, and this the law does not allow; therefore
he is acting unjustly. But towards whom? Surely towards the state, not
towards himself. For he suffers voluntarily, but no one is voluntarily
treated unjustly. This is also the reason why the state punishes; a certain
loss of civil rights attaches to the man who destroys himself, on the ground
that he is treating the state unjustly.
Further (b) in that sense of 'acting unjustly' in which the man
who 'acts unjustly' is unjust only and not bad all round, it is not possible
to treat oneself unjustly (this is different from the former sense; the
unjust man in one sense of the term is wicked in a particularized way just
as the coward is, not in the sense of being wicked all round, so that his
'unjust act' does not manifest wickedness in general). For (i) that would
imply the possibility of the same thing's having been subtracted from and
added to the same thing at the same time; but this is impossible-the just
and the unjust always involve more than one person. Further, (ii) unjust
action is voluntary and done by choice, and takes the initiative (for the
man who because he has suffered does the same in return is not thought
to act unjustly); but if a man harms himself he suffers and does the same
things at the same time. Further, (iii) if a man could treat himself unjustly,
he could be voluntarily treated unjustly. Besides, (iv) no one acts unjustly
without committing particular acts of injustice; but no one can commit
adultery with his own wife or housebreaking on his own house or theft on
his own property,
In general, the question 'can a man treat himself unjustly?' is
solved also by the distinction we applied to the question 'can a man be
voluntarily treated unjustly?'
(It is evident too that both are bad, being unjustly treated and
acting unjustly; for the one means having less and the other having more
than the intermediate amount, which plays the part here that the healthy
does in the medical art, and that good condition does in the art of bodily
training. But still acting unjustly is the worse, for it involves vice
and is blameworthy-involves vice which is either of the complete and unqualified
kind or almost so (we must admit the latter alternative, because not all
voluntary unjust action implies injustice as a state of character), while
being unjustly treated does not involve vice and injustice in oneself.
In itself, then, being unjustly treated is less bad, but there is nothing
to prevent its being incidentally a greater evil. But theory cares nothing
for this; it calls pleurisy a more serious mischief than a stumble; yet
the latter may become incidentally the more serious, if the fall due to
it leads to your being taken prisoner or put to death the
enemy.)
Metaphorically and in virtue of a certain resemblance there is
a justice, not indeed between a man and himself, but between certain parts
of him; yet not every kind of justice but that of master and servant or
that of husband and wife. For these are the ratios in which the part of
the soul that has a rational principle stands to the irrational part; and
it is with a view to these parts that people also think a man can be unjust
to himself, viz. because these parts are liable to suffer something contrary
to their respective desires; there is therefore thought to be a mutual
justice between them as between ruler and ruled.
Let this be taken as our account of justice and the other, i.e.
the other moral, virtues.
Nicomachean Ethics
By Aristotle
Book VI
1
Since we have previously said that one ought to choose that which
is intermediate, not the excess nor the defect, and that the intermediate
is determined by the dictates of the right rule, let us discuss the nature
of these dictates. In all the states of character we have mentioned, as
in all other matters, there is a mark to which the man who has the rule
looks, and heightens or relaxes his activity accordingly, and there is
a standard which determines the mean states which we say are intermediate
between excess and defect, being in accordance with the right rule. But
such a statement, though true, is by no means clear; for not only here
but in all other pursuits which are objects of knowledge it is indeed true
to say that we must not exert ourselves nor relax our efforts too much
nor too little, but to an intermediate extent and as the right rule dictates;
but if a man had only this knowledge he would be none the wiser e.g. we
should not know what sort of medicines to apply to our body if some one
were to say 'all those which the medical art prescribes, and which agree
with the practice of one who possesses the art'. Hence it is necessary
with regard to the states of the soul also not only that this true statement
should be made, but also that it should be determined what is the right
rule and what is the standard that fixes it.
We divided the virtues of the soul and a said that some are virtues
of character and others of intellect. Now we have discussed in detail the
moral virtues; with regard to the others let us express our view as follows,
beginning with some remarks about the soul. We said before that there are
two parts of the soul-that which grasps a rule or rational principle, and
the irrational; let us now draw a similar distinction within the part which
grasps a rational principle. And let it be assumed that there are two parts
which grasp a rational principle-one by which we contemplate the kind of
things whose originative causes are invariable, and one by which we contemplate
variable things; for where objects differ in kind the part of the soul
answering to each of the two is different in kind, since it is in virtue
of a certain likeness and kinship with their objects that they have the
knowledge they have. Let one of these parts be called the scientific and
the other the calculative; for to deliberate and to calculate are the same
thing, but no one deliberates about the invariable. Therefore the calculative
is one part of the faculty which grasps a rational principle. We must,
then, learn what is the best state of each of these two parts; for this
is the virtue of each.
2
The virtue of a thing is relative to its proper work. Now there
are three things in the soul which control action and truth-sensation,
reason, desire.
Of these sensation originates no action; this is plain from the
fact that the lower animals have sensation but no share in
action.
What affirmation and negation are in thinking, pursuit and avoidance
are in desire; so that since moral virtue is a state of character concerned
with choice, and choice is deliberate desire, therefore both the reasoning
must be true and the desire right, if the choice is to be good, and the
latter must pursue just what the former asserts. Now this kind of intellect
and of truth is practical; of the intellect which is contemplative, not
practical nor productive, the good and the bad state are truth and falsity
respectively (for this is the work of everything intellectual); while of
the part which is practical and intellectual the good state is truth in
agreement with right desire.
The origin of action-its efficient, not its final cause-is choice,
and that of choice is desire and reasoning with a view to an end. This
is why choice cannot exist either without reason and intellect or without
a moral state; for good action and its opposite cannot exist without a
combination of intellect and character. Intellect itself, however, moves
nothing, but only the intellect which aims at an end and is practical;
for this rules the productive intellect, as well, since every one who makes
makes for an end, and that which is made is not an end in the unqualified
sense (but only an end in a particular relation, and the end of a particular
operation)-only that which is done is that; for good action is an end,
and desire aims at this. Hence choice is either desiderative reason or
ratiocinative desire, and such an origin of action is a man. (It is to
be noted that nothing that is past is an object of choice, e.g. no one
chooses to have sacked Troy; for no one deliberates about the past, but
about what is future and capable of being otherwise, while what is past
is not capable of not having taken place; hence Agathon is right in
saying
For this alone is lacking even to God,
To make undone things thathave once been done.)
The work of both the intellectual parts, then, is truth. Therefore
the states that are most strictly those in respect of which each of these
parts will reach truth are the virtues of the two parts.
3
Let us begin, then, from the beginning, and discuss these states
once more. Let it be assumed that the states by virtue of which the soul
possesses truth by way of affirmation or denial are five in number, i.e.
art, scientific knowledge, practical wisdom, philosophic wisdom, intuitive
reason; we do not include judgement and opinion because in these we may
be mistaken.
Now what scientific knowledge is, if we are to speak exactly and
not follow mere similarities, is plain from what follows. We all suppose
that what we know is not even capable of being otherwise; of things capable
of being otherwise we do not know, when they have passed outside our observation,
whether they exist or not. Therefore the object of scientific knowledge
is of necessity. Therefore it is eternal; for things that are of necessity
in the unqualified sense are all eternal; and things that are eternal are
ungenerated and imperishable. Again, every science is thought to be capable
of being taught, and its object of being learned. And all teaching starts
from what is already known, as we maintain in the Analytics also; for it
proceeds sometimes through induction and sometimes by syllogism. Now induction
is the starting-point which knowledge even of the universal presupposes,
while syllogism proceeds from universals. There are therefore starting-points
from which syllogism proceeds, which are not reached by syllogism; it is
therefore by induction that they are acquired. Scientific knowledge is,
then, a state of capacity to demonstrate, and has the other limiting characteristics
which we specify in the Analytics, for it is when a man believes in a certain
way and the starting-points are known to him that he has scientific knowledge,
since if they are not better known to him than the conclusion, he will
have his knowledge only incidentally.
Let this, then, be taken as our account of scientific
knowledge.
4
In the variable are included both things made and things done;
making and acting are different (for their nature we treat even the discussions
outside our school as reliable); so that the reasoned state of capacity
to act is different from the reasoned state of capacity to make. Hence
too they are not included one in the other; for neither is acting making
nor is making acting. Now since architecture is an art and is essentially
a reasoned state of capacity to make, and there is neither any art that
is not such a state nor any such state that is not an art, art is identical
with a state of capacity to make, involving a true course of reasoning.
All art is concerned with coming into being, i.e. with contriving and considering
how something may come into being which is capable of either being or not
being, and whose origin is in the maker and not in the thing made; for
art is concerned neither with things that are, or come into being, by necessity,
nor with things that do so in accordance with nature (since these have
their origin in themselves). Making and acting being different, art must
be a matter of making, not of acting. And in a sense chance and art are
concerned with the same objects; as Agathon says, 'art loves chance and
chance loves art'. Art, then, as has been is a state concerned with making,
involving a true course of reasoning, and lack of art on the contrary is
a state concerned with making, involving a false course of reasoning; both
are concerned with the variable.
5
Regarding practical wisdom we shall get at the truth by considering
who are the persons we credit with it. Now it is thought to be the mark
of a man of practical wisdom to be able to deliberate well about what is
good and expedient for himself, not in some particular respect, e.g. about
what sorts of thing conduce to health or to strength, but about what sorts
of thing conduce to the good life in general. This is shown by the fact
that we credit men with practical wisdom in some particular respect when
they have calculated well with a view to some good end which is one of
those that are not the object of any art. It follows that in the general
sense also the man who is capable of deliberating has practical wisdom.
Now no one deliberates about things that are invariable, nor about things
that it is impossible for him to do. Therefore, since scientific knowledge
involves demonstration, but there is no demonstration of things whose first
principles are variable (for all such things might actually be otherwise),
and since it is impossible to deliberate about things that are of necessity,
practical wisdom cannot be scientific knowledge nor art; not science because
that which can be done is capable of being otherwise, not art because action
and making are different kinds of thing. The remaining alternative, then,
is that it is a true and reasoned state of capacity to act with regard
to the things that are good or bad for man. For while making has an end
other than itself, action cannot; for good action itself is its end. It
is for this reason that we think Pericles and men like him have practical
wisdom, viz. because they can see what is good for themselves and what
is good for men in general; we consider that those can do this who are
good at managing households or states. (This is why we call temperance
(sophrosune) by this name; we imply that it preserves one's practical wisdom
(sozousa tan phronsin). Now what it preserves is a judgement of the kind
we have described. For it is not any and every judgement that pleasant
and painful objects destroy and pervert, e.g. the judgement that the triangle
has or has not its angles equal to two right angles, but only judgements
about what is to be done. For the originating causes of the things that
are done consist in the end at which they are aimed; but the man who has
been ruined by pleasure or pain forthwith fails to see any such originating
cause-to see that for the sake of this or because of this he ought to choose
and do whatever he chooses and does; for vice is destructive of the originating
cause of action.) Practical wisdom, then, must be a reasoned and true state
of capacity to act with regard to human goods. But further, while there
is such a thing as excellence in art, there is no such thing as excellence
in practical wisdom; and in art he who errs willingly is preferable, but
in practical wisdom, as in the virtues, he is the reverse. Plainly, then,
practical wisdom is a virtue and not an art. There being two parts of the
soul that can follow a course of reasoning, it must be the virtue of one
of the two, i.e. of that part which forms opinions; for opinion is about
the variable and so is practical wisdom. But yet it is not only a reasoned
state; this is shown by the fact that a state of that sort may forgotten
but practical wisdom cannot.
6
Scientific knowledge is judgement about things that are universal
and necessary, and the conclusions of demonstration, and all scientific
knowledge, follow from first principles (for scientific knowledge involves
apprehension of a rational ground). This being so, the first principle
from which what is scientifically known follows cannot be an object of
scientific knowledge, of art, or of practical wisdom; for that which can
be scientifically known can be demonstrated, and art and practical wisdom
deal with things that are variable. Nor are these first principles the
objects of philosophic wisdom, for it is a mark of the philosopher to have
demonstration about some things. If, then, the states of mind by which
we have truth and are never deceived about things invariable or even variable
are scientific knowlededge, practical wisdom, philosophic wisdom, and intuitive
reason, and it cannot be any of the three (i.e. practical wisdom, scientific
knowledge, or philosophic wisdom), the remaining alternative is that it
is intuitive reason that grasps the first principles.
7
Wisdom (1) in the arts we ascribe to their most finished exponents,
e.g. to Phidias as a sculptor and to Polyclitus as a maker of portrait-statues,
and here we mean nothing by wisdom except excellence in art; but (2) we
think that some people are wise in general, not in some particular field
or in any other limited respect, as Homer says in the
Margites,
Him did the gods make neither a digger nor yet a
ploughman
Nor wise in anything else. Therefore wisdom must plainly be the most
finished of the forms of knowledge. It follows that the wise man must not
only know what follows from the first principles, but must also possess
truth about the first principles. Therefore wisdom must be intuitive reason
combined with scientific knowledge-scientific knowledge of the highest
objects which has received as it were its proper completion.
Of the highest objects, we say; for it would be strange to think
that the art of politics, or practical wisdom, is the best knowledge, since
man is not the best thing in the world. Now if what is healthy or good
is different for men and for fishes, but what is white or straight is always
the same, any one would say that what is wise is the same but what is practically
wise is different; for it is to that which observes well the various matters
concerning itself that one ascribes practical wisdom, and it is to this
that one will entrust such matters. This is why we say that some even of
the lower animals have practical wisdom, viz. those which are found to
have a power of foresight with regard to their own life. It is evident
also that philosophic wisdom and the art of politics cannot be the same;
for if the state of mind concerned with a man's own interests is to be
called philosophic wisdom, there will be many philosophic wisdoms; there
will not be one concerned with the good of all animals (any more than there
is one art of medicine for all existing things), but a different philosophic
wisdom about the good of each species.
But if the argument be that man is the best of the animals, this
makes no difference; for there are other things much more divine in their
nature even than man, e.g., most conspicuously, the bodies of which the
heavens are framed. From what has been said it is plain, then, that philosophic
wisdom is scientific knowledge, combined with intuitive reason, of the
things that are highest by nature. This is why we say Anaxagoras, Thales,
and men like them have philosophic but not practical wisdom, when we see
them ignorant of what is to their own advantage, and why we say that they
know things that are remarkable, admirable, difficult, and divine, but
useless; viz. because it is not human goods that they
seek.
Practical wisdom on the other hand is concerned with things human
and things about which it is possible to deliberate; for we say this is
above all the work of the man of practical wisdom, to deliberate well,
but no one deliberates about things invariable, nor about things which
have not an end, and that a good that can be brought about by action. The
man who is without qualification good at deliberating is the man who is
capable of aiming in accordance with calculation at the best for man of
things attainable by action. Nor is practical wisdom concerned with universals
only-it must also recognize the particulars; for it is practical, and practice
is concerned with particulars. This is why some who do not know, and especially
those who have experience, are more practical than others who know; for
if a man knew that light meats are digestible and wholesome, but did not
know which sorts of meat are light, he would not produce health, but the
man who knows that chicken is wholesome is more likely to produce
health.
Now practical wisdom is concerned with action; therefore one should
have both forms of it, or the latter in preference to the former. But of
practical as of philosophic wisdom there must be a controlling
kind.
8
Political wisdom and practical wisdom are the same state of mind,
but their essence is not the same. Of the wisdom concerned with the city,
the practical wisdom which plays a controlling part is legislative wisdom,
while that which is related to this as particulars to their universal is
known by the general name 'political wisdom'; this has to do with action
and deliberation, for a decree is a thing to be carried out in the form
of an individual act. This is why the exponents of this art are alone said
to 'take part in politics'; for these alone 'do things' as manual labourers
'do things'.
Practical wisdom also is identified especially with that form of
it which is concerned with a man himself-with the individual; and this
is known by the general name 'practical wisdom'; of the other kinds one
is called household management, another legislation, the third politics,
and of the latter one part is called deliberative and the other judicial.
Now knowing what is good for oneself will be one kind of knowledge, but
it is very different from the other kinds; and the man who knows and concerns
himself with his own interests is thought to have practical wisdom, while
politicians are thought to be busybodies; hence the word of
Euripides,
But how could I be wise, who might at ease,
Numbered among the army's multitude,
Have had an equal share?
For those who aim too high and do too much. Those who think thus seek
their own good, and consider that one ought to do so. From this opinion,
then, has come the view that such men have practical wisdom; yet perhaps
one's own good cannot exist without household management, nor without a
form of government. Further, how one should order one's own affairs is
not clear and needs inquiry.
What has been said is confirmed by the fact that while young men
become geometricians and mathematicians and wise in matters like these,
it is thought that a young man of practical wisdom cannot be found. The
cause is that such wisdom is concerned not only with universals but with
particulars, which become familiar from experience, but a young man has
no experience, for it is length of time that gives experience; indeed one
might ask this question too, why a boy may become a mathematician, but
not a philosopher or a physicist. It is because the objects of mathematics
exist by abstraction, while the first principles of these other subjects
come from experience, and because young men have no conviction about the
latter but merely use the proper language, while the essence of mathematical
objects is plain enough to them?
Further, error in deliberation may be either about the universal
or about the particular; we may fall to know either that all water that
weighs heavy is bad, or that this particular water weighs
heavy.
That practical wisdom is not scientific knowledge is evident; for
it is, as has been said, concerned with the ultimate particular fact, since
the thing to be done is of this nature. It is opposed, then, to intuitive
reason; for intuitive reason is of the limiting premisses, for which no
reason can be given, while practical wisdom is concerned with the ultimate
particular, which is the object not of scientific knowledge but of perception-not
the perception of qualities peculiar to one sense but a perception akin
to that by which we perceive that the particular figure before us is a
triangle; for in that direction as well as in that of the major premiss
there will be a limit. But this is rather perception than practical wisdom,
though it is another kind of perception than that of the qualities peculiar
to each sense.
9
There is a difference between inquiry and deliberation; for deliberation
is inquiry into a particular kind of thing. We must grasp the nature of
excellence in deliberation as well whether it is a form of scientific knowledge,
or opinion, or skill in conjecture, or some other kind of thing. Scientific
knowledge it is not; for men do not inquire about the things they know
about, but good deliberation is a kind of deliberation, and he who deliberates
inquires and calculates. Nor is it skill in conjecture; for this both involves
no reasoning and is something that is quick in its operation, while men
deliberate a long time, and they say that one should carry out quickly
the conclusions of one's deliberation, but should deliberate slowly. Again,
readiness of mind is different from excellence in deliberation; it is a
sort of skill in conjecture. Nor again is excellence in deliberation opinion
of any sort. But since the man who deliberates badly makes a mistake, while
he who deliberates well does so correctly, excellence in deliberation is
clearly a kind of correctness, but neither of knowledge nor of opinion;
for there is no such thing as correctness of knowledge (since there is
no such thing as error of knowledge), and correctness of opinion is truth;
and at the same time everything that is an object of opinion is already
determined. But again excellence in deliberation involves reasoning. The
remaining alternative, then, is that it is correctness of thinking; for
this is not yet assertion, since, while even opinion is not inquiry but
has reached the stage of assertion, the man who is deliberating, whether
he does so well or ill, is searching for something and
calculating.
But excellence in deliberation is a certain correctness of deliberation;
hence we must first inquire what deliberation is and what it is about.
And, there being more than one kind of correctness, plainly excellence
in deliberation is not any and every kind; for (1) the incontinent man
and the bad man, if he is clever, will reach as a result of his calculation
what he sets before himself, so that he will have deliberated correctly,
but he will have got for himself a great evil. Now to have deliberated
well is thought to be a good thing; for it is this kind of correctness
of deliberation that is excellence in deliberation, viz. that which tends
to attain what is good. But (2) it is possible to attain even good by a
false syllogism, and to attain what one ought to do but not by the right
means, the middle term being false; so that this too is not yet excellence
in deliberation this state in virtue of which one attains what one ought
but not by the right means. Again (3) it is possible to attain it by long
deliberation while another man attains it quickly. Therefore in the former
case we have not yet got excellence in deliberation, which is rightness
with regard to the expedient-rightness in respect both of the end, the
manner, and the time. (4) Further it is possible to have deliberated well
either in the unqualified sense or with reference to a particular end.
Excellence in deliberation in the unqualified sense, then, is that which
succeeds with reference to what is the end in the unqualified sense, and
excellence in deliberation in a particular sense is that which succeeds
relatively to a particular end. If, then, it is characteristic of men of
practical wisdom to have deliberated well, excellence in deliberation will
be correctness with regard to what conduces to the end of which practical
wisdom is the true apprehension.
10
Understanding, also, and goodness of understanding, in virtue of
which men are said to be men of understanding or of good understanding,
are neither entirely the same as opinion or scientific knowledge (for at
that rate all men would have been men of understanding), nor are they one
of the particular sciences, such as medicine, the science of things connected
with health, or geometry, the science of spatial magnitudes. For understanding
is neither about things that are always and are unchangeable, nor about
any and every one of the things that come into being, but about things
which may become subjects of questioning and deliberation. Hence it is
about the same objects as practical wisdom; but understanding and practical
wisdom are not the same. For practical wisdom issues commands, since its
end is what ought to be done or not to be done; but understanding only
judges. (Understanding is identical with goodness of understanding, men
of understanding with men of good understanding.) Now understanding is
neither the having nor the acquiring of practical wisdom; but as learning
is called understanding when it means the exercise of the faculty of knowledge,
so 'understanding' is applicable to the exercise of the faculty of opinion
for the purpose of judging of what some one else says about matters with
which practical wisdom is concerned-and of judging soundly; for 'well'
and 'soundly' are the same thing. And from this has come the use of the
name 'understanding' in virtue of which men are said to be 'of good understanding',
viz. from the application of the word to the grasping of scientific truth;
for we often call such grasping understanding.
11
What is called judgement, in virtue of which men are said to 'be
sympathetic judges' and to 'have judgement', is the right discrimination
of the equitable. This is shown by the fact that we say the equitable man
is above all others a man of sympathetic judgement, and identify equity
with sympathetic judgement about certain facts. And sympathetic judgement
is judgement which discriminates what is equitable and does so correctly;
and correct judgement is that which judges what is true.
Now all the states we have considered converge, as might be expected,
to the same point; for when we speak of judgement and understanding and
practical wisdom and intuitive reason we credit the same people with possessing
judgement and having reached years of reason and with having practical
wisdom and understanding. For all these faculties deal with ultimates,
i.e. with particulars; and being a man of understanding and of good or
sympathetic judgement consists in being able judge about the things with
which practical wisdom is concerned; for the equities are common to all
good men in relation to other men. Now all things which have to be done
are included among particulars or ultimates; for not only must the man
of practical wisdom know particular facts, but understanding and judgement
are also concerned with things to be done, and these are ultimates. And
intuitive reason is concerned with the ultimates in both directions; for
both the first terms and the last are objects of intuitive reason and not
of argument, and the intuitive reason which is presupposed by demonstrations
grasps the unchangeable and first terms, while the intuitive reason involved
in practical reasonings grasps the last and variable fact, i.e. the minor
premiss. For these variable facts are the starting-points for the apprehension
of the end, since the universals are reached from the particulars; of these
therefore we must have perception, and this perception is intuitive
reason.
This is why these states are thought to be natural endowments-why,
while no one is thought to be a philosopher by nature, people are thought
to have by nature judgement, understanding, and intuitive reason. This
is shown by the fact that we think our powers correspond to our time of
life, and that a particular age brings with it intuitive reason and judgement;
this implies that nature is the cause. (Hence intuitive reason is both
beginning and end; for demonstrations are from these and about these.)
Therefore we ought to attend to the undemonstrated sayings and opinions
of experienced and older people or of people of practical wisdom not less
than to demonstrations; for because experience has given them an eye they
see aright.
We have stated, then, what practical and philosophic wisdom are,
and with what each of them is concerned, and we have said that each is
the virtue of a different part of the soul.
12
Difficulties might be raised as to the utility of these qualities
of mind. For (1) philosophic wisdom will contemplate none of the things
that will make a man happy (for it is not concerned with any coming into
being), and though practical wisdom has this merit, for what purpose do
we need it? Practical wisdom is the quality of mind concerned with things
just and noble and good for man, but these are the things which it is the
mark of a good man to do, and we are none the more able to act for knowing
them if the virtues are states of character, just as we are none the better
able to act for knowing the things that are healthy and sound, in the sense
not of producing but of issuing from the state of health; for we are none
the more able to act for having the art of medicine or of gymnastics. But
(2) if we are to say that a man should have practical wisdom not for the
sake of knowing moral truths but for the sake of becoming good, practical
wisdom will be of no use to those who are good; again it is of no use to
those who have not virtue; for it will make no difference whether they
have practical wisdom themselves or obey others who have it, and it would
be enough for us to do what we do in the case of health; though we wish
to become healthy, yet we do not learn the art of medicine. (3) Besides
this, it would be thought strange if practical wisdom, being inferior to
philosophic wisdom, is to be put in authority over it, as seems to be implied
by the fact that the art which produces anything rules and issues commands
about that thing.
These, then, are the questions we must discuss; so far we have
only stated the difficulties.
(1) Now first let us say that in themselves these states must be
worthy of choice because they are the virtues of the two parts of the soul
respectively, even if neither of them produce anything.
(2) Secondly, they do produce something, not as the art of medicine
produces health, however, but as health produces health; so does philosophic
wisdom produce happiness; for, being a part of virtue entire, by being
possessed and by actualizing itself it makes a man happy.
(3) Again, the work of man is achieved only in accordance with
practical wisdom as well as with moral virtue; for virtue makes us aim
at the right mark, and practical wisdom makes us take the right means.
(Of the fourth part of the soul-the nutritive-there is no such virtue;
for there is nothing which it is in its power to do or not to
do.)
(4) With regard to our being none the more able to do because of
our practical wisdom what is noble and just, let us begin a little further
back, starting with the following principle. As we say that some people
who do just acts are not necessarily just, i.e. those who do the acts ordained
by the laws either unwillingly or owing to ignorance or for some other
reason and not for the sake of the acts themselves (though, to be sure,
they do what they should and all the things that the good man ought), so
is it, it seems, that in order to be good one must be in a certain state
when one does the several acts, i.e. one must do them as a result of choice
and for the sake of the acts themselves. Now virtue makes the choice right,
but the question of the things which should naturally be done to carry
out our choice belongs not to virtue but to another faculty. We must devote
our attention to these matters and give a clearer statement about them.
There is a faculty which is called cleverness; and this is such as to be
able to do the things that tend towards the mark we have set before ourselves,
and to hit it. Now if the mark be noble, the cleverness is laudable, but
if the mark be bad, the cleverness is mere smartness; hence we call even
men of practical wisdom clever or smart. Practical wisdom is not the faculty,
but it does not exist without this faculty. And this eye of the soul acquires
its formed state not without the aid of virtue, as has been said and is
plain; for the syllogisms which deal with acts to be done are things which
involve a starting-point, viz. 'since the end, i.e. what is best, is of
such and such a nature', whatever it may be (let it for the sake of argument
be what we please); and this is not evident except to the good man; for
wickedness perverts us and causes us to be deceived about the starting-points
of action. Therefore it is evident that it is impossible to be practically
wise without being good.
13
We must therefore consider virtue also once more; for virtue too
is similarly related; as practical wisdom is to cleverness-not the same,
but like it-so is natural virtue to virtue in the strict sense. For all
men think that each type of character belongs to its possessors in some
sense by nature; for from the very moment of birth we are just or fitted
for selfcontrol or brave or have the other moral qualities; but yet we
seek something else as that which is good in the strict sense-we seek for
the presence of such qualities in another way. For both children and brutes
have the natural dispositions to these qualities, but without reason these
are evidently hurtful. Only we seem to see this much, that, while one may
be led astray by them, as a strong body which moves without sight may stumble
badly because of its lack of sight, still, if a man once acquires reason,
that makes a difference in action; and his state, while still like what
it was, will then be virtue in the strict sense. Therefore, as in the part
of us which forms opinions there are two types, cleverness and practical
wisdom, so too in the moral part there are two types, natural virtue and
virtue in the strict sense, and of these the latter involves practical
wisdom. This is why some say that all the virtues are forms of practical
wisdom, and why Socrates in one respect was on the right track while in
another he went astray; in thinking that all the virtues were forms of
practical wisdom he was wrong, but in saying they implied practical wisdom
he was right. This is confirmed by the fact that even now all men, when
they define virtue, after naming the state of character and its objects
add 'that (state) which is in accordance with the right rule'; now the
right rule is that which is in accordance with practical wisdom. All men,
then, seem somehow to divine that this kind of state is virtue, viz. that
which is in accordance with practical wisdom. But we must go a little further.
For it is not merely the state in accordance with the right rule, but the
state that implies the presence of the right rule, that is virtue; and
practical wisdom is a right rule about such matters. Socrates, then, thought
the virtues were rules or rational principles (for he thought they were,
all of them, forms of scientific knowledge), while we think they involve
a rational principle.
It is clear, then, from what has been said, that it is not possible
to be good in the strict sense without practical wisdom, nor practically
wise without moral virtue. But in this way we may also refute the dialectical
argument whereby it might be contended that the virtues exist in separation
from each other; the same man, it might be said, is not best equipped by
nature for all the virtues, so that he will have already acquired one when
he has not yet acquired another. This is possible in respect of the natural
virtues, but not in respect of those in respect of which a man is called
without qualification good; for with the presence of the one quality, practical
wisdom, will be given all the virtues. And it is plain that, even if it
were of no practical value, we should have needed it because it is the
virtue of the part of us in question; plain too that the choice will not
be right without practical wisdom any more than without virtue; for the
one deter, mines the end and the other makes us do the things that lead
to the end.
But again it is not supreme over philosophic wisdom, i.e. over
the superior part of us, any more than the art of medicine is over health;
for it does not use it but provides for its coming into being; it issues
orders, then, for its sake, but not to it. Further, to maintain its supremacy
would be like saying that the art of politics rules the gods because it
issues orders about all the affairs of the state.
Nicomachean Ethics
By Aristotle
Book VII
1
Let us now make a fresh beginning and point out that of moral states
to be avoided there are three kinds-vice, incontinence, brutishness. The
contraries of two of these are evident,-one we call virtue, the other continence;
to brutishness it would be most fitting to oppose superhuman virtue, a
heroic and divine kind of virtue, as Homer has represented Priam saying
of Hector that he was very good,
For he seemed not, he,
The child of a mortal man, but as one that of God's seed
came.
Therefore if, as they say, men become gods by excess of virtue,
of this kind must evidently be the state opposed to the brutish state;
for as a brute has no vice or virtue, so neither has a god; his state is
higher than virtue, and that of a brute is a different kind of state from
vice.
Now, since it is rarely that a godlike man is found-to use the
epithet of the Spartans, who when they admire any one highly call him a
'godlike man'-so too the brutish type is rarely found among men; it is
found chiefly among barbarians, but some brutish qualities are also produced
by disease or deformity; and we also call by this evil name those men who
go beyond all ordinary standards by reason of vice. Of this kind of disposition,
however, we must later make some mention, while we have discussed vice
before we must now discuss incontinence and softness (or effeminacy), and
continence and endurance; for we must treat each of the two neither as
identical with virtue or wickedness, nor as a different genus. We must,
as in all other cases, set the observed facts before us and, after first
discussing the difficulties, go on to prove, if possible, the truth of
all the common opinions about these affections of the mind, or, failing
this, of the greater number and the most authoritative; for if we both
refute the objections and leave the common opinions undisturbed, we shall
have proved the case sufficiently.
Now (1) both continence and endurance are thought to be included
among things good and praiseworthy, and both incontinence and soft, ness
among things bad and blameworthy; and the same man is thought to be continent
and ready to abide by the result of his calculations, or incontinent and
ready to abandon them. And (2) the incontinent man, knowing that what he
does is bad, does it as a result of passion, while the continent man, knowing
that his appetites are bad, refuses on account of his rational principle
to follow them (3) The temperate man all men call continent and disposed
to endurance, while the continent man some maintain to be always temperate
but others do not; and some call the self-indulgent man incontinent and
the incontinent man selfindulgent indiscriminately, while others distinguish
them. (4) The man of practical wisdom, they sometimes say, cannot be incontinent,
while sometimes they say that some who are practically wise and clever
are incontinent. Again (5) men are said to be incontinent even with respect
to anger, honour, and gain.-These, then, are the things that are
said.
2
Now we may ask (1) how a man who judges rightly can behave incontinently.
That he should behave so when he has knowledge, some say is impossible;
for it would be strange-so Socrates thought-if when knowledge was in a
man something else could master it and drag it about like a slave. For
Socrates was entirely opposed to the view in question, holding that there
is no such thing as incontinence; no one, he said, when he judges acts
against what he judges best-people act so only by reason of ignorance.
Now this view plainly contradicts the observed facts, and we must inquire
about what happens to such a man; if he acts by reason of ignorance, what
is the manner of his ignorance? For that the man who behaves incontinently
does not, before he gets into this state, think he ought to act so, is
evident. But there are some who concede certain of Socrates' contentions
but not others; that nothing is stronger than knowledge they admit, but
not that on one acts contrary to what has seemed to him the better course,
and therefore they say that the incontinent man has not knowledge when
he is mastered by his pleasures, but opinion. But if it is opinion and
not knowledge, if it is not a strong conviction that resists but a weak
one, as in men who hesitate, we sympathize with their failure to stand
by such convictions against strong appetites; but we do not sympathize
with wickedness, nor with any of the other blameworthy states. Is it then
practical wisdom whose resistance is mastered? That is the strongest of
all states. But this is absurd; the same man will be at once practically
wise and incontinent, but no one would say that it is the part of a practically
wise man to do willingly the basest acts. Besides, it has been shown before
that the man of practical wisdom is one who will act (for he is a man concerned
with the individual facts) and who has the other virtues.
(2) Further, if continence involves having strong and bad appetites,
the temperate man will not be continent nor the continent man temperate;
for a temperate man will have neither excessive nor bad appetites. But
the continent man must; for if the appetites are good, the state of character
that restrains us from following them is bad, so that not all continence
will be good; while if they are weak and not bad, there is nothing admirable
in resisting them, and if they are weak and bad, there is nothing great
in resisting these either.
(3) Further, if continence makes a man ready to stand by any and
every opinion, it is bad, i.e. if it makes him stand even by a false opinion;
and if incontinence makes a man apt to abandon any and every opinion, there
will be a good incontinence, of which Sophocles' Neoptolemus in the Philoctetes
will be an instance; for he is to be praised for not standing by what Odysseus
persuaded him to do, because he is pained at telling a
lie.
(4) Further, the sophistic argument presents a difficulty; the
syllogism arising from men's wish to expose paradoxical results arising
from an opponent's view, in order that they may be admired when they succeed,
is one that puts us in a difficulty (for thought is bound fast when it
will not rest because the conclusion does not satisfy it, and cannot advance
because it cannot refute the argument). There is an argument from which
it follows that folly coupled with incontinence is virtue; for a man does
the opposite of what he judges, owing to incontinence, but judges what
is good to be evil and something that he should not do, and consequence
he will do what is good and not what is evil.
(5) Further, he who on conviction does and pursues and chooses
what is pleasant would be thought to be better than one who does so as
a result not of calculation but of incontinence; for he is easier to cure
since he may be persuaded to change his mind. But to the incontinent man
may be applied the proverb 'when water chokes, what is one to wash it down
with?' If he had been persuaded of the rightness of what he does, he would
have desisted when he was persuaded to change his mind; but now he acts
in spite of his being persuaded of something quite different.
(6) Further, if incontinence and continence are concerned with
any and every kind of object, who is it that is incontinent in the unqualified
sense? No one has all the forms of incontinence, but we say some people
are incontinent without qualification.
3
Of some such kind are the difficulties that arise; some of these
points must be refuted and the others left in possession of the field;
for the solution of the difficulty is the discovery of the truth. (1) We
must consider first, then, whether incontinent people act knowingly or
not, and in what sense knowingly; then (2) with what sorts of object the
incontinent and the continent man may be said to be concerned (i.e. whether
with any and every pleasure and pain or with certain determinate kinds),
and whether the continent man and the man of endurance are the same or
different; and similarly with regard to the other matters germane to this
inquiry. The starting-point of our investigation is (a) the question whether
the continent man and the incontinent are differentiated by their objects
or by their attitude, i.e. whether the incontinent man is incontinent simply
by being concerned with such and such objects, or, instead, by his attitude,
or, instead of that, by both these things; (b) the second question is whether
incontinence and continence are concerned with any and every object or
not. The man who is incontinent in the unqualified sense is neither concerned
with any and every object, but with precisely those with which the self-indulgent
man is concerned, nor is he characterized by being simply related to these
(for then his state would be the same as self-indulgence), but by being
related to them in a certain way. For the one is led on in accordance with
his own choice, thinking that he ought always to pursue the present pleasure;
while the other does not think so, but yet pursues it.
(1) As for the suggestion that it is true opinion and not knowledge
against which we act incontinently, that makes no difference to the argument;
for some people when in a state of opinion do not hesitate, but think they
know exactly. If, then, the notion is that owing to their weak conviction
those who have opinion are more likely to act against their judgement than
those who know, we answer that there need be no difference between knowledge
and opinion in this respect; for some men are no less convinced of what
they think than others of what they know; as is shown by the of Heraclitus.
But (a), since we use the word 'know' in two senses (for both the man who
has knowledge but is not using it and he who is using it are said to know),
it will make a difference whether, when a man does what he should not,
he has the knowledge but is not exercising it, or is exercising it; for
the latter seems strange, but not the former.
(b) Further, since there are two kinds of premisses, there is nothing
to prevent a man's having both premisses and acting against his knowledge,
provided that he is using only the universal premiss and not the particular;
for it is particular acts that have to be done. And there are also two
kinds of universal term; one is predicable of the agent, the other of the
object; e.g. 'dry food is good for every man', and 'I am a man', or 'such
and such food is dry'; but whether 'this food is such and such', of this
the incontinent man either has not or is not exercising the knowledge.
There will, then, be, firstly, an enormous difference between these manners
of knowing, so that to know in one way when we act incontinently would
not seem anything strange, while to know in the other way would be
extraordinary.
And further (c) the possession of knowledge in another sense than
those just named is something that happens to men; for within the case
of having knowledge but not using it we see a difference of state, admitting
of the possibility of having knowledge in a sense and yet not having it,
as in the instance of a man asleep, mad, or drunk. But now this is just
the condition of men under the influence of passions; for outbursts of
anger and sexual appetites and some other such passions, it is evident,
actually alter our bodily condition, and in some men even produce fits
of madness. It is plain, then, that incontinent people must be said to
be in a similar condition to men asleep, mad, or drunk. The fact that men
use the language that flows from knowledge proves nothing; for even men
under the influence of these passions utter scientific proofs and verses
of Empedocles, and those who have just begun to learn a science can string
together its phrases, but do not yet know it; for it has to become part
of themselves, and that takes time; so that we must suppose that the use
of language by men in an incontinent state means no more than its utterance
by actors on the stage. (d) Again, we may also view the cause as follows
with reference to the facts of human nature. The one opinion is universal,
the other is concerned with the particular facts, and here we come to something
within the sphere of perception; when a single opinion results from the
two, the soul must in one type of case affirm the conclusion, while in
the case of opinions concerned with production it must immediately act
(e.g. if 'everything sweet ought to be tasted', and 'this is sweet', in
the sense of being one of the particular sweet things, the man who can
act and is not prevented must at the same time actually act accordingly).
When, then, the universal opinion is present in us forbidding us to taste,
and there is also the opinion that 'everything sweet is pleasant', and
that 'this is sweet' (now this is the opinion that is active), and when
appetite happens to be present in us, the one opinion bids us avoid the
object, but appetite leads us towards it (for it can move each of our bodily
parts); so that it turns out that a man behaves incontinently under the
influence (in a sense) of a rule and an opinion, and of one not contrary
in itself, but only incidentally-for the appetite is contrary, not the
opinion-to the right rule. It also follows that this is the reason why
the lower animals are not incontinent, viz. because they have no universal
judgement but only imagination and memory of particulars.
The explanation of how the ignorance is dissolved and the incontinent
man regains his knowledge, is the same as in the case of the man drunk
or asleep and is not peculiar to this condition; we must go to the students
of natural science for it. Now, the last premiss both being an opinion
about a perceptible object, and being what determines our actions this
a man either has not when he is in the state of passion, or has it in the
sense in which having knowledge did not mean knowing but only talking,
as a drunken man may utter the verses of Empedocles. And because the last
term is not universal nor equally an object of scientific knowledge with
the universal term, the position that Socrates sought to establish actually
seems to result; for it is not in the presence of what is thought to be
knowledge proper that the affection of incontinence arises (nor is it this
that is 'dragged about' as a result of the state of passion), but in that
of perceptual knowledge.
This must suffice as our answer to the question of action with
and without knowledge, and how it is possible to behave incontinently with
knowledge.
4
(2) We must next discuss whether there is any one who is incontinent
without qualification, or all men who are incontinent are so in a particular
sense, and if there is, with what sort of objects he is concerned. That
both continent persons and persons of endurance, and incontinent and soft
persons, are concerned with pleasures and pains, is
evident.
Now of the things that produce pleasure some are necessary, while
others are worthy of choice in themselves but admit of excess, the bodily
causes of pleasure being necessary (by such I mean both those concerned
with food and those concerned with sexual intercourse, i.e. the bodily
matters with which we defined self-indulgence and temperance as being concerned),
while the others are not necessary but worthy of choice in themselves (e.g.
victory, honour, wealth, and good and pleasant things of this sort). This
being so, (a) those who go to excess with reference to the latter, contrary
to the right rule which is in themselves, are not called incontinent simply,
but incontinent with the qualification 'in respect of money, gain, honour,
or anger',-not simply incontinent, on the ground that they are different
from incontinent people and are called incontinent by reason of a resemblance.
(Compare the case of Anthropos (Man), who won a contest at the Olympic
games; in his case the general definition of man differed little from the
definition peculiar to him, but yet it was different.) This is shown by
the fact that incontinence either without qualification or in respect of
some particular bodily pleasure is blamed not only as a fault but as a
kind of vice, while none of the people who are incontinent in these other
respects is so blamed.
But (b) of the people who are incontinent with respect to bodily
enjoyments, with which we say the temperate and the self-indulgent man
are concerned, he who pursues the excesses of things pleasant-and shuns
those of things painful, of hunger and thirst and heat and cold and all
the objects of touch and taste-not by choice but contrary to his choice
and his judgement, is called incontinent, not with the qualification 'in
respect of this or that', e.g. of anger, but just simply. This is confirmed
by the fact that men are called 'soft' with regard to these pleasures,
but not with regard to any of the others. And for this reason we group
together the incontinent and the self-indulgent, the continent and the
temperate man-but not any of these other types-because they are concerned
somehow with the same pleasures and pains; but though these are concerned
with the same objects, they are not similarly related to them, but some
of them make a deliberate choice while the others do
not.
This is why we should describe as self-indulgent rather the man
who without appetite or with but a slight appetite pursues the excesses
of pleasure and avoids moderate pains, than the man who does so because
of his strong appetites; for what would the former do, if he had in addition
a vigorous appetite, and a violent pain at the lack of the 'necessary'
objects?
Now of appetites and pleasures some belong to the class of things
generically noble and good-for some pleasant things are by nature worthy
of choice, while others are contrary to these, and others are intermediate,
to adopt our previous distinction-e.g. wealth, gain, victory, honour. And
with reference to all objects whether of this or of the intermediate kind
men are not blamed for being affected by them, for desiring and loving
them, but for doing so in a certain way, i.e. for going to excess. (This
is why all those who contrary to the rule either are mastered by or pursue
one of the objects which are naturally noble and good, e.g. those who busy
themselves more than they ought about honour or about children and parents,
(are not wicked); for these too are good, and those who busy themselves
about them are praised; but yet there is an excess even in them-if like
Niobe one were to fight even against the gods, or were to be as much devoted
to one's father as Satyrus nicknamed 'the filial', who was thought to be
very silly on this point.) There is no wickedness, then, with regard to
these objects, for the reason named, viz. because each of them is by nature
a thing worthy of choice for its own sake; yet excesses in respect of them
are bad and to be avoided. Similarly there is no incontinence with regard
to them; for incontinence is not only to be avoided but is also a thing
worthy of blame; but owing to a similarity in the state of feeling people
apply the name incontinence, adding in each case what it is in respect
of, as we may describe as a bad doctor or a bad actor one whom we should
not call bad, simply. As, then, in this case we do not apply the term without
qualification because each of these conditions is no shadness but only
analogous to it, so it is clear that in the other case also that alone
must be taken to be incontinence and continence which is concerned with
the same objects as temperance and self-indulgence, but we apply the term
to anger by virtue of a resemblance; and this is why we say with a qualification
'incontinent in respect of anger' as we say 'incontinent in respect of
honour, or of gain'.
5
(1) Some things are pleasant by nature, and of these (a) some are
so without qualification, and (b) others are so with reference to particular
classes either of animals or of men; while (2) others are not pleasant
by nature, but (a) some of them become so by reason of injuries to the
system, and (b) others by reason of acquired habits, and (c) others by
reason of originally bad natures. This being so, it is possible with regard
to each of the latter kinds to discover similar states of character to
those recognized with regard to the former; I mean (A) the brutish states,
as in the case of the female who, they say, rips open pregnant women and
devours the infants, or of the things in which some of the tribes about
the Black Sea that have gone savage are said to delight-in raw meat or
in human flesh, or in lending their children to one another to feast upon-or
of the story told of Phalaris.
These states are brutish, but (B) others arise as a result of disease
(or, in some cases, of madness, as with the man who sacrificed and ate
his mother, or with the slave who ate the liver of his fellow), and others
are morbid states (C) resulting from custom, e.g. the habit of plucking
out the hair or of gnawing the nails, or even coals or earth, and in addition
to these paederasty; for these arise in some by nature and in others, as
in those who have been the victims of lust from childhood, from
habit.
Now those in whom nature is the cause of such a state no one would
call incontinent, any more than one would apply the epithet to women because
of the passive part they play in copulation; nor would one apply it to
those who are in a morbid condition as a result of habit. To have these
various types of habit is beyond the limits of vice, as brutishness is
too; for a man who has them to master or be mastered by them is not simple
(continence or) incontinence but that which is so by analogy, as the man
who is in this condition in respect of fits of anger is to be called incontinent
in respect of that feeling but not incontinent simply. For every excessive
state whether of folly, of cowardice, of self-indulgence, or of bad temper,
is either brutish or morbid; the man who is by nature apt to fear everything,
even the squeak of a mouse, is cowardly with a brutish cowardice, while
the man who feared a weasel did so in consequence of disease; and of foolish
people those who by nature are thoughtless and live by their senses alone
are brutish, like some races of the distant barbarians, while those who
are so as a result of disease (e.g. of epilepsy) or of madness are morbid.
Of these characteristics it is possible to have some only at times, and
not to be mastered by them. e.g. Phalaris may have restrained a desire
to eat the flesh of a child or an appetite for unnatural sexual pleasure;
but it is also possible to be mastered, not merely to have the feelings.
Thus, as the wickedness which is on the human level is called wickedness
simply, while that which is not is called wickedness not simply but with
the qualification 'brutish' or 'morbid', in the same way it is plain that
some incontinence is brutish and some morbid, while only that which corresponds
to human self-indulgence is incontinence simply.
That incontinence and continence, then, are concerned only with
the same objects as selfindulgence and temperance and that what is concerned
with other objects is a type distinct from incontinence, and called incontinence
by a metaphor and not simply, is plain.
6
That incontinence in respect of anger is less disgraceful than
that in respect of the appetites is what we will now proceed to see. (1)
Anger seems to listen to argument to some extent, but to mishear it, as
do hasty servants who run out before they have heard the whole of what
one says, and then muddle the order, or as dogs bark if there is but a
knock at the door, before looking to see if it is a friend; so anger by
reason of the warmth and hastiness of its nature, though it hears, does
not hear an order, and springs to take revenge. For argument or imagination
informs us that we have been insulted or slighted, and anger, reasoning
as it were that anything like this must be fought against, boils up straightway;
while appetite, if argument or perception merely says that an object is
pleasant, springs to the enjoyment of it. Therefore anger obeys the argument
in a sense, but appetite does not. It is therefore more disgraceful; for
the man who is incontinent in respect of anger is in a sense conquered
by argument, while the other is conquered by appetite and not by
argument.
(2) Further, we pardon people more easily for following natural
desires, since we pardon them more easily for following such appetites
as are common to all men, and in so far as they are common; now anger and
bad temper are more natural than the appetites for excess, i.e. for unnecessary
objects. Take for instance the man who defended himself on the charge of
striking his father by saying 'yes, but he struck his father, and he struck
his, and' (pointing to his child) 'this boy will strike me when he is a
man; it runs in the family'; or the man who when he was being dragged along
by his son bade him stop at the doorway, since he himself had dragged his
father only as far as that.
(2) Further, those who are more given to plotting against others
are more criminal. Now a passionate man is not given to plotting, nor is
anger itself-it is open; but the nature of appetite is illustrated by what
the poets call Aphrodite, 'guile-weaving daughter of Cyprus', and by Homer's
words about her 'embroidered girdle':
And the whisper of wooing is there,
Whose subtlety stealeth the wits of the wise, how prudent soe'er. Therefore
if this form of incontinence is more criminal and disgraceful than that
in respect of anger, it is both incontinence without qualification and
in a sense vice.
(4) Further, no one commits wanton outrage with a feeling of pain,
but every one who acts in anger acts with pain, while the man who commits
outrage acts with pleasure. If, then, those acts at which it is most just
to be angry are more criminal than others, the incontinence which is due
to appetite is the more criminal; for there is no wanton outrage involved
in anger.
Plainly, then, the incontinence concerned with appetite is more
disgraceful than that concerned with anger, and continence and incontinence
are concerned with bodily appetites and pleasures; but we must grasp the
differences among the latter themselves. For, as has been said at the beginning,
some are human and natural both in kind and in magnitude, others are brutish,
and others are due to organic injuries and diseases. Only with the first
of these are temperance and self-indulgence concerned; this is why we call
the lower animals neither temperate nor self-indulgent except by a metaphor,
and only if some one race of animals exceeds another as a whole in wantonness,
destructiveness, and omnivorous greed; these have no power of choice or
calculation, but they are departures from the natural norm, as, among men,
madmen are. Now brutishness is a less evil than vice, though more alarming;
for it is not that the better part has been perverted, as in man,-they
have no better part. Thus it is like comparing a lifeless thing with a
living in respect of badness; for the badness of that which has no originative
source of movement is always less hurtful, and reason is an originative
source. Thus it is like comparing injustice in the abstract with an unjust
man. Each is in some sense worse; for a bad man will do ten thousand times
as much evil as a brute.
7
With regard to the pleasures and pains and appetites and aversions
arising through touch and taste, to which both self-indulgence and temperance
were formerly narrowed down, it possible to be in such a state as to be
defeated even by those of them which most people master, or to master even
those by which most people are defeated; among these possibilities, those
relating to pleasures are incontinence and continence, those relating to
pains softness and endurance. The state of most people is intermediate,
even if they lean more towards the worse states.
Now, since some pleasures are necessary while others are not, and
are necessary up to a point while the excesses of them are not, nor the
deficiencies, and this is equally true of appetites and pains, the man
who pursues the excesses of things pleasant, or pursues to excess necessary
objects, and does so by choice, for their own sake and not at all for the
sake of any result distinct from them, is self-indulgent; for such a man
is of necessity unlikely to repent, and therefore incurable, since a man
who cannot repent cannot be cured. The man who is deficient in his pursuit
of them is the opposite of self-indulgent; the man who is intermediate
is temperate. Similarly, there is the man who avoids bodily pains not because
he is defeated by them but by choice. (Of those who do not choose such
acts, one kind of man is led to them as a result of the pleasure involved,
another because he avoids the pain arising from the appetite, so that these
types differ from one another. Now any one would think worse of a man with
no appetite or with weak appetite were he to do something disgraceful,
than if he did it under the influence of powerful appetite, and worse of
him if he struck a blow not in anger than if he did it in anger; for what
would he have done if he had been strongly affected? This is why the self-indulgent
man is worse than the incontinent.) of the states named, then, the latter
is rather a kind of softness; the former is self-indulgence. While to the
incontinent man is opposed the continent, to the soft is opposed the man
of endurance; for endurance consists in resisting, while continence consists
in conquering, and resisting and conquering are different, as not being
beaten is different from winning; this is why continence is also more worthy
of choice than endurance. Now the man who is defective in respect of resistance
to the things which most men both resist and resist successfully is soft
and effeminate; for effeminacy too is a kind of softness; such a man trails
his cloak to avoid the pain of lifting it, and plays the invalid without
thinking himself wretched, though the man he imitates is a wretched
man.
The case is similar with regard to continence and incontinence.
For if a man is defeated by violent and excessive pleasures or pains, there
is nothing wonderful in that; indeed we are ready to pardon him if he has
resisted, as Theodectes' Philoctetes does when bitten by the snake, or
Carcinus' Cercyon in the Alope, and as people who try to restrain their
laughter burst out into a guffaw, as happened to Xenophantus. But it is
surprising if a man is defeated by and cannot resist pleasures or pains
which most men can hold out against, when this is not due to heredity or
disease, like the softness that is hereditary with the kings of the Scythians,
or that which distinguishes the female sex from the
male.
The lover of amusement, too, is thought to be self-indulgent, but
is really soft. For amusement is a relaxation, since it is a rest from
work; and the lover of amusement is one of the people who go to excess
in this.
Of incontinence one kind is impetuosity, another weakness. For
some men after deliberating fail, owing to their emotion, to stand by the
conclusions of their deliberation, others because they have not deliberated
are led by their emotion; since some men (just as people who first tickle
others are not tickled themselves), if they have first perceived and seen
what is coming and have first roused themselves and their calculative faculty,
are not defeated by their emotion, whether it be pleasant or painful. It
is keen and excitable people that suffer especially from the impetuous
form of incontinence; for the former by reason of their quickness and the
latter by reason of the violence of their passions do not await the argument,
because they are apt to follow their imagination.
8
The self-indulgent man, as was said, is not apt to repent; for
he stands by his choice; but incontinent man is likely to repent. This
is why the position is not as it was expressed in the formulation of the
problem, but the selfindulgent man is incurable and the incontinent man
curable; for wickedness is like a disease such as dropsy or consumption,
while incontinence is like epilepsy; the former is a permanent, the latter
an intermittent badness. And generally incontinence and vice are different
in kind; vice is unconscious of itself, incontinence is not (of incontinent
men themselves, those who become temporarily beside themselves are better
than those who have the rational principle but do not abide by it, since
the latter are defeated by a weaker passion, and do not act without previous
deliberation like the others); for the incontinent man is like the people
who get drunk quickly and on little wine, i.e. on less than most
people.
Evidently, then, incontinence is not vice (though perhaps it is
so in a qualified sense); for incontinence is contrary to choice while
vice is in accordance with choice; not but what they are similar in respect
of the actions they lead to; as in the saying of Demodocus about the Milesians,
'the Milesians are not without sense, but they do the things that senseless
people do', so too incontinent people are not criminal, but they will do
criminal acts.
Now, since the incontinent man is apt to pursue, not on conviction,
bodily pleasures that are excessive and contrary to the right rule, while
the self-indulgent man is convinced because he is the sort of man to pursue
them, it is on the contrary the former that is easily persuaded to change
his mind, while the latter is not. For virtue and vice respectively preserve
and destroy the first principle, and in actions the final cause is the
first principle, as the hypotheses are in mathematics; neither in that
case is it argument that teaches the first principles, nor is it so here-virtue
either natural or produced by habituation is what teaches right opinion
about the first principle. Such a man as this, then, is temperate; his
contrary is the self-indulgent.
But there is a sort of man who is carried away as a result of passion
and contrary to the right rule-a man whom passion masters so that he does
not act according to the right rule, but does not master to the extent
of making him ready to believe that he ought to pursue such pleasures without
reserve; this is the incontinent man, who is better than the self-indulgent
man, and not bad without qualification; for the best thing in him, the
first principle, is preserved. And contrary to him is another kind of man,
he who abides by his convictions and is not carried away, at least as a
result of passion. It is evident from these considerations that the latter
is a good state and the former a bad one.
9
Is the man continent who abides by any and every rule and any and
every choice, or the man who abides by the right choice, and is he incontinent
who abandons any and every choice and any and every rule, or he who abandons
the rule that is not false and the choice that is right; this is how we
put it before in our statement of the problem. Or is it incidentally any
and every choice but per se the true rule and the right choice by which
the one abides and the other does not? If any one chooses or pursues this
for the sake of that, per se he pursues and chooses the latter, but incidentally
the former. But when we speak without qualification we mean what is per
se. Therefore in a sense the one abides by, and the other abandons, any
and every opinion; but without qualification, the true
opinion.
There are some who are apt to abide by their opinion, who are called
strong-headed, viz. those who are hard to persuade in the first instance
and are not easily persuaded to change; these have in them something like
the continent man, as the prodigal is in a way like the liberal man and
the rash man like the confident man; but they are different in many respects.
For it is to passion and appetite that the one will not yield, since on
occasion the continent man will be easy to persuade; but it is to argument
that the others refuse to yield, for they do form appetites and many of
them are led by their pleasures. Now the people who are strong-headed are
the opinionated, the ignorant, and the boorish-the opinionated being influenced
by pleasure and pain; for they delight in the victory they gain if they
are not persuaded to change, and are pained if their decisions become null
and void as decrees sometimes do; so that they are liker the incontinent
than the continent man.
But there are some who fail to abide by their resolutions, not
as a result of incontinence, e.g. Neoptolemus in Sophocles' Philoctetes;
yet it was for the sake of pleasure that he did not stand fast-but a noble
pleasure; for telling the truth was noble to him, but he had been persuaded
by Odysseus to tell the lie. For not every one who does anything for the
sake of pleasure is either self-indulgent or bad or incontinent, but he
who does it for a disgraceful pleasure.
Since there is also a sort of man who takes less delight than he
should in bodily things, and does not abide by the rule, he who is intermediate
between him and the incontinent man is the continent man; for the incontinent
man fails to abide by the rule because he delights too much in them, and
this man because he delights in them too little; while the continent man
abides by the rule and does not change on either account. Now if continence
is good, both the contrary states must be bad, as they actually appear
to be; but because the other extreme is seen in few people and seldom,
as temperance is thought to be contrary only to self-indulgence, so is
continence to incontinence.
Since many names are applied analogically, it is by analogy that
we have come to speak of the 'continence' the temperate man; for both the
continent man and the temperate man are such as to do nothing contrary
to the rule for the sake of the bodily pleasures, but the former has and
the latter has not bad appetites, and the latter is such as not to feel
pleasure contrary to the rule, while the former is such as to feel pleasure
but not to be led by it. And the incontinent and the self-indulgent man
are also like another; they are different, but both pursue bodily pleasures-
the latter, however, also thinking that he ought to do so, while the former
does not think this.
10
Nor can the same man have practical wisdom and be incontinent;
for it has been shown' that a man is at the same time practically wise,
and good in respect of character. Further, a man has practical wisdom not
by knowing only but by being able to act; but the incontinent man is unable
to act-there is, however, nothing to prevent a clever man from being incontinent;
this is why it is sometimes actually thought that some people have practical
wisdom but are incontinent, viz. because cleverness and practical wisdom
differ in the way we have described in our first discussions, and are near
together in respect of their reasoning, but differ in respect of their
purpose-nor yet is the incontinent man like the man who knows and is contemplating
a truth, but like the man who is asleep or drunk. And he acts willingly
(for he acts in a sense with knowledge both of what he does and of the
end to which he does it), but is not wicked, since his purpose is good;
so that he is half-wicked. And he is not a criminal; for he does not act
of malice aforethought; of the two types of incontinent man the one does
not abide by the conclusions of his deliberation, while the excitable man
does not deliberate at all. And thus the incontinent man like a city which
passes all the right decrees and has good laws, but makes no use of them,
as in Anaxandrides' jesting remark,
The city willed it, that cares nought for laws; but the wicked
man is like a city that uses its laws, but has wicked laws to
use.
Now incontinence and continence are concerned with that which is
in excess of the state characteristic of most men; for the continent man
abides by his resolutions more and the incontinent man less than most men
can.
Of the forms of incontinence, that of excitable people is more
curable than that of those who deliberate but do not abide by their decisions,
and those who are incontinent through habituation are more curable than
those in whom incontinence is innate; for it is easier to change a habit
than to change one's nature; even habit is hard to change just because
it is like nature, as Evenus says:
I say that habit's but a long practice, friend,
And this becomes men's nature in the end.
We have now stated what continence, incontinence, endurance, and
softness are, and how these states are related to each
other.
11
The study of pleasure and pain belongs to the province of the political
philosopher; for he is the architect of the end, with a view to which we
call one thing bad and another good without qualification. Further, it
is one of our necessary tasks to consider them; for not only did we lay
it down that moral virtue and vice are concerned with pains and pleasures,
but most people say that happiness involves pleasure; this is why the blessed
man is called by a name derived from a word meaning
enjoyment.
Now (1) some people think that no pleasure is a good, either in
itself or incidentally, since the good and pleasure are not the same; (2)
others think that some pleasures are good but that most are bad. (3) Again
there is a third view, that even if all pleasures are good, yet the best
thing in the world cannot be pleasure. (1) The reasons given for the view
that pleasure is not a good at all are (a) that every pleasure is a perceptible
process to a natural state, and that no process is of the same kind as
its end, e.g. no process of building of the same kind as a house. (b) A
temperate man avoids pleasures. (c) A man of practical wisdom pursues what
is free from pain, not what is pleasant. (d) The pleasures are a hindrance
to thought, and the more so the more one delights in them, e.g. in sexual
pleasure; for no one could think of anything while absorbed in this. (e)
There is no art of pleasure; but every good is the product of some art.
(f) Children and the brutes pursue pleasures. (2) The reasons for the view
that not all pleasures are good are that (a) there are pleasures that are
actually base and objects of reproach, and (b) there are harmful pleasures;
for some pleasant things are unhealthy. (3) The reason for the view that
the best thing in the world is not pleasure is that pleasure is not an
end but a process.
12
These are pretty much the things that are said. That it does not
follow from these grounds that pleasure is not a good, or even the chief
good, is plain from the following considerations. (A) (a) First, since
that which is good may be so in either of two senses (one thing good simply
and another good for a particular person), natural constitutions and states
of being, and therefore also the corresponding movements and processes,
will be correspondingly divisible. Of those which are thought to be bad
some will be bad if taken without qualification but not bad for a particular
person, but worthy of his choice, and some will not be worthy of choice
even for a particular person, but only at a particular time and for a short
period, though not without qualification; while others are not even pleasures,
but seem to be so, viz. all those which involve pain and whose end is curative,
e.g. the processes that go on in sick persons.
(b) Further, one kind of good being activity and another being
state, the processes that restore us to our natural state are only incidentally
pleasant; for that matter the activity at work in the appetites for them
is the activity of so much of our state and nature as has remained unimpaired;
for there are actually pleasures that involve no pain or appetite (e.g.
those of contemplation), the nature in such a case not being defective
at all. That the others are incidental is indicated by the fact that men
do not enjoy the same pleasant objects when their nature is in its settled
state as they do when it is being replenished, but in the former case they
enjoy the things that are pleasant without qualification, in the latter
the contraries of these as well; for then they enjoy even sharp and bitter
things, none of which is pleasant either by nature or without qualification.
The states they produce, therefore, are not pleasures naturally or without
qualification; for as pleasant things differ, so do the pleasures arising
from them.
(c) Again, it is not necessary that there should be something else
better than pleasure, as some say the end is better than the process; for
leasures are not processes nor do they all involve process-they are activities
and ends; nor do they arise when we are becoming something, but when we
are exercising some faculty; and not all pleasures have an end different
from themselves, but only the pleasures of persons who are being led to
the perfecting of their nature. This is why it is not right to say that
pleasure is perceptible process, but it should rather be called activity
of the natural state, and instead of 'perceptible' 'unimpeded'. It is thought
by some people to be process just because they think it is in the strict
sense good; for they think that activity is process, which it is
not.
(B) The view that pleasures are bad because some pleasant things
are unhealthy is like saying that healthy things are bad because some healthy
things are bad for money-making; both are bad in the respect mentioned,
but they are not bad for that reason-indeed, thinking itself is sometimes
injurious to health.
Neither practical wisdom nor any state of being is impeded by the
pleasure arising from it; it is foreign pleasures that impede, for the
pleasures arising from thinking and learning will make us think and learn
all the more.
(C) The fact that no pleasure is the product of any art arises
naturally enough; there is no art of any other activity either, but only
of the corresponding faculty; though for that matter the arts of the perfumer
and the cook are thought to be arts of pleasure.
(D) The arguments based on the grounds that the temperate man avoids
pleasure and that the man of practical wisdom pursues the painless life,
and that children and the brutes pursue pleasure, are all refuted by the
same consideration. We have pointed out in what sense pleasures are good
without qualification and in what sense some are not good; now both the
brutes and children pursue pleasures of the latter kind (and the man of
practical wisdom pursues tranquil freedom from that kind), viz. those which
imply appetite and pain, i.e. the bodily pleasures (for it is these that
are of this nature) and the excesses of them, in respect of which the self-indulgent
man is self-indulent. This is why the temperate man avoids these pleasures;
for even he has pleasures of his own.
13
But further (E) it is agreed that pain is bad and to be avoided;
for some pain is without qualification bad, and other pain is bad because
it is in some respect an impediment to us. Now the contrary of that which
is to be avoided, qua something to be avoided and bad, is good. Pleasure,
then, is necessarily a good. For the answer of Speusippus, that pleasure
is contrary both to pain and to good, as the greater is contrary both to
the less and to the equal, is not successful; since he would not say that
pleasure is essentially just a species of evil.
And (F) if certain pleasures are bad, that does not prevent the
chief good from being some pleasure, just as the chief good may be some
form of knowledge though certain kinds of knowledge are bad. Perhaps it
is even necessary, if each disposition has unimpeded activities, that,
whether the activity (if unimpeded) of all our dispositions or that of
some one of them is happiness, this should be the thing most worthy of
our choice; and this activity is pleasure. Thus the chief good would be
some pleasure, though most pleasures might perhaps be bad without qualification.
And for this reason all men think that the happy life is pleasant and weave
pleasure into their ideal of happiness-and reasonably too; for no activity
is perfect when it is impeded, and happiness is a perfect thing; this is
why the happy man needs the goods of the body and external goods, i.e.
those of fortune, viz. in order that he may not be impeded in these ways.
Those who say that the victim on the rack or the man who falls into great
misfortunes is happy if he is good, are, whether they mean to or not, talking
nonsense. Now because we need fortune as well as other things, some people
think good fortune the same thing as happiness; but it is not that, for
even good fortune itself when in excess is an impediment, and perhaps should
then be no longer called good fortune; for its limit is fixed by reference
to happiness.
And indeed the fact that all things, both brutes and men, pursue
pleasure is an indication of its being somehow the chief
good:
No voice is wholly lost that many peoples... But since no one nature
or state either is or is thought the best for all, neither do all pursue
the same pleasure; yet all pursue pleasure. And perhaps they actually pursue
not the pleasure they think they pursue nor that which they would say they
pursue, but the same pleasure; for all things have by nature something
divine in them. But the bodily pleasures have appropriated the name both
because we oftenest steer our course for them and because all men share
in them; thus because they alone are familiar, men think there are no
others.
It is evident also that if pleasure, i.e. the activity of our faculties,
is not a good, it will not be the case that the happy man lives a pleasant
life; for to what end should he need pleasure, if it is not a good but
the happy man may even live a painful life? For pain is neither an evil
nor a good, if pleasure is not; why then should he avoid it? Therefore,
too, the life of the good man will not be pleasanter than that of any one
else, if his activities are not more pleasant.
14
(G) With regard to the bodily pleasures, those who say that some
pleasures are very much to be chosen, viz. the noble pleasures, but not
the bodily pleasures, i.e. those with which the self-indulgent man is concerned,
must consider why, then, the contrary pains are bad. For the contrary of
bad is good. Are the necessary pleasures good in the sense in which even
that which is not bad is good? Or are they good up to a point? Is it that
where you have states and processes of which there cannot be too much,
there cannot be too much of the corresponding pleasure, and that where
there can be too much of the one there can be too much of the other also?
Now there can be too much of bodily goods, and the bad man is bad by virtue
of pursuing the excess, not by virtue of pursuing the necessary pleasures
(for all men enjoy in some way or other both dainty foods and wines and
sexual intercourse, but not all men do so as they ought). The contrary
is the case with pain; for he does not avoid the excess of it, he avoids
it altogether; and this is peculiar to him, for the alternative to excess
of pleasure is not pain, except to the man who pursues this
excess.
Since we should state not only the truth, but also the cause of
error-for this contributes towards producing conviction, since when a reasonable
explanation is given of why the false view appears true, this tends to
produce belief in the true view-therefore we must state why the bodily
pleasures appear the more worthy of choice. (a) Firstly, then, it is because
they expel pain; owing to the excesses of pain that men experience, they
pursue excessive and in general bodily pleasure as being a cure for the
pain. Now curative agencies produce intense feeling-which is the reason
why they are pursued-because they show up against the contrary pain. (Indeed
pleasure is thought not to be good for these two reasons, as has been said,
viz. that (a) some of them are activities belonging to a bad nature-either
congenital, as in the case of a brute, or due to habit, i.e. those of bad
men; while (b) others are meant to cure a defective nature, and it is better
to be in a healthy state than to be getting into it, but these arise during
the process of being made perfect and are therefore only incidentally good.)
(b) Further, they are pursued because of their violence by those who cannot
enjoy other pleasures. (At all events they go out of their way to manufacture
thirsts somehow for themselves. When these are harmless, the practice is
irreproachable; when they are hurtful, it is bad.) For they have nothing
else to enjoy, and, besides, a neutral state is painful to many people
because of their nature. For the animal nature is always in travail, as
the students of natural science also testify, saying that sight and hearing
are painful; but we have become used to this, as they maintain. Similarly,
while, in youth, people are, owing to the growth that is going on, in a
situation like that of drunken men, and youth is pleasant, on the other
hand people of excitable nature always need relief; for even their body
is ever in torment owing to its special composition, and they are always
under the influence of violent desire; but pain is driven out both by the
contrary pleasure, and by any chance pleasure if it be strong; and for
these reasons they become self-indulgent and bad. But the pleasures that
do not involve pains do not admit of excess; and these are among the things
pleasant by nature and not incidentally. By things pleasant incidentally
I mean those that act as cures (for because as a result people are cured,
through some action of the part that remains healthy, for this reason the
process is thought pleasant); by things naturally pleasant I mean those
that stimulate the action of the healthy nature.
There is no one thing that is always pleasant, because our nature
is not simple but there is another element in us as well, inasmuch as we
are perishable creatures, so that if the one element does something, this
is unnatural to the other nature, and when the two elements are evenly
balanced, what is done seems neither painful nor pleasant; for if the nature
of anything were simple, the same action would always be most pleasant
to it. This is why God always enjoys a single and simple pleasure; for
there is not only an activity of movement but an activity of immobility,
and pleasure is found more in rest than in movement. But 'change in all
things is sweet', as the poet says, because of some vice; for as it is
the vicious man that is changeable, so the nature that needs change is
vicious; for it is not simple nor good.
We have now discussed continence and incontinence, and pleasure
and pain, both what each is and in what sense some of them are good and
others bad; it remains to speak of friendship.
Nicomachean Ethics
By Aristotle
Book VIII
1
After what we have said, a discussion of friendship would naturally
follow, since it is a virtue or implies virtue, and is besides most necessary
with a view to living. For without friends no one would choose to live,
though he had all other goods; even rich men and those in possession of
office and of dominating power are thought to need friends most of all;
for what is the use of such prosperity without the opportunity of beneficence,
which is exercised chiefly and in its most laudable form towards friends?
Or how can prosperity be guarded and preserved without friends? The greater
it is, the more exposed is it to risk. And in poverty and in other misfortunes
men think friends are the only refuge. It helps the young, too, to keep
from error; it aids older people by ministering to their needs and supplementing
the activities that are failing from weakness; those in the prime of life
it stimulates to noble actions-'two going together'-for with friends men
are more able both to think and to act. Again, parent seems by nature to
feel it for offspring and offspring for parent, not only among men but
among birds and among most animals; it is felt mutually by members of the
same race, and especially by men, whence we praise lovers of their fellowmen.
We may even in our travels how near and dear every man is to every other.
Friendship seems too to hold states together, and lawgivers to care more
for it than for justice; for unanimity seems to be something like friendship,
and this they aim at most of all, and expel faction as their worst enemy;
and when men are friends they have no need of justice, while when they
are just they need friendship as well, and the truest form of justice is
thought to be a friendly quality.
But it is not only necessary but also noble; for we praise those
who love their friends, and it is thought to be a fine thing to have many
friends; and again we think it is the same people that are good men and
are friends.
Not a few things about friendship are matters of debate. Some define
it as a kind of likeness and say like people are friends, whence come the
sayings 'like to like', 'birds of a feather flock together', and so on;
others on the contrary say 'two of a trade never agree'. On this very question
they inquire for deeper and more physical causes, Euripides saying that
'parched earth loves the rain, and stately heaven when filled with rain
loves to fall to earth', and Heraclitus that 'it is what opposes that helps'
and 'from different tones comes the fairest tune' and 'all things are produced
through strife'; while Empedocles, as well as others, expresses the opposite
view that like aims at like. The physical problems we may leave alone (for
they do not belong to the present inquiry); let us examine those which
are human and involve character and feeling, e.g. whether friendship can
arise between any two people or people cannot be friends if they are wicked,
and whether there is one species of friendship or more than one. Those
who think there is only one because it admits of degrees have relied on
an inadequate indication; for even things different in species admit of
degree. We have discussed this matter previously.
2
The kinds of friendship may perhaps be cleared up if we first come
to know the object of love. For not everything seems to be loved but only
the lovable, and this is good, pleasant, or useful; but it would seem to
be that by which some good or pleasure is produced that is useful, so that
it is the good and the useful that are lovable as ends. Do men love, then,
the good, or what is good for them? These sometimes clash. So too with
regard to the pleasant. Now it is thought that each loves what is good
for himself, and that the good is without qualification lovable, and what
is good for each man is lovable for him; but each man loves not what is
good for him but what seems good. This however will make no difference;
we shall just have to say that this is 'that which seems lovable'. Now
there are three grounds on which people love; of the love of lifeless objects
we do not use the word 'friendship'; for it is not mutual love, nor is
there a wishing of good to the other (for it would surely be ridiculous
to wish wine well; if one wishes anything for it, it is that it may keep,
so that one may have it oneself); but to a friend we say we ought to wish
what is good for his sake. But to those who thus wish good we ascribe only
goodwill, if the wish is not reciprocated; goodwill when it is reciprocal
being friendship. Or must we add 'when it is recognized'? For many people
have goodwill to those whom they have not seen but judge to be good or
useful; and one of these might return this feeling. These people seem to
bear goodwill to each other; but how could one call them friends when they
do not know their mutual feelings? To be friends, then, the must be mutually
recognized as bearing goodwill and wishing well to each other for one of
the aforesaid reasons.
3
Now these reasons differ from each other in kind; so, therefore,
do the corresponding forms of love and friendship. There are therefore
three kinds of friendship, equal in number to the things that are lovable;
for with respect to each there is a mutual and recognized love, and those
who love each other wish well to each other in that respect in which they
love one another. Now those who love each other for their utility do not
love each other for themselves but in virtue of some good which they get
from each other. So too with those who love for the sake of pleasure; it
is not for their character that men love ready-witted people, but because
they find them pleasant. Therefore those who love for the sake of utility
love for the sake of what is good for themselves, and those who love for
the sake of pleasure do so for the sake of what is pleasant to themselves,
and not in so far as the other is the person loved but in so far as he
is useful or pleasant. And thus these friendships are only incidental;
for it is not as being the man he is that the loved person is loved, but
as providing some good or pleasure. Such friendships, then, are easily
dissolved, if the parties do not remain like themselves; for if the one
party is no longer pleasant or useful the other ceases to love
him.
Now the useful is not permanent but is always changing. Thus when
the motive of the friendship is done away, the friendship is dissolved,
inasmuch as it existed only for the ends in question. This kind of friendship
seems to exist chiefly between old people (for at that age people pursue
not the pleasant but the useful) and, of those who are in their prime or
young, between those who pursue utility. And such people do not live much
with each other either; for sometimes they do not even find each other
pleasant; therefore they do not need such companionship unless they are
useful to each other; for they are pleasant to each other only in so far
as they rouse in each other hopes of something good to come. Among such
friendships people also class the friendship of a host and guest. On the
other hand the friendship of young people seems to aim at pleasure; for
they live under the guidance of emotion, and pursue above all what is pleasant
to themselves and what is immediately before them; but with increasing
age their pleasures become different. This is why they quickly become friends
and quickly cease to be so; their friendship changes with the object that
is found pleasant, and such pleasure alters quickly. Young people are amorous
too; for the greater part of the friendship of love depends on emotion
and aims at pleasure; this is why they fall in love and quickly fall out
of love, changing often within a single day. But these people do wish to
spend their days and lives together; for it is thus that they attain the
purpose of their friendship.
Perfect friendship is the friendship of men who are good, and alike
in virtue; for these wish well alike to each other qua good, and they are
good themselves. Now those who wish well to their friends for their sake
are most truly friends; for they do this by reason of own nature and not
incidentally; therefore their friendship lasts as long as they are good-and
goodness is an enduring thing. And each is good without qualification and
to his friend, for the good are both good without qualification and useful
to each other. So too they are pleasant; for the good are pleasant both
without qualification and to each other, since to each his own activities
and others like them are pleasurable, and the actions of the good are the
same or like. And such a friendship is as might be expected permanent,
since there meet in it all the qualities that friends should have. For
all friendship is for the sake of good or of pleasure-good or pleasure
either in the abstract or such as will be enjoyed by him who has the friendly
feeling-and is based on a certain resemblance; and to a friendship of good
men all the qualities we have named belong in virtue of the nature of the
friends themselves; for in the case of this kind of friendship the other
qualities also are alike in both friends, and that which is good without
qualification is also without qualification pleasant, and these are the
most lovable qualities. Love and friendship therefore are found most and
in their best form between such men.
But it is natural that such friendships should be infrequent; for
such men are rare. Further, such friendship requires time and familiarity;
as the proverb says, men cannot know each other till they have 'eaten salt
together'; nor can they admit each other to friendship or be friends till
each has been found lovable and been trusted by each. Those who quickly
show the marks of friendship to each other wish to be friends, but are
not friends unless they both are lovable and know the fact; for a wish
for friendship may arise quickly, but friendship does
not.
4
This kind of friendship, then, is perfect both in respect of duration
and in all other respects, and in it each gets from each in all respects
the same as, or something like what, he gives; which is what ought to happen
between friends. Friendship for the sake of pleasure bears a resemblance
to this kind; for good people too are pleasant to each other. So too does
friendship for the sake of utility; for the good are also useful to each
other. Among men of these inferior sorts too, friendships are most permanent
when the friends get the same thing from each other (e.g. pleasure), and
not only that but also from the same source, as happens between readywitted
people, not as happens between lover and beloved. For these do not take
pleasure in the same things, but the one in seeing the beloved and the
other in receiving attentions from his lover; and when the bloom of youth
is passing the friendship sometimes passes too (for the one finds no pleasure
in the sight of the other, and the other gets no attentions from the first);
but many lovers on the other hand are constant, if familiarity has led
them to love each other's characters, these being alike. But those who
exchange not pleasure but utility in their amour are both less truly friends
and less constant. Those who are friends for the sake of utility part when
the advantage is at an end; for they were lovers not of each other but
of profit.
For the sake of pleasure or utility, then, even bad men may be
friends of each other, or good men of bad, or one who is neither good nor
bad may be a friend to any sort of person, but for their own sake clearly
only good men can be friends; for bad men do not delight in each other
unless some advantage come of the relation.
The friendship of the good too and this alone is proof against
slander; for it is not easy to trust any one talk about a man who has long
been tested by oneself; and it is among good men that trust and the feeling
that 'he would never wrong me' and all the other things that are demanded
in true friendship are found. In the other kinds of friendship, however,
there is nothing to prevent these evils arising. For men apply the name
of friends even to those whose motive is utility, in which sense states
are said to be friendly (for the alliances of states seem to aim at advantage),
and to those who love each other for the sake of pleasure, in which sense
children are called friends. Therefore we too ought perhaps to call such
people friends, and say that there are several kinds of friendship-firstly
and in the proper sense that of good men qua good, and by analogy the other
kinds; for it is in virtue of something good and something akin to what
is found in true friendship that they are friends, since even the pleasant
is good for the lovers of pleasure. But these two kinds of friendship are
not often united, nor do the same people become friends for the sake of
utility and of pleasure; for things that are only incidentally connected
are not often coupled together.
Friendship being divided into these kinds, bad men will be friends
for the sake of pleasure or of utility, being in this respect like each
other, but good men will be friends for their own sake, i.e. in virtue
of their goodness. These, then, are friends without qualification; the
others are friends incidentally and through a resemblance to
these.
5
As in regard to the virtues some men are called good in respect
of a state of character, others in respect of an activity, so too in the
case of friendship; for those who live together delight in each other and
confer benefits on each other, but those who are asleep or locally separated
are not performing, but are disposed to perform, the activities of friendship;
distance does not break off the friendship absolutely, but only the activity
of it. But if the absence is lasting, it seems actually to make men forget
their friendship; hence the saying 'out of sight, out of mind'. Neither
old people nor sour people seem to make friends easily; for there is little
that is pleasant in them, and no one can spend his days with one whose
company is painful, or not pleasant, since nature seems above all to avoid
the painful and to aim at the pleasant. Those, however, who approve of
each other but do not live together seem to be well-disposed rather than
actual friends. For there is nothing so characteristic of friends as living
together (since while it people who are in need that desire benefits, even
those who are supremely happy desire to spend their days together; for
solitude suits such people least of all); but people cannot live together
if they are not pleasant and do not enjoy the same things, as friends who
are companions seem to do.
The truest friendship, then, is that of the good, as we have frequently
said; for that which is without qualification good or pleasant seems to
be lovable and desirable, and for each person that which is good or pleasant
to him; and the good man is lovable and desirable to the good man for both
these reasons. Now it looks as if love were a feeling, friendship a state
of character; for love may be felt just as much towards lifeless things,
but mutual love involves choice and choice springs from a state of character;
and men wish well to those whom they love, for their sake, not as a result
of feeling but as a result of a state of character. And in loving a friend
men love what is good for themselves; for the good man in becoming a friend
becomes a good to his friend. Each, then, both loves what is good for himself,
and makes an equal return in goodwill and in pleasantness; for friendship
is said to be equality, and both of these are found most in the friendship
of the good.
6
Between sour and elderly people friendship arises less readily,
inasmuch as they are less good-tempered and enjoy companionship less; for
these are thou to be the greatest marks of friendship productive of it.
This is why, while men become friends quickly, old men do not; it is because
men do not become friends with those in whom they do not delight; and similarly
sour people do not quickly make friends either. But such men may bear goodwill
to each other; for they wish one another well and aid one another in need;
but they are hardly friends because they do not spend their days together
nor delight in each other, and these are thought the greatest marks of
friendship.
One cannot be a friend to many people in the sense of having friendship
of the perfect type with them, just as one cannot be in love with many
people at once (for love is a sort of excess of feeling, and it is the
nature of such only to be felt towards one person); and it is not easy
for many people at the same time to please the same person very greatly,
or perhaps even to be good in his eyes. One must, too, acquire some experience
of the other person and become familiar with him, and that is very hard.
But with a view to utility or pleasure it is possible that many people
should please one; for many people are useful or pleasant, and these services
take little time.
Of these two kinds that which is for the sake of pleasure is the
more like friendship, when both parties get the same things from each other
and delight in each other or in the things, as in the friendships of the
young; for generosity is more found in such friendships. Friendship based
on utility is for the commercially minded. People who are supremely happy,
too, have no need of useful friends, but do need pleasant friends; for
they wish to live with some one and, though they can endure for a short
time what is painful, no one could put up with it continuously, nor even
with the Good itself if it were painful to him; this is why they look out
for friends who are pleasant. Perhaps they should look out for friends
who, being pleasant, are also good, and good for them too; for so they
will have all the characteristics that friends should
have.
People in positions of authority seem to have friends who fall
into distinct classes; some people are useful to them and others are pleasant,
but the same people are rarely both; for they seek neither those whose
pleasantness is accompanied by virtue nor those whose utility is with a
view to noble objects, but in their desire for pleasure they seek for ready-witted
people, and their other friends they choose as being clever at doing what
they are told, and these characteristics are rarely combined. Now we have
said that the good man is at the same time pleasant and useful; but such
a man does not become the friend of one who surpasses him in station, unless
he is surpassed also in virtue; if this is not so, he does not establish
equality by being proportionally exceeded in both respects. But people
who surpass him in both respects are not so easy to
find.
However that may be, the aforesaid friendships involve equality;
for the friends get the same things from one another and wish the same
things for one another, or exchange one thing for another, e.g. pleasure
for utility; we have said, however, that they are both less truly friendships
and less permanent.
But it is from their likeness and their unlikeness to the same
thing that they are thought both to be and not to be friendships. It is
by their likeness to the friendship of virtue that they seem to be friendships
(for one of them involves pleasure and the other utility, and these characteristics
belong to the friendship of virtue as well); while it is because the friendship
of virtue is proof against slander and permanent, while these quickly change
(besides differing from the former in many other respects), that they appear
not to be friendships; i.e. it is because of their unlikeness to the friendship
of virtue.
7
But there is another kind of friendship, viz. that which involves
an inequality between the parties, e.g. that of father to son and in general
of elder to younger, that of man to wife and in general that of ruler to
subject. And these friendships differ also from each other; for it is not
the same that exists between parents and children and between rulers and
subjects, nor is even that of father to son the same as that of son to
father, nor that of husband to wife the same as that of wife to husband.
For the virtue and the function of each of these is different, and so are
the reasons for which they love; the love and the friendship are therefore
different also. Each party, then, neither gets the same from the other,
nor ought to seek it; but when children render to parents what they ought
to render to those who brought them into the world, and parents render
what they should to their children, the friendship of such persons will
be abiding and excellent. In all friendships implying inequality the love
also should be proportional, i.e. the better should be more loved than
he loves, and so should the more useful, and similarly in each of the other
cases; for when the love is in proportion to the merit of the parties,
then in a sense arises equality, which is certainly held to be characteristic
of friendship.
But equality does not seem to take the same form in acts of justice
and in friendship; for in acts of justice what is equal in the primary
sense is that which is in proportion to merit, while quantitative equality
is secondary, but in friendship quantitative equality is primary and proportion
to merit secondary. This becomes clear if there is a great interval in
respect of virtue or vice or wealth or anything else between the parties;
for then they are no longer friends, and do not even expect to be so. And
this is most manifest in the case of the gods; for they surpass us most
decisively in all good things. But it is clear also in the case of kings;
for with them, too, men who are much their inferiors do not expect to be
friends; nor do men of no account expect to be friends with the best or
wisest men. In such cases it is not possible to define exactly up to what
point friends can remain friends; for much can be taken away and friendship
remain, but when one party is removed to a great distance, as God is, the
possibility of friendship ceases. This is in fact the origin of the question
whether friends really wish for their friends the greatest goods, e.g.
that of being gods; since in that case their friends will no longer be
friends to them, and therefore will not be good things for them (for friends
are good things). The answer is that if we were right in saying that friend
wishes good to friend for his sake, his friend must remain the sort of
being he is, whatever that may be; therefore it is for him oily so long
as he remains a man that he will wish the greatest goods. But perhaps not
all the greatest goods; for it is for himself most of all that each man
wishes what is good.
8
Most people seem, owing to ambition, to wish to be loved rather
than to love; which is why most men love flattery; for the flatterer is
a friend in an inferior position, or pretends to be such and to love more
than he is loved; and being loved seems to be akin to being honoured, and
this is what most people aim at. But it seems to be not for its own sake
that people choose honour, but incidentally. For most people enjoy being
honoured by those in positions of authority because of their hopes (for
they think that if they want anything they will get it from them; and therefore
they delight in honour as a token of favour to come); while those who desire
honour from good men, and men who know, are aiming at confirming their
own opinion of themselves; they delight in honour, therefore, because they
believe in their own goodness on the strength of the judgement of those
who speak about them. In being loved, on the other hand, people delight
for its own sake; whence it would seem to be better than being honoured,
and friendship to be desirable in itself. But it seems to lie in loving
rather than in being loved, as is indicated by the delight mothers take
in loving; for some mothers hand over their children to be brought up,
and so long as they know their fate they love them and do not seek to be
loved in return (if they cannot have both), but seem to be satisfied if
they see them prospering; and they themselves love their children even
if these owing to their ignorance give them nothing of a mother's due.
Now since friendship depends more on loving, and it is those who love their
friends that are praised, loving seems to be the characteristic virtue
of friends, so that it is only those in whom this is found in due measure
that are lasting friends, and only their friendship that
endures.
It is in this way more than any other that even unequals can be
friends; they can be equalized. Now equality and likeness are friendship,
and especially the likeness of those who are like in virtue; for being
steadfast in themselves they hold fast to each other, and neither ask nor
give base services, but (one may say) even prevent them; for it is characteristic
of good men neither to go wrong themselves nor to let their friends do
so. But wicked men have no steadfastness (for they do not remain even like
to themselves), but become friends for a short time because they delight
in each other's wickedness. Friends who are useful or pleasant last longer;
i.e. as long as they provide each other with enjoyments or advantages.
Friendship for utility's sake seems to be that which most easily exists
between contraries, e.g. between poor and rich, between ignorant and learned;
for what a man actually lacks he aims at, and one gives something else
in return. But under this head, too, might bring lover and beloved, beautiful
and ugly. This is why lovers sometimes seem ridiculous, when they demand
to be loved as they love; if they are equally lovable their claim can perhaps
be justified, but when they have nothing lovable about them it is ridiculous.
Perhaps, however, contrary does not even aim at contrary by its own nature,
but only incidentally, the desire being for what is intermediate; for that
is what is good, e.g. it is good for the dry not to become wet but to come
to the intermediate state, and similarly with the hot and in all other
cases. These subjects we may dismiss; for they are indeed somewhat foreign
to our inquiry.
9
Friendship and justice seem, as we have said at the outset of our
discussion, to be concerned with the same objects and exhibited between
the same persons. For in every community there is thought to be some form
of justice, and friendship too; at least men address as friends their fellow-voyagers
and fellowsoldiers, and so too those associated with them in any other
kind of community. And the extent of their association is the extent of
their friendship, as it is the extent to which justice exists between them.
And the proverb 'what friends have is common property' expresses the truth;
for friendship depends on community. Now brothers and comrades have all
things in common, but the others to whom we have referred have definite
things in common-some more things, others fewer; for of friendships, too,
some are more and others less truly friendships. And the claims of justice
differ too; the duties of parents to children, and those of brothers to
each other are not the same, nor those of comrades and those of fellow-citizens,
and so, too, with the other kinds of friendship. There is a difference,
therefore, also between the acts that are unjust towards each of these
classes of associates, and the injustice increases by being exhibited towards
those who are friends in a fuller sense; e.g. it is a more terrible thing
to defraud a comrade than a fellow-citizen, more terrible not to help a
brother than a stranger, and more terrible to wound a father than any one
else. And the demands of justice also seem to increase with the intensity
of the friendship, which implies that friendship and justice exist between
the same persons and have an equal extension.
Now all forms of community are like parts of the political community;
for men journey together with a view to some particular advantage, and
to provide something that they need for the purposes of life; and it is
for the sake of advantage that the political community too seems both to
have come together originally and to endure, for this is what legislators
aim at, and they call just that which is to the common advantage. Now the
other communities aim at advantage bit by bit, e.g. sailors at what is
advantageous on a voyage with a view to making money or something of the
kind, fellow-soldiers at what is advantageous in war, whether it is wealth
or victory or the taking of a city that they seek, and members of tribes
and demes act similarly (Some communities seem to arise for the sake or
pleasure, viz. religious guilds and social clubs; for these exist respectively
for the sake of offering sacrifice and of companionship. But all these
seem to fall under the political community; for it aims not at present
advantage but at what is advantageous for life as a whole), offering sacrifices
and arranging gatherings for the purpose, and assigning honours to the
gods, and providing pleasant relaxations for themselves. For the ancient
sacrifices and gatherings seem to take place after the harvest as a sort
of firstfruits, because it was at these seasons that people had most leisure.
All the communities, then, seem to be parts of the political community;
and the particular kinds friendship will correspond to the particular kinds
of community.
10
There are three kinds of constitution, and an equal number of deviation-forms--perversions,
as it were, of them. The constitutions are monarchy, aristocracy, and thirdly
that which is based on a property qualification, which it seems appropriate
to call timocratic, though most people are wont to call it polity. The
best of these is monarchy, the worst timocracy. The deviation from monarchy
is tyrany; for both are forms of one-man rule, but there is the greatest
difference between them; the tyrant looks to his own advantage, the king
to that of his subjects. For a man is not a king unless he is sufficient
to himself and excels his subjects in all good things; and such a man needs
nothing further; therefore he will not look to his own interests but to
those of his subjects; for a king who is not like that would be a mere
titular king. Now tyranny is the very contrary of this; the tyrant pursues
his own good. And it is clearer in the case of tyranny that it is the worst
deviation-form; but it is the contrary of the best that is worst. Monarchy
passes over into tyranny; for tyranny is the evil form of one-man rule
and the bad king becomes a tyrant. Aristocracy passes over into oligarchy
by the badness of the rulers, who distribute contrary to equity what belongs
to the city-all or most of the good things to themselves, and office always
to the same people, paying most regard to wealth; thus the rulers are few
and are bad men instead of the most worthy. Timocracy passes over into
democracy; for these are coterminous, since it is the ideal even of timocracy
to be the rule of the majority, and all who have the property qualification
count as equal. Democracy is the least bad of the deviations; for in its
case the form of constitution is but a slight deviation. These then are
the changes to which constitutions are most subject; for these are the
smallest and easiest transitions.
One may find resemblances to the constitutions and, as it were,
patterns of them even in households. For the association of a father with
his sons bears the form of monarchy, since the father cares for his children;
and this is why Homer calls Zeus 'father'; it is the ideal of monarchy
to be paternal rule. But among the Persians the rule of the father is tyrannical;
they use their sons as slaves. Tyrannical too is the rule of a master over
slaves; for it is the advantage of the master that is brought about in
it. Now this seems to be a correct form of government, but the Persian
type is perverted; for the modes of rule appropriate to different relations
are diverse. The association of man and wife seems to be aristocratic;
for the man rules in accordance with his worth, and in those matters in
which a man should rule, but the matters that befit a woman he hands over
to her. If the man rules in everything the relation passes over into oligarchy;
for in doing so he is not acting in accordance with their respective worth,
and not ruling in virtue of his superiority. Sometimes, however, women
rule, because they are heiresses; so their rule is not in virtue of excellence
but due to wealth and power, as in oligarchies. The association of brothers
is like timocracy; for they are equal, except in so far as they differ
in age; hence if they differ much in age, the friendship is no longer of
the fraternal type. Democracy is found chiefly in masterless dwellings
(for here every one is on an equality), and in those in which the ruler
is weak and every one has licence to do as he pleases.
11
Each of the constitutions may be seen to involve friendship just
in so far as it involves justice. The friendship between a king and his
subjects depends on an excess of benefits conferred; for he confers benefits
on his subjects if being a good man he cares for them with a view to their
well-being, as a shepherd does for his sheep (whence Homer called Agamemnon
'shepherd of the peoples'). Such too is the friendship of a father, though
this exceeds the other in the greatness of the benefits conferred; for
he is responsible for the existence of his children, which is thought the
greatest good, and for their nurture and upbringing.
These things are ascribed to ancestors as well. Further, by nature
a father tends to rule over his sons, ancestors over descendants, a king
over his subjects. These friendships imply superiority of one party over
the other, which is why ancestors are honoured. The justice therefore that
exists between persons so related is not the same on both sides but is
in every case proportioned to merit; for that is true of the friendship
as well. The friendship of man and wife, again, is the same that is found
in an aristocracy; for it is in accordance with virtue the better gets
more of what is good, and each gets what befits him; and so, too, with
the justice in these relations. The friendship of brothers is like that
of comrades; for they are equal and of like age, and such persons are for
the most part like in their feelings and their character. Like this, too,
is the friendship appropriate to timocratic government; for in such a constitution
the ideal is for the citizens to be equal and fair; therefore rule is taken
in turn, and on equal terms; and the friendship appropriate here will
correspond.
But in the deviation-forms, as justice hardly exists, so too does
friendship. It exists least in the worst form; in tyranny there is little
or no friendship. For where there is nothing common to ruler and ruled,
there is not friendship either, since there is not justice; e.g. between
craftsman and tool, soul and body, master and slave; the latter in each
case is benefited by that which uses it, but there is no friendship nor
justice towards lifeless things. But neither is there friendship towards
a horse or an ox, nor to a slave qua slave. For there is nothing common
to the two parties; the slave is a living tool and the tool a lifeless
slave. Qua slave then, one cannot be friends with him. But qua man one
can; for there seems to be some justice between any man and any other who
can share in a system of law or be a party to an agreement; therefore there
can also be friendship with him in so far as he is a man. Therefore while
in tyrannies friendship and justice hardly exist, in democracies they exist
more fully; for where the citizens are equal they have much in
common.
12
Every form of friendship, then, involves association, as has been
said. One might, however, mark off from the rest both the friendship of
kindred and that of comrades. Those of fellow-citizens, fellow-tribesmen,
fellow-voyagers, and the like are more like mere friendships of association;
for they seem to rest on a sort of compact. With them we might class the
friendship of host and guest. The friendship of kinsmen itself, while it
seems to be of many kinds, appears to depend in every case on parental
friendship; for parents love their children as being a part of themselves,
and children their parents as being something originating from them. Now
(1) arents know their offspring better than there children know that they
are their children, and (2) the originator feels his offspring to be his
own more than the offspring do their begetter; for the product belongs
to the producer (e.g. a tooth or hair or anything else to him whose it
is), but the producer does not belong to the product, or belongs in a less
degree. And (3) the length of time produces the same result; parents love
their children as soon as these are born, but children love their parents
only after time has elapsed and they have acquired understanding or the
power of discrimination by the senses. From these considerations it is
also plain why mothers love more than fathers do. Parents, then, love their
children as themselves (for their issue are by virtue of their separate
existence a sort of other selves), while children love their parents as
being born of them, and brothers love each other as being born of the same
parents; for their identity with them makes them identical with each other
(which is the reason why people talk of 'the same blood', 'the same stock',
and so on). They are, therefore, in a sense the same thing, though in separate
individuals. Two things that contribute greatly to friendship are a common
upbringing and similarity of age; for 'two of an age take to each other',
and people brought up together tend to be comrades; whence the friendship
of brothers is akin to that of comrades. And cousins and other kinsmen
are bound up together by derivation from brothers, viz. by being derived
from the same parents. They come to be closer together or farther apart
by virtue of the nearness or distance of the original
ancestor.
The friendship of children to parents, and of men to gods, is a
relation to them as to something good and superior; for they have conferred
the greatest benefits, since they are the causes of their being and of
their nourishment, and of their education from their birth; and this kind
of friendship possesses pleasantness and utility also, more than that of
strangers, inasmuch as their life is lived more in common. The friendship
of brothers has the characteristics found in that of comrades (and especially
when these are good), and in general between people who are like each other,
inasmuch as they belong more to each other and start with a love for each
other from their very birth, and inasmuch as those born of the same parents
and brought up together and similarly educated are more akin in character;
and the test of time has been applied most fully and convincingly in their
case.
Between other kinsmen friendly relations are found in due proportion.
Between man and wife friendship seems to exist by nature; for man is naturally
inclined to form couples-even more than to form cities, inasmuch as the
household is earlier and more necessary than the city, and reproduction
is more common to man with the animals. With the other animals the union
extends only to this point, but human beings live together not only for
the sake of reproduction but also for the various purposes of life; for
from the start the functions are divided, and those of man and woman are
different; so they help each other by throwing their peculiar gifts into
the common stock. It is for these reasons that both utility and pleasure
seem to be found in this kind of friendship. But this friendship may be
based also on virtue, if the parties are good; for each has its own virtue
and they will delight in the fact. And children seem to be a bond of union
(which is the reason why childless people part more easily); for children
are a good common to both and what is common holds them
together.
How man and wife and in general friend and friend ought mutually
to behave seems to be the same question as how it is just for them to behave;
for a man does not seem to have the same duties to a friend, a stranger,
a comrade, and a schoolfellow.
13
There are three kinds of friendship, as we said at the outset of
our inquiry, and in respect of each some are friends on an equality and
others by virtue of a superiority (for not only can equally good men become
friends but a better man can make friends with a worse, and similarly in
friendships of pleasure or utility the friends may be equal or unequal
in the benefits they confer). This being so, equals must effect the required
equalization on a basis of equality in love and in all other respects,
while unequals must render what is in proportion to their superiority or
inferiority. Complaints and reproaches arise either only or chiefly in
the friendship of utility, and this is only to be expected. For those who
are friends on the ground of virtue are anxious to do well by each other
(since that is a mark of virtue and of friendship), and between men who
are emulating each other in this there cannot be complaints or quarrels;
no one is offended by a man who loves him and does well by him-if he is
a person of nice feeling he takes his revenge by doing well by the other.
And the man who excels the other in the services he renders will not complain
of his friend, since he gets what he aims at; for each man desires what
is good. Nor do complaints arise much even in friendships of pleasure;
for both get at the same time what they desire, if they enjoy spending
their time together; and even a man who complained of another for not affording
him pleasure would seem ridiculous, since it is in his power not to spend
his days with him.
But the friendship of utility is full of complaints; for as they
use each other for their own interests they always want to get the better
of the bargain, and think they have got less than they should, and blame
their partners because they do not get all they 'want and deserve'; and
those who do well by others cannot help them as much as those whom they
benefit want.
Now it seems that, as justice is of two kinds, one unwritten and
the other legal, one kind of friendship of utility is moral and the other
legal. And so complaints arise most of all when men do not dissolve the
relation in the spirit of the same type of friendship in which they contracted
it. The legal type is that which is on fixed terms; its purely commercial
variety is on the basis of immediate payment, while the more liberal variety
allows time but stipulates for a definite quid pro quo. In this variety
the debt is clear and not ambiguous, but in the postponement it contains
an element of friendliness; and so some states do not allow suits arising
out of such agreements, but think men who have bargained on a basis of
credit ought to accept the consequences. The moral type is not on fixed
terms; it makes a gift, or does whatever it does, as to a friend; but one
expects to receive as much or more, as having not given but lent; and if
a man is worse off when the relation is dissolved than he was when it was
contracted he will complain. This happens because all or most men, while
they wish for what is noble, choose what is advantageous; now it is noble
to do well by another without a view to repayment, but it is the receiving
of benefits that is advantageous. Therefore if we can we should return
the equivalent of what we have received (for we must not make a man our
friend against his will; we must recognize that we were mistaken at the
first and took a benefit from a person we should not have taken it from-since
it was not from a friend, nor from one who did it just for the sake of
acting so-and we must settle up just as if we had been benefited on fixed
terms). Indeed, one would agree to repay if one could (if one could not,
even the giver would not have expected one to do so); therefore if it is
possible we must repay. But at the outset we must consider the man by whom
we are being benefited and on what terms he is acting, in order that we
may accept the benefit on these terms, or else decline
it.
It is disputable whether we ought to measure a service by its utility
to the receiver and make the return with a view to that, or by the benevolence
of the giver. For those who have received say they have received from their
benefactors what meant little to the latter and what they might have got
from others-minimizing the service; while the givers, on the contrary,
say it was the biggest thing they had, and what could not have been got
from others, and that it was given in times of danger or similar need.
Now if the friendship is one that aims at utility, surely the advantage
to the receiver is the measure. For it is he that asks for the service,
and the other man helps him on the assumption that he will receive the
equivalent; so the assistance has been precisely as great as the advantage
to the receiver, and therefore he must return as much as he has received,
or even more (for that would be nobler). In friendships based on virtue
on the other hand, complaints do not arise, but the purpose of the doer
is a sort of measure; for in purpose lies the essential element of virtue
and character.
14
Differences arise also in friendships based on superiority; for
each expects to get more out of them, but when this happens the friendship
is dissolved. Not only does the better man think he ought to get more,
since more should be assigned to a good man, but the more useful similarly
expects this; they say a useless man should not get as much as they should,
since it becomes an act of public service and not a friendship if the proceeds
of the friendship do not answer to the worth of the benefits conferred.
For they think that, as in a commercial partnership those who put more
in get more out, so it should be in friendship. But the man who is in a
state of need and inferiority makes the opposite claim; they think it is
the part of a good friend to help those who are in need; what, they say,
is the use of being the friend of a good man or a powerful man, if one
is to get nothing out of it?
At all events it seems that each party is justified in his claim,
and that each should get more out of the friendship than the other-not
more of the same thing, however, but the superior more honour and the inferior
more gain; for honour is the prize of virtue and of beneficence, while
gain is the assistance required by inferiority.
It seems to be so in constitutional arrangements also; the man
who contributes nothing good to the common stock is not honoured; for what
belongs to the public is given to the man who benefits the public, and
honour does belong to the public. It is not possible to get wealth from
the common stock and at the same time honour. For no one puts up with the
smaller share in all things; therefore to the man who loses in wealth they
assign honour and to the man who is willing to be paid, wealth, since the
proportion to merit equalizes the parties and preserves the friendship,
as we have said. This then is also the way in which we should associate
with unequals; the man who is benefited in respect of wealth or virtue
must give honour in return, repaying what he can. For friendship asks a
man to do what he can, not what is proportional to the merits of the case;
since that cannot always be done, e.g. in honours paid to the gods or to
parents; for no one could ever return to them the equivalent of what he
gets, but the man who serves them to the utmost of his power is thought
to be a good man. This is why it would not seem open to a man to disown
his father (though a father may disown his son); being in debt, he should
repay, but there is nothing by doing which a son will have done the equivalent
of what he has received, so that he is always in debt. But creditors can
remit a debt; and a father can therefore do so too. At the same time it
is thought that presumably no one would repudiate a son who was not far
gone in wickedness; for apart from the natural friendship of father and
son it is human nature not to reject a son's assistance. But the son, if
he is wicked, will naturally avoid aiding his father, or not be zealous
about it; for most people wish to get benefits, but avoid doing them, as
a thing unprofitable.-So much for these questions.
Nicomachean Ethics
By Aristotle
Book IX
1
In all friendships between dissimilars it is, as we have said,
proportion that equalizes the parties and preserves the friendship; e.g.
in the political form of friendship the shoemaker gets a return for his
shoes in proportion to his worth, and the weaver and all other craftsmen
do the same. Now here a common measure has been provided in the form of
money, and therefore everything is referred to this and measured by this;
but in the friendship of lovers sometimes the lover complains that his
excess of love is not met by love in return though perhaps there is nothing
lovable about him), while often the beloved complains that the lover who
formerly promised everything now performs nothing. Such incidents happen
when the lover loves the beloved for the sake of pleasure while the beloved
loves the lover for the sake of utility, and they do not both possess the
qualities expected of them. If these be the objects of the friendship it
is dissolved when they do not get the things that formed the motives of
their love; for each did not love the other person himself but the qualities
he had, and these were not enduring; that is why the friendships also are
transient. But the love of characters, as has been said, endures because
it is self-dependent. Differences arise when what they get is something
different and not what they desire; for it is like getting nothing at all
when we do not get what we aim at; compare the story of the person who
made promises to a lyre-player, promising him the more, the better he sang,
but in the morning, when the other demanded the fulfilment of his promises,
said that he had given pleasure for pleasure. Now if this had been what
each wanted, all would have been well; but if the one wanted enjoyment
but the other gain, and the one has what he wants while the other has not,
the terms of the association will not have been properly fulfilled; for
what each in fact wants is what he attends to, and it is for the sake of
that that that he will give what he has.
But who is to fix the worth of the service; he who makes the sacrifice
or he who has got the advantage? At any rate the other seems to leave it
to him. This is what they say Protagoras used to do; whenever he taught
anything whatsoever, he bade the learner assess the value of the knowledge,
and accepted the amount so fixed. But in such matters some men approve
of the saying 'let a man have his fixed reward'. Those who get the money
first and then do none of the things they said they would, owing to the
extravagance of their promises, naturally find themselves the objects of
complaint; for they do not fulfil what they agreed to. The sophists are
perhaps compelled to do this because no one would give money for the things
they do know. These people then, if they do not do what they have been
paid for, are naturally made the objects of complaint.
But where there is no contract of service, those who give up something
for the sake of the other party cannot (as we have said) be complained
of (for that is the nature of the friendship of virtue), and the return
to them must be made on the basis of their purpose (for it is purpose that
is the characteristic thing in a friend and in virtue). And so too, it
seems, should one make a return to those with whom one has studied philosophy;
for their worth cannot be measured against money, and they can get no honour
which will balance their services, but still it is perhaps enough, as it
is with the gods and with one's parents, to give them what one
can.
If the gift was not of this sort, but was made with a view to a
return, it is no doubt preferable that the return made should be one that
seems fair to both parties, but if this cannot be achieved, it would seem
not only necessary that the person who gets the first service should fix
the reward, but also just; for if the other gets in return the equivalent
of the advantage the beneficiary has received, or the price lie would have
paid for the pleasure, he will have got what is fair as from the
other.
We see this happening too with things put up for sale, and in some
places there are laws providing that no actions shall arise out of voluntary
contracts, on the assumption that one should settle with a person to whom
one has given credit, in the spirit in which one bargained with him. The
law holds that it is more just that the person to whom credit was given
should fix the terms than that the person who gave credit should do so.
For most things are not assessed at the same value by those who have them
and those who want them; each class values highly what is its own and what
it is offering; yet the return is made on the terms fixed by the receiver.
But no doubt the receiver should assess a thing not at what it seems worth
when he has it, but at what he assessed it at before he had
it.
2
A further problem is set by such questions as, whether one should
in all things give the preference to one's father and obey him, or whether
when one is ill one should trust a doctor, and when one has to elect a
general should elect a man of military skill; and similarly whether one
should render a service by preference to a friend or to a good man, and
should show gratitude to a benefactor or oblige a friend, if one cannot
do both.
All such questions are hard, are they not, to decide with precision?
For they admit of many variations of all sorts in respect both of the magnitude
of the service and of its nobility necessity. But that we should not give
the preference in all things to the same person is plain enough; and we
must for the most part return benefits rather than oblige friends, as we
must pay back a loan to a creditor rather than make one to a friend. But
perhaps even this is not always true; e.g. should a man who has been ransomed
out of the hands of brigands ransom his ransomer in return, whoever he
may be (or pay him if he has not been captured but demands payment) or
should he ransom his father? It would seem that he should ransom his father
in preference even to himself. As we have said, then, generally the debt
should be paid, but if the gift is exceedingly noble or exceedingly necessary,
one should defer to these considerations. For sometimes it is not even
fair to return the equivalent of what one has received, when the one man
has done a service to one whom he knows to be good, while the other makes
a return to one whom he believes to be bad. For that matter, one should
sometimes not lend in return to one who has lent to oneself; for the one
person lent to a good man, expecting to recover his loan, while the other
has no hope of recovering from one who is believed to be bad. Therefore
if the facts really are so, the demand is not fair; and if they are not,
but people think they are, they would be held to be doing nothing strange
in refusing. As we have often pointed out, then, discussions about feelings
and actions have just as much definiteness as their
subject-matter.
That we should not make the same return to every one, nor give
a father the preference in everything, as one does not sacrifice everything
to Zeus, is plain enough; but since we ought to render different things
to parents, brothers, comrades, and benefactors, we ought to render to
each class what is appropriate and becoming. And this is what people seem
in fact to do; to marriages they invite their kinsfolk; for these have
a part in the family and therefore in the doings that affect the family;
and at funerals also they think that kinsfolk, before all others, should
meet, for the same reason. And it would be thought that in the matter of
food we should help our parents before all others, since we owe our own
nourishment to them, and it is more honourable to help in this respect
the authors of our being even before ourselves; and honour too one should
give to one's parents as one does to the gods, but not any and every honour;
for that matter one should not give the same honour to one's father and
one's mother, nor again should one give them the honour due to a philosopher
or to a general, but the honour due to a father, or again to a mother.
To all older persons, too, one should give honour appropriate to their
age, by rising to receive them and finding seats for them and so on; while
to comrades and brothers one should allow freedom of speech and common
use of all things. To kinsmen, too, and fellow-tribesmen and fellow-citizens
and to every other class one should always try to assign what is appropriate,
and to compare the claims of each class with respect to nearness of relation
and to virtue or usefulness. The comparison is easier when the persons
belong to the same class, and more laborious when they are different. Yet
we must not on that account shrink from the task, but decide the question
as best we can.
3
Another question that arises is whether friendships should or should
not be broken off when the other party does not remain the same. Perhaps
we may say that there is nothing strange in breaking off a friendship based
on utility or pleasure, when our friends no longer have these attributes.
For it was of these attributes that we were the friends; and when these
have failed it is reasonable to love no longer. But one might complain
of another if, when he loved us for our usefulness or pleasantness, he
pretended to love us for our character. For, as we said at the outset,
most differences arise between friends when they are not friends in the
spirit in which they think they are. So when a man has deceived himself
and has thought he was being loved for his character, when the other person
was doing nothing of the kind, he must blame himself; when he has been
deceived by the pretences of the other person, it is just that he should
complain against his deceiver; he will complain with more justice than
one does against people who counterfeit the currency, inasmuch as the wrongdoing
is concerned with something more valuable.
But if one accepts another man as good, and he turns out badly
and is seen to do so, must one still love him? Surely it is impossible,
since not everything can be loved, but only what is good. What is evil
neither can nor should be loved; for it is not one's duty to be a lover
of evil, nor to become like what is bad; and we have said that like is
dear like. Must the friendship, then, be forthwith broken off? Or is this
not so in all cases, but only when one's friends are incurable in their
wickedness? If they are capable of being reformed one should rather come
to the assistance of their character or their property, inasmuch as this
is better and more characteristic of friendship. But a man who breaks off
such a friendship would seem to be doing nothing strange; for it was not
to a man of this sort that he was a friend; when his friend has changed,
therefore, and he is unable to save him, he gives him
up.
But if one friend remained the same while the other became better
and far outstripped him in virtue, should the latter treat the former as
a friend? Surely he cannot. When the interval is great this becomes most
plain, e.g. in the case of childish friendships; if one friend remained
a child in intellect while the other became a fully developed man, how
could they be friends when they neither approved of the same things nor
delighted in and were pained by the same things? For not even with regard
to each other will their tastes agree, and without this (as we saw) they
cannot be friends; for they cannot live together. But we have discussed
these matters.
Should he, then, behave no otherwise towards him than he would
if he had never been his friend? Surely he should keep a remembrance of
their former intimacy, and as we think we ought to oblige friends rather
than strangers, so to those who have been our friends we ought to make
some allowance for our former friendship, when the breach has not been
due to excess of wickedness.
4
Friendly relations with one's neighbours, and the marks by which
friendships are defined, seem to have proceeded from a man's relations
to himself. For (1) we define a friend as one who wishes and does what
is good, or seems so, for the sake of his friend, or (2) as one who wishes
his friend to exist and live, for his sake; which mothers do to their children,
and friends do who have come into conflict. And (3) others define him as
one who lives with and (4) has the same tastes as another, or (5) one who
grieves and rejoices with his friend; and this too is found in mothers
most of all. It is by some one of these characterstics that friendship
too is defined.
Now each of these is true of the good man's relation to himself
(and of all other men in so far as they think themselves good; virtue and
the good man seem, as has been said, to be the measure of every class of
things). For his opinions are harmonious, and he desires the same things
with all his soul; and therefore he wishes for himself what is good and
what seems so, and does it (for it is characteristic of the good man to
work out the good), and does so for his own sake (for he does it for the
sake of the intellectual element in him, which is thought to be the man
himself); and he wishes himself to live and be preserved, and especially
the element by virtue of which he thinks. For existence is good to the
virtuous man, and each man wishes himself what is good, while no one chooses
to possess the whole world if he has first to become some one else (for
that matter, even now God possesses the good); he wishes for this only
on condition of being whatever he is; and the element that thinks would
seem to be the individual man, or to be so more than any other element
in him. And such a man wishes to live with himself; for he does so with
pleasure, since the memories of his past acts are delightful and his hopes
for the future are good, and therefore pleasant. His mind is well stored
too with subjects of contemplation. And he grieves and rejoices, more than
any other, with himself; for the same thing is always painful, and the
same thing always pleasant, and not one thing at one time and another at
another; he has, so to speak, nothing to repent of.
Therefore, since each of these characteristics belongs to the good
man in relation to himself, and he is related to his friend as to himself
(for his friend is another self), friendship too is thought to be one of
these attributes, and those who have these attributes to be friends. Whether
there is or is not friendship between a man and himself is a question we
may dismiss for the present; there would seem to be friendship in so far
as he is two or more, to judge from the afore-mentioned attributes of friendship,
and from the fact that the extreme of friendship is likened to one's love
for oneself.
But the attributes named seem to belong even to the majority of
men, poor creatures though they may be. Are we to say then that in so far
as they are satisfied with themselves and think they are good, they share
in these attributes? Certainly no one who is thoroughly bad and impious
has these attributes, or even seems to do so. They hardly belong even to
inferior people; for they are at variance with themselves, and have appetites
for some things and rational desires for others. This is true, for instance,
of incontinent people; for they choose, instead of the things they themselves
think good, things that are pleasant but hurtful; while others again, through
cowardice and laziness, shrink from doing what they think best for themselves.
And those who have done many terrible deeds and are hated for their wickedness
even shrink from life and destroy themselves. And wicked men seek for people
with whom to spend their days, and shun themselves; for they remember many
a grevious deed, and anticipate others like them, when they are by themselves,
but when they are with others they forget. And having nothing lovable in
them they have no feeling of love to themselves. Therefore also such men
do not rejoice or grieve with themselves; for their soul is rent by faction,
and one element in it by reason of its wickedness grieves when it abstains
from certain acts, while the other part is pleased, and one draws them
this way and the other that, as if they were pulling them in pieces. If
a man cannot at the same time be pained and pleased, at all events after
a short time he is pained because he was pleased, and he could have wished
that these things had not been pleasant to him; for bad men are laden with
repentance.
Therefore the bad man does not seem to be amicably disposed even
to himself, because there is nothing in him to love; so that if to be thus
is the height of wretchedness, we should strain every nerve to avoid wickedness
and should endeavour to be good; for so and only so can one be either friendly
to oneself or a friend to another.
5
Goodwill is a friendly sort of relation, but is not identical with
friendship; for one may have goodwill both towards people whom one does
not know, and without their knowing it, but not friendship. This has indeed
been said already.' But goodwill is not even friendly feeling. For it does
not involve intensity or desire, whereas these accompany friendly feeling;
and friendly feeling implies intimacy while goodwill may arise of a sudden,
as it does towards competitors in a contest; we come to feel goodwill for
them and to share in their wishes, but we would not do anything with them;
for, as we said, we feel goodwill suddenly and love them only
superficially.
Goodwill seems, then, to be a beginning of friendship, as the pleasure
of the eye is the beginning of love. For no one loves if he has not first
been delighted by the form of the beloved, but he who delights in the form
of another does not, for all that, love him, but only does so when he also
longs for him when absent and craves for his presence; so too it is not
possible for people to be friends if they have not come to feel goodwill
for each other, but those who feel goodwill are not for all that friends;
for they only wish well to those for whom they feel goodwill, and would
not do anything with them nor take trouble for them. And so one might by
an extension of the term friendship say that goodwill is inactive friendship,
though when it is prolonged and reaches the point of intimacy it becomes
friendship-not the friendship based on utility nor that based on pleasure;
for goodwill too does not arise on those terms. The man who has received
a benefit bestows goodwill in return for what has been done to him, but
in doing so is only doing what is just; while he who wishes some one to
prosper because he hopes for enrichment through him seems to have goodwill
not to him but rather to himself, just as a man is not a friend to another
if he cherishes him for the sake of some use to be made of him. In general,
goodwill arises on account of some excellence and worth, when one man seems
to another beautiful or brave or something of the sort, as we pointed out
in the case of competitors in a contest.
6
Unanimity also seems to be a friendly relation. For this reason
it is not identity of opinion; for that might occur even with people who
do not know each other; nor do we say that people who have the same views
on any and every subject are unanimous, e.g. those who agree about the
heavenly bodies (for unanimity about these is not a friendly relation),
but we do say that a city is unanimous when men have the same opinion about
what is to their interest, and choose the same actions, and do what they
have resolved in common. It is about things to be done, therefore, that
people are said to be unanimous, and, among these, about matters of consequence
and in which it is possible for both or all parties to get what they want;
e.g. a city is unanimous when all its citizens think that the offices in
it should be elective, or that they should form an alliance with Sparta,
or that Pittacus should be their ruler-at a time when he himself was also
willing to rule. But when each of two people wishes himself to have the
thing in question, like the captains in the Phoenissae, they are in a state
of faction; for it is not unanimity when each of two parties thinks of
the same thing, whatever that may be, but only when they think of the same
thing in the same hands, e.g. when both the common people and those of
the better class wish the best men to rule; for thus and thus alone do
all get what they aim at. Unanimity seems, then, to be political friendship,
as indeed it is commonly said to be; for it is concerned with things that
are to our interest and have an influence on our life.
Now such unanimity is found among good men; for they are unanimous
both in themselves and with one another, being, so to say, of one mind
(for the wishes of such men are constant and not at the mercy of opposing
currents like a strait of the sea), and they wish for what is just and
what is advantageous, and these are the objects of their common endeavour
as well. But bad men cannot be unanimous except to a small extent, any
more than they can be friends, since they aim at getting more than their
share of advantages, while in labour and public service they fall short
of their share; and each man wishing for advantage to himself criticizes
his neighbour and stands in his way; for if people do not watch it carefully
the common weal is soon destroyed. The result is that they are in a state
of faction, putting compulsion on each other but unwilling themselves to
do what is just.
7
Benefactors are thought to love those they have benefited, more
than those who have been well treated love those that have treated them
well, and this is discussed as though it were paradoxical. Most people
think it is because the latter are in the position of debtors and the former
of creditors; and therefore as, in the case of loans, debtors wish their
creditors did not exist, while creditors actually take care of the safety
of their debtors, so it is thought that benefactors wish the objects of
their action to exist since they will then get their gratitude, while the
beneficiaries take no interest in making this return. Epicharmus would
perhaps declare that they say this because they 'look at things on their
bad side', but it is quite like human nature; for most people are forgetful,
and are more anxious to be well treated than to treat others well. But
the cause would seem to be more deeply rooted in the nature of things;
the case of those who have lent money is not even analogous. For they have
no friendly feeling to their debtors, but only a wish that they may kept
safe with a view to what is to be got from them; while those who have done
a service to others feel friendship and love for those they have served
even if these are not of any use to them and never will be. This is what
happens with craftsmen too; every man loves his own handiwork better than
he would be loved by it if it came alive; and this happens perhaps most
of all with poets; for they have an excessive love for their own poems,
doting on them as if they were their children. This is what the position
of benefactors is like; for that which they have treated well is their
handiwork, and therefore they love this more than the handiwork does its
maker. The cause of this is that existence is to all men a thing to be
chosen and loved, and that we exist by virtue of activity (i.e. by living
and acting), and that the handiwork is in a sense, the producer in activity;
he loves his handiwork, therefore, because he loves existence. And this
is rooted in the nature of things; for what he is in potentiality, his
handiwork manifests in activity.
At the same time to the benefactor that is noble which depends
on his action, so that he delights in the object of his action, whereas
to the patient there is nothing noble in the agent, but at most something
advantageous, and this is less pleasant and lovable. What is pleasant is
the activity of the present, the hope of the future, the memory of the
past; but most pleasant is that which depends on activity, and similarly
this is most lovable. Now for a man who has made something his work remains
(for the noble is lasting), but for the person acted on the utility passes
away. And the memory of noble things is pleasant, but that of useful things
is not likely to be pleasant, or is less so; though the reverse seems true
of expectation.
Further, love is like activity, being loved like passivity; and
loving and its concomitants are attributes of those who are the more
active.
Again, all men love more what they have won by labour; e.g. those
who have made their money love it more than those who have inherited it;
and to be well treated seems to involve no labour, while to treat others
well is a laborious task. These are the reasons, too, why mothers are fonder
of their children than fathers; bringing them into the world costs them
more pains, and they know better that the children are their own. This
last point, too, would seem to apply to benefactors.
8
The question is also debated, whether a man should love himself
most, or some one else. People criticize those who love themselves most,
and call them self-lovers, using this as an epithet of disgrace, and a
bad man seems to do everything for his own sake, and the more so the more
wicked he is-and so men reproach him, for instance, with doing nothing
of his own accord-while the good man acts for honour's sake, and the more
so the better he is, and acts for his friend's sake, and sacrifices his
own interest.
But the facts clash with these arguments, and this is not surprising.
For men say that one ought to love best one's best friend, and man's best
friend is one who wishes well to the object of his wish for his sake, even
if no one is to know of it; and these attributes are found most of all
in a man's attitude towards himself, and so are all the other attributes
by which a friend is defined; for, as we have said, it is from this relation
that all the characteristics of friendship have extended to our neighbours.
All the proverbs, too, agree with this, e.g. 'a single soul', and 'what
friends have is common property', and 'friendship is equality', and 'charity
begins at home'; for all these marks will be found most in a man's relation
to himself; he is his own best friend and therefore ought to love himself
best. It is therefore a reasonable question, which of the two views we
should follow; for both are plausible.
Perhaps we ought to mark off such arguments from each other and
determine how far and in what respects each view is right. Now if we grasp
the sense in which each school uses the phrase 'lover of self', the truth
may become evident. Those who use the term as one of reproach ascribe self-love
to people who assign to themselves the greater share of wealth, honours,
and bodily pleasures; for these are what most people desire, and busy themselves
about as though they were the best of all things, which is the reason,
too, why they become objects of competition. So those who are grasping
with regard to these things gratify their appetites and in general their
feelings and the irrational element of the soul; and most men are of this
nature (which is the reason why the epithet has come to be used as it is-it
takes its meaning from the prevailing type of self-love, which is a bad
one); it is just, therefore, that men who are lovers of self in this way
are reproached for being so. That it is those who give themselves the preference
in regard to objects of this sort that most people usually call lovers
of self is plain; for if a man were always anxious that he himself, above
all things, should act justly, temperately, or in accordance with any other
of the virtues, and in general were always to try to secure for himself
the honourable course, no one will call such a man a lover of self or blame
him.
But such a man would seem more than the other a lover of self;
at all events he assigns to himself the things that are noblest and best,
and gratifies the most authoritative element in and in all things obeys
this; and just as a city or any other systemati
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