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 |
