The Rube Goldberg of Philosophy

In one of the presentations last class, the point was made that Aristotle has an apparent obsession with classification and distinction-making. To the extent that this allowed him to gain insight into the mechanical functioning of human living, one could argue that it was a very good thing. To the extent that it unnecessarily complicated his models, one could argue that it may not have been such a good tendency. What is meant by "unnecessary complexity" is that distinction which either a) doesn't exist or b) possesses no material impact on the understanding of the theory as a whole, and therefore acts as an obstruction to acquiring this understanding from the more essential components. As the presenter argued, Aristotle's distinction between intellectual and moral virtues may be an instance of unnecessary complexity. The argument was not so much that the qualities Aristotle attributes to intellectual and moral virtues do not exist, but that making a hard and fast distinction between the two, and then discussing their uniqueness and removal from each other might have actually been detrimental to a complete understanding of virtues. This argument is based on the reasoning that ALL virtues seem to possess, to some extent at least, both the "intellectual" property of being transmittable through teaching, observation and study, and the "moral" property of self-habituation. The argument left the door open to go eve further and suggest that, even if Aristotle's implied separation exists, it is not material to one's understanding and its inclusion may serve to obscure the true nature of the pursuit. I'm not sure if I buy this argument wholesale, but it does raise an interesting question about philosophy in my mind.

What is the proper relationship between complexity and simplicity, and specific applicability and general relevance? In more empirical lines of scientific inquiry, theories are considered most useful, robust, and attractive when they can be described as "parsimonious" (a term I thought was primarily concerned with financial miserliness, but that I recently read in a political science journal referring to the more simple/general end of this spectrum). In philosophy, though, there seems to be a place for analysis along the entire continuum (though Aristotle would likely argue that he aims for the mean...). It is not apparent to me whether this is a good thing, a bad thing, or merely the way things are. On the one hand, philosophy is a gigantic academic field, containing within itself a sub-focus or field of study for just about every other academic discipline there is. While one can study philosophy of engineering, for example, it is very difficult to conceive of the inverse being possible. In this way, I think it is acceptable for philosophy as a discipline to have a more nebulous and ambiguous set of rules and expectations.

The journey of 1000 words begins with...

Aristotle’s moral philosophy, as explained in his work Nicomachean Ethics, has often been interpreted as simply making objective claims about the nature of the good life and prescriptions regarding the way it is achieved. However, a deeper reading of Aristotle’s ethical views yields a subtle and complex picture that manages to retain much of the commonly held understanding. This interpretation still acknowledges that Eudaimonia is the Telos toward which all human activity is ordered, that complete virtue and a complete life are objectively and universally required for Eudaimonia’s attainment, and that virtuous action is consistent with the perfectly balanced “mean” found on the spectrum from deficiency to excess of a certain capacity. The divergence occurs when examining the way that virtuous disposition prescribes virtuous action in specific situations.

In Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle makes it clear that the scope of his discourse excludes any conversation regarding the way a specific individual ought to respond to a specific situation, opting instead to focus on the more “scientific” pursuit of finding the highest end of human activity and the elements of the pursuit of this end that most people hold in common. When attempting to explore the region of specific prescription that Aristotle left untouched, it would be possible to believe that the mean exists at a single, objectively excellent point along the continuum from excess to deficiency, and that anything precluding an individual from acting in this way disqualifies them from acting in a fully virtuous manner. The problem with this view is that it seems to violate Aristotle’s readily apparent opinion that “the intermediate is… not one, and is not the same for all” (1106a 32-33). This paper will argue that a virtuous disposition will prescribe not one, but a range of different responses to a situation that will vary depending on the circumstantial context. Several factors contribute to this “context.” When considering such factors, one is tempted to primarily focus on scenario specific details and considerations of an individual’s capabilities and handicaps. In addition to these factors, this paper will argue that societally generated codes of conduct, expectations and norms play an important role when prescribing specific action in specific circumstances.

This perspective on Aristotelian virtue ethics is salient because it allows the possibility that two societies both might have comprehensive value and ethical systems, might provide an adequate basis for human flourishing, but might do so by prescribing actions that seem inconsistent or even incompatible with each other. It is also possible that these distinct value systems would prescribe similar courses of action, but for wildly different justifications. Under the above-described misinterpretation, such points of friction would have to be regarded as a conflict between two cultures of unequal merit, with one necessarily being more virtuous than the other. 

To challenge this misperception and reinforce the proposed concept of prescriptive relativism, this paper will draw on a comparison of two cultures, removed to each other in both time and geography. The two societies in question, Feudal Japan and Viking Age Scandinavia, both possess the necessary external conditions to facilitate Aristotle’s “complete living,” both prohibit the kinds of categorically impermissible actions that Aristotle deems inconsistent with human flourishing like murder or theft, and both possess comprehensive systems of norms and laws that encourage virtuous living and discourage vicious behavior.

Before this comparison is explored further, it is first necessary to revisit some of the basic understandings of Aristotle’s ethical views that will shape the remainder of this discussion, in an attempt to a likely objection in the bud and present a clear justification for the interpretation now being advocated for. After these primary explanations, this paper will examine each of the cultures individually, to ensure that the implications of this demonstration are clearly understood.

First is the right ordering of feelings. Aristotle asserts that virtuous individuals experience such feelings as fear, anger, pleasure and pain “at the right times, about the right things, toward the right people, for the right end and in the right way” (1106a 21-24). In the course of the comparisons to follow, it will become apparent that the two societies in question have very different ideas regarding the “right” way to order feelings in one’s motivations, and the importance, or lack thereof, of motivation when determining the merit of an action. While this may appear inconsistent with Aristotelian emphasis on both the motivation and method of an action when determining its value, this discrepancy does not disqualify or undermine the purpose of this comparison. After all, the purpose of these comparisons is not to argue that Vikings or Samurai were secretly Aristotelian virtue-ethicists, but to demonstrate the flexible and robust results of looking at Aristotle’s ethical views from a certain perspective.

One reason why the interpretation of Aristotelian virtue ethics as societally relativistic is acceptable is the inherently social nature of Aristotle’s system. To begin with, Aristotle’s terminology describing the acceptability of certain actions implies social interactions and social judgments. “Praise” and “blame” are concepts that assume the presence of an observer. Such language makes no sense if the system is arguing that an action carries value independent of the judgments of the people affected by it. This is reinforced by Aristotle’s constant allusion to the necessity and value of the lawmaker to the process of creating a society in which humans flourish or fail. It is the job of the lawmaker to create a society incentivizing and facilitating the habituation of virtue. That said, Aristotle hardly expected the laws of every city, state and nation to be identical. Geography, climate, economics, and proximity to hostile populations all uniquely shape governments’ policies. This means that even societies with identical goals will have different laws due to the unique challenges that they face in developing a practically functioning society. Given these facts, no great logical leap is required to arrive at the idea that different societies, having developed uniquely due to systemic factors beyond their control, would create unique social expectations of what constitutes “praiseworthy” or “blameworthy” behavior in any given context, despite sharing an overarching goal of demanding virtuous behavior and condemning vicious behavior.

Questions about pain

      In Book VII of Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle claims to have a discussion of continence and incontinence, and of pleasure and pain. That said, he does not spend equal time and effort addressing each of these 4 things. Most deficiently addressed is pain. Aristotle makes many general statements and logical arguments surrounding pain, but due to never directly addressing the nature of pain, I have questions left unanswered.

      To begin with, is pain good under any circumstances? Most of the references to pain occur in contrast to pleasure. If we are to infer that pain is the equal and opposite partner of pleasure, then we must assume that there is a level of pain that is rightly ordered in the human life. In chapter 14, Aristotle says that "the bad man... does not avoid the excess of [pain], he avoids it altogether," implying that the pursuit of a pain-free life is just as problematic as the pursuit of an excessively pleasurable life.
      This is opposed, however, by the claim at the beginning of chapter 13 that "pain is bad and to be avoided." In context, this assertion is used to justify that pleasure must be a good thing. This problematically leads to circular logic. Ex:

"Pain is bad and is the opposite of pleasure, so pleasure must be good." 
"How do we know pain is bad?" 
"Because pleasure is good and is the opposite of pain"

      It sure seems like all I can do is sit here and lament how little time is spent by Aristotle directly addressing pain. In contrast, he spends several entire chapters discussing how pleasure can be good, both with and without qualification. This is disappointing to me because I think there is much to be discovered from exploring pain, the aversion to it, the love of it, the implication of such preferences on the virtues, and the level to which pain detracts from or is necessary for human flourishing. For example, in the same way that attraction to pleasure is a salient issue to understand in order to dialogue about temperance or wisdom, aversion to pain is a salient issue to understand when addressing courage.

      I wonder why it is that pain is so sparsely covered in this Book. In any case, its not as if Aritstotle's insights regarding continence, incontinence and pleasure are are too deficiently educational or thought provoking to keep me busy.