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.

When your world gets rocked...

      That awkward moment when Aristotle isn't the objectivist that you always thought he was...

      The idea that Aristotle may have been willing to accept different culturally normative explanations of virtues as acceptable, introduced two classes ago and further explored last class, raises some unexplored questions in my mind regarding virtue, vice and human flourishing. Currently, the most pressing of these questions is, "What happens when different cultures have irreconcilable conflicts of opinion on what constitutes virtuous living?"

      Some of the most apparent conflicts occur in conceptions of justice and courage across cultures. Take feudal Japan and Viking age Scandinavia for instance:

     Bushido, the Samurai code of conduct, demands absolute loyalty to superiors and strict adherence to an honor code regardless of the situation. Imagine a scenario in which a samurai's master was murdered by a large group of bandits. The samurai's duty to protect his master at all costs, and to immediately act to avenge his death in the event of failure, would dictate that the single, impossibly outnumbered warrior should attack the bandits responsible for his master's demise, regardless of the dismal likelihood of success or the unlikely chance for survival.

      Vikings, on the other hand, value individualism and glory. This means that, faced with a similar situation as above, where a friend, chieftain, or kinsman was killed unjustly, it would be perfectly permissible for the warrior to beat a retreat, and then swear a blood feud against those responsible that could last for years or even generations.

      The distinction between the two is significant... right? The first says that courage and justice are entirely dependent on motivation and the process preceding the choice to act, while the second is almost entirely concerned with results, regardless of method. If Aristotle is truly a cultural relativist when it comes to the definitions of the virtues, he would argue that this distinction has no bearing on an understanding of human flourishing. This argument holds logical water when you consider Aristotle's assertion that Eudaimonia is the goal at which virtue aims, and that virtue is not an end to itself. As a result, we can expect the action demanded by virtue to shift relative to the context of the situation. For example, the courageous thing for a person to do if they came across a mugging in progress would be different if that person were Bruce Lee than if that person were a paraplegic. If we expand "context" to include the cultural setting in which the scenario exists, then such conflicts as mentioned above are not necessarily counterexamples to Aristotle's understanding of virtue.

The question of evil.. no, the other one

        In class on Thursday, the topic of Plato's "theory of forms" was covered in discussion. As it was explained and as I understand it, this "theory" incorporates an understanding that all objects, qualities, and concepts have a perfect, unchanging, and immaterial essence. This essence is what is referred to is a form. All things, when properly ordered, then participate in and draw nearer to the form of the Good.

       Remarkably absent from this model (or at least from our conversation of it) was an understanding of evil. I find it very interesting that there are many potential ways to think about what I consider evil in light of this model. As I see it, there are two primary ways to consider evil.

        First, evil is not a unique concept, but is instead just a word given to describe things that are absolutely devoid of any participation in the Formal good. Earthly things that are not as simple to understand as a mono dimensional consideration of participation in the good are described as evil due to their lack of glaring characteristics that accompany the good. For example, a thing that is good will have courage, wisdom and temperance. Lacking these qualities, then, earns the title of "evil."

       The second way to look at evil is as a distinct idea, existing independently of the good. This model is compelling because it allows for things to exist outside of a simple two-poled spectrum. Consider duty, cruelty and mercy. There is a difference between a soldier taking the life of his enemy because it is required to protect his friends, family and way of life and acting violently because he is a sadist. It would not be good for a soldier to violate his duty, but his merciful actions can hardly be considered evil in the same way sadistic, brutal, and cruel acts of violence would be. By accepting that there is a "Form" of evil, you can explain the way that the soul reacts to corruption, betrayal, cruelty, and selfishness much more completely than by simply saying that the soul recognizes the absence of the good.

        I am neither buying nor selling either of these views, as I have yet to cobble together anything but the haziest thumbnail sketch of either position, but I find the process of inquiry engaging and stimulating. The allure of logically (dare I say it: Socratically??) picking apart the implications of both sides until a satisfactory explanation is generated appeals to me as immensely satisfying.

... And the greatest of these is love

Socrates... He does that

"In a word, then, loves is the desire to possess the good forever"

        Once again, Socrates is at the top of his game, and by "his game" I mean undermining fools' misconceptions through flawless cross examination. All, of course, while under the pseudo-sincere pretense of being completely ignorant of the topic of discussion. Socrates is kind of a jerk. But maybe that's not fair to say. It is possible that it would come across as even more inflammatory if he dropped the act altogether.

        In any case, his arguments regarding the nature of love make a large amount of sense. To begin with, he focuses on the aspect of love that he identifies as "desire." In Socrates' estimation, one never desires something that they have. If a person already possesses something and claims that they still want it, their desire could better be restated as a preference to retain possession of that thing in the future. This insight is simultaneously subtle and powerful. Consider a wedding.
        Because a wedding is one of the greatest human declarations of love, we can easily compare Socrates' definition to determine its usefulness. If two people are choosing to get married, they are claiming that they love each other more than they love any other person in existence. This claim is followed by a commitment by each party to never depart from their companion, effectively securing the possession of the object of their desire.
       
        A second component of Socrates understanding of love incorporates an element of selflessness. This selflessness is developed as a result of recognizing beauty and desiring to see that beauty grow and develop. This too mirrors a modern understanding of love. We think of loving relationships as those in which the participants pursue meeting the needs of their partner. Regarded as purer still are those individuals who are willing to prioritize their beloved's needs above their own, acting sacrificially to make the other person better off.

        Overall, it is hard to argue with Socrates' understanding of love. Even coming to the table with a Christian worldview, there is much that is compatible. He may not be the most pedagogically polite educator of all time, but you've got to appreciate the appeal of his ideas.

"I just want to take this opportunity to publicly apologize..."

Plato's Apology is basically the final comeback of the city of Athens in their decades long argument with Socrates. It went a little something like this:

Athens: "Hey! So we think these things are good"

Socrates: "Okay... but what about these problems with them"

A: "... Well what if we re-stated it this way?"

S: "Nope. Still doesn't sound right."

A: "Oh come on, don't just sit there being negative and never 

actually contributing any new ideas!!"

S: "But wisdom is knowing that what you think you know, 

you don't actually know... you know?" 

A: "..."

At some point, a vocal and influential segment of the Athenian populace got tired of Socrates' nonsense and went through the totally legitimate process of grossly misrepresenting his life's work to get him executed. Socrates, being Socrates, proceeds to take the opportunity to publicly humiliate his accusers, make a mockery of the farcical "justice" system, and try to set the record straight regarding the true value of his work as a public service to the city of Athens. 

Now lets just pause right here and take a moment to talk about what it's like holding a view that those in power find inconvenient or annoying. In fairness, we don't exactly live in Soviet Russia, where being a nuisance to the Regime results in getting shipped off to Siberia. That said, it is still political suicide for a congressman to grow a conscience and do what they think is right if it means deviating from party lines. The institutional design of the United States may protect people's rights to say, think and do what they please, but their ability to actually change those institutions is severely hampered. The incentive structure for the American politician demands that he or she do what she was elected to do, regardless of what the information on hand says is the best thing to do. Defying this incentive structure will surely result in consequences, though perhaps not of the sort that Socrates faced. In any case, those rare representatives that cross party lines because of an honest, objective evaluation of the facts deserve to be honored just as the Homeric hero to which Socrates compares himself. It takes great courage to risk one's life's work for an understanding that you've made the right choice.