You Good, Bro?
Aristotle’s Ethics In Pursuit of Happiness
“Presumably, however, to say that happiness is the chief good seems a platitude, and a clearer account of what it is 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. … 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 the life of perception, but it also seems to be common even to the horse, the ox, and every animal. There remains, then, the 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-player and a good lyre-player, and so without qualification in all cases, eminence in respect of goodness being added 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 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 the good man to be the good and noble performance of these, and if any action is well performed when it is performed in accord with the appropriate excellence: if this is the case,] human good turns out to be activity of soul in accordance with virtue.”
— Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics 1.7, from Encyclopedia Britannica’s Great Books of the Western World series.
Apparently Cicero said that Aristotle’s writing style was like “a river of gold.” He must have been reading a different Aristotle. Notwithstanding the rhetorical morass of the above passage, the logic of Aristotle’s argument is clear and well-constructed. He is arguing that the business of being human is an activity of the soul that is in accord with reason, and that there is no distinction in kind between the rational activity of the soul and the good rational activity of the soul. Rather the good rational activity is the activity conducted with its appropriate excellence, just as a guitar-player and a good guitar-player are distinguished not by the activity of guitar-playing but by the excellence according to which they play.
This observation clarifies something for me: namely that the good life is not a specific activity of living to be preferred over other activities available to human function. It is rather a mode of engaging in the human function. “The good life” does not name a specific pursuit, but rather the quality with which people undertake their pursuits, and specifically the pursuit that every human is obliged to undertake by virtue of being human, that is, the pursuit of being a human. Because the life of the garbage collector is no more or less human than that of a doctor, the garbage collector’s life is no more or less virtuous. The high-rise is no worse than the monastery; the white-collar is no better than the blue. Married, single; young, old; employer, employed; all of these are specific modes of life of which “being human” is the general mode common to all, and to which the term good is to be applied.
I don’t know if you, dear reader, ever had this sense, but as I was growing up through high school and on into my entrance to the workforce, I had this sense that the life of the contemplative, or the artist, or the academic was somehow morally superior to the other modes of employment. Not that contemplatives and artists merely had it better than others, but that they were in some way better people by virtue of the mode of their employment. And when the universe (including my own uninformed agency) barred me access to such modes of living, in a certain way I despaired of being a good person (obviously, this is all hindsight; I would not have expressed my anxiety like this in the moment). Of course, Aristotle is no mere ideologue; later on in this same work he turns his considerable powers of attention upon the fact that some modes of living (including many over which we have no meaningful control) make human excellence easier, and as such ought to be sought and valued. For example, it is easier to live well if one is not oppressed by poverty—I don’t think anyone can honestly deny that. But for me at least, the above passage served to prove to me that, despite my blue collar, lack of academic qualifications, and general lack of time for prayer and contemplation, I can nevertheless perform well and nobly the “human function.” In the present passage, Aristotle attempts to define what that function is while admitting that “we must be content in speaking of such subjects and with such premises to indicate the truth roughly and in outline, and in speaking about things which are only for the most part true and with premises of the same kind to reach conclusions that are no better” (N. Ethics 1.3).
Aristotle’s phrase “an activity or actions of the soul implying a rational principle” requires more thought. By the Philosopher’s reasoning it must be whatever distinguishes us from the rest of animal life, but exactly here we risk expecting firm conclusions of premises true only roughly and in outline: too fine an analysis will inevitably land us in difficulty, compelling us to exclude aspects of human life that we would rather not exclude for the sake of functions that don’t ultimately warrant such exclusion. Onward with caution, then! I think the key here is to understand what Aristotle is referring to by “the active life of the element that has a rational principle” (the phrase in its original Greek is no clearer than this English monstrosity). He goes on to say that “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” (in this case the Greek is somewhat clearer than the above translation [1]). This is in contrast to the “life of nutrition and growth” common to plants and the “life of perception” shared with other animals. But, he says, “having a rational principle” can mean two things: obedience to a rational principle and exertion of a rational principle. In the former sense, things “have a rational principle” in that they have a reason, and in the latter, they “have a rational principle” in that they have reason. [2]
[1] The name of the translator is not given (the better to avoid culpability), but he did his work under the editorship of W. D. Ross of Oxford University Press, who would have benefitted from a firmer commitment to elegance and a better-developed aversion to pedantry.
[2] The Greek word here employed is logos, a word that admits of just such an ambiguity as the one found in the English word “reason.” However, English has the indefinite article with which to disambiguate (as illustrated above); Ancient Greek had no such resource.
“And,” Aristotle continues, “as ‘life of the rational element’ also has two meanings, we must state that life in the sense of activity is what we mean;” by which he must mean that, because possessing the rational principle can mean obeying the rational principle or employing it, “the life of the rational element” can mean a life in obedience to the rational principle or a life spent employing it. Aristotle wishes to clarify that we are talking about a life of employment of reason.
So much for that. But still the question remains: what does Aristotle mean by a “life employing reason”? He considers “possessing a rational principle” to be synonymous with “exercising thought,” so that might help. The word translated “exercising thought” has meanings like “to intend, to be minded; to think or suppose.” So then a life of employing reason is a life of intention, a purposive life. Since this whole discussion takes place in the context of distinguishing the “human function” from that of the animal or vegetable, we must also expect that Aristotle imagines “exercising thought” to be a distinctly human action, and so, if it is the action of intending or setting oneself a purpose, it must include actions that, as far as we know, are exclusive to humanity, either in kind or in degree; actions such as self-awareness, cogitation, and deliberation. But, as I said above, we must be wary of too fine an analysis. It seems better to me to think of Aristotle’s “function of man” as “the business of being human,” and then let each of humanity’s several distinct expressions contribute to a fuller image of the human business: expressions such as religion, literature, art, science, politics, and—of course—philosophy.
But, however one wishes to describe this business, Aristotle holds that where this business is pursued with excellence, there is the good life found. Or did he say it was to be pursued in accord with virtue? In actual fact, it is both. The word “excellence” and the the word “virtue” in the next sentence both translate the same Greek term: arete.
In modern English, the words “excellence” and “virtue” seem to name different things, with “excellence” the more generic term. We can talk about an excellent guitar-player, but not a virtuous one, but when we start talking about an excellent person, it becomes clear that we are talking at the same time about a virtuous one. “Virtue,” then, is a specific kind of excellence: an excellence of person. In Ancient Greek, there is no such distinction; an excellent person and an excellent guitar-player are described with the same word. This bears remarking because, as far as I can tell, the word “virtue” has undergone a certain attenuation, which has resulted in its migrating from the realm of excellence generally speaking to one of specifically inter-personal behavior. When we describe someone as virtuous (though, I get the sense that it is not a common word these days), we typically mean this person treats others well [3]. But for Aristotle, an excellent human—and, therefore a virtuous one—is more than just someone who treats others well. It is a person who performs the human function with excellence.
[3] That the word “ethical” offers itself as a synonym almost exclusively in such contexts is the result of a similar semantic attenuation that I don’t have the space here to discuss. For now it will suffice to say that, for Aristotle, “ethics” refers to someone’s habits and how they relate to that person’s ability to pursue the business of being human. Naturally, that includes how one behaves towards others, but it includes a great deal more than that, too.
So Aristotle’s reasoning runs thusly: human happiness is the chief human good (discussed in chapters preceding the above passage); the chief human good is the excellent performance of the human function; the excellent performance of the human function is the excellent life of the rational human soul; human happiness, then, is the excellent life of the rational human soul. Now, “excellent” and “virtuous” are the same word in Ancient Greek; thus, for Aristotle, the excellent life of the rational human soul is the virtuous life of the rational human soul. And so human happiness is the virtuous life of the rational human soul.
There is so much to say, but my prolixity as a writer is a vice well-known to me, and so I must exert some moderation in this case if I wish to keep this blog at a readable length.
Stay Excellent, dear reader.
Disclaimer:
I lack serious formal education and I’ll probably never get it. Because of this, I do not have access to resources or peer review. As such, the only way for me to get past my crippling imposter complex is to acknowledge my ignorance and plead for your help. Therefore, if you, dear reader, come across something in my writing objectionable, questionable, or downright wrong, I hereby place you under MORAL OBLIGATION TO CORRECT ME. I beg of you, get in touch via the link below.
