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Moving on from his discussions of ideal relationships and then unequal relationships, Aristotle first takes a detour into different forms of political community (monarchy, aristocracy, democracy, etc.). This likely strikes us as strange, until Aristotle explains that philia holds societies together even more than justice does; in this context, I would translate the term as brotherhood (a somewhat attenuated kind of loving in especially short supply these days, it seems!). The idea is that philia exists to the extent that two or more people share common goals and activities, such as workmates (Aristotle's example is actually shipmates on a commercial venture), fellow soldiers, neighbors, participants in a religious order, or members of a social club. And all of these specific varieties of association exist under the broad framework of the overall society in which you live.
Aristotle observes that it is in relationships based on personal gain and usefulness that complaints and reproaches are most likely to arise. Consider life in a modern organization, where you might help a colleague with a project of theirs but not receive the same level of assistance with a project of your own; this kind of disparity, compounded over time, can cause you to rethink the entire relationship. By contrast, Aristotle says there are no complaints in stable relationships based on good character, mutual caring, and the pursuit of what's beautifully right as opposed to what's personally advantageous. A further cause of disagreement can occur when one person thinks the relationship is based on character but the other thinks it is based on usefulness or pleasure.
Yet Aristotle emphasizes that these matters can be extremely subtle: it can be difficult to figure out where you really stand, whether another person truly shares your values, when it makes sense to break off a relationship, etc. This is why we can't formulate hard-and-fast rules and instead need to develop a certain kind of wisdom [phronēsis] about human relationships.
(Cross-posted at philosopher.coach.)
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Following up on his presentation of an ideal of human relationships, in Nicomachean Ethics VIII.6-8 Aristotle starts to investigate some of the variables that lead to less than ideal outcomes. Because ideally love and friendship in all their many forms entails a kind of equality, one of these variables is inequality between the two people involved, with respect to common attributes such as wealth, power, social class, fame, beauty, etc. As a modern example, consider the employees of a large corporation: it's highly unlikely, perhaps even unheard of, that the CEO will have a close relationship with the guy in the mailroom; the power gap is simply too wide. Or, to take the example that Aristotle uses, a ruler who is blessed with great wealth, absolute power, noble birth, and good looks usually surrounds himself with those who are useful (henchmen and servants and the like) and those who are pleasant (flatterers and entertainers and the like), but not with people of excellent character who take life seriously. Indeed, although the seriously good person is inherently both useful and enjoyable, such a person is not inclined to befriend a ruler unless the ruler is also superior in virtue, and that doesn't happen often.
Aristotle then extends this line of thinking to other relationships that, at least in the patriarchal society of ancient Greece, involved less drastic yet still significant forms of inequality: father and son, parent and child, husband and wife, etc. Yet he suggests a way in which these relationships can be equalized: not in the love accorded to a person because of that person's role (e.g., a parent naturally deserves more love than a child, since the parent is the source of the child's very being), but in the activity [energeia] of loving [philein]. It is in this activity that the excellence [aretē] of love resides, not in passively receiving love. Furthermore, this kind of equality is more long-lasting [monimos] and humane [epieikēs], since it is based on stable character traits rather than relatively ephemeral qualities of usefulness and enjoyment. Here again, as throughout Aristotle's reflections on things human, giving trumps receiving, creating trumps using, and activity trumps passivity. We'll see more implications of this principle as we walk along through the remainder of the Nicomachean Ethics.
(Cross-posted at philosopher.coach.)
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While attempting recently to render the first few lines of Tao Te Ching §14 about the nature of the Tao, I came up with the following:
Look: you cannot see - it gives no view
Hark: you cannot hear - it makes no sound
Reach: you cannot hold - it has no form
Although the phrase "it gives no view" might be more properly rendered as "it affords no view", I was seeking rhythmic consistency and a hint of alliteration. But then, reflecting on it further, I realized there is a profound truth in understanding affordances as gifts that deserve our gratitude.
Consider:
I'm not sure about you, but I know that I don't often enough give grateful attention to all that has been gifted to me. This is something I'm working on...
(Cross-posted at philosopher.coach.)
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As part of my background research for composing an epic poem about Pyrrho, I'm reading epics from around the world. So far this year I've read both the Iliad and the Odyssey twice (in Richmond Lattimore's masterful translations), Milton's Paradise Lost, the Argonautica by Apollonius of Rhodes, and most recently Beowulf. I'm also about halfway through Virgil's Aeneid (in John Dryden's translation), after which I intend to start on Ferdowsi's great Persian epic, the Shahnameh. I'm also halfway through my friend Dave Jilk's newly published science-fiction novel in the form of an epic poem, entitled Epoch: A Poetic Psy-Phi Saga (more on that soon). And there are plenty more where these came from!
Before diving into Beowulf for the first time since high school, I decided to read Translating Beowulf by Old English scholar Hugh Magennis. There are so many translations of Beowulf from Old English into Modern English that I wanted to choose one which, roughly speaking and mutatis mutandis, is consistent with Matthew Arnold's principles for translating Homer. All indications were that the translation to read - at least for me - was made by Michael Alexander for Penguin Classics, and his version did not disappoint.
Two aspects of the poem stood out for me. First, the high heroism of the story: Beowulf himself is portrayed not only as an accomplished and courageous warrior, but also as an exceptionally wise and ethical person. Second, the artistry of the verse: different from the purely syllabic verse of Homer and Virgil, and again from the accentual-syllabic verse of Milton and other Modern English poets, but quite gorgeous in its use of half-lines, alliteration, metaphors, formulae, and kennings (striking ways of describing everyday phenomena, such as calling the sea "the whale's road"). As far as I can tell, Michael Alexander did a great job of representing these various features of the Old English poem into his verse translation, which I expect I'll read again to absorb poetic insights that I might use in my "Pyrrhiad".
(Cross-posted at philosopher.coach.)
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The other day I finished reading George Eliot's novel Middlemarch. This was my second attempt, since a few years ago I had made it about halfway through but then got distracted with other projects. Middlemarch is widely considered one of the greatest novels in the English language, and I can't disagree. The aspect that most impresses me is Eliot's deep understanding of human character, emotion, and deliberation, for good and for ill. As befits Eliot's intellectual interests (she was the first to translate Spinoza's Ethics from Latin into English), that understanding is simultaneously both psychological and philosophical. I love how she provides ethical insights at just the right moments in the narrative: "character too is a process and an unfolding"; "character is not cut in marble - it is not something solid and unalterable. It is something living and changing, and may become diseased as our bodies do"; "every limit is a beginning as well as an ending"; "there is no creature whose inward being is so strong that it is not greatly determined by what lies outside it"; "is there not a genius for feeling nobly which also reigns over human spirits?" (etc.). British novelist Robert McCrum once called Middlemarch "a cathedral of words" and it certainly is long (my copy, printed in the 1920s, clocks in around 1350 pages, although more modern editions are around 800). Yet Eliot needed that vast structure to house the many fascinating characters she created, to portray their interrelationships, and to resolve their conflicts. Brava!
(Cross-posted at philosopher.coach.)
Books VIII and IX of the Nicomachean Ethics are devoted to philia. The translators all say this word means friendship - but I think they're wrong. According to Aristotle, the paradigm case of philia is a mother's love for her children (1161b27). Going out on a limb (as I am wont to do), I therefore render philia as love.
Why does Aristotle dedicate one-fifth of the Nicomachean Ethics to love? In the first sentence of Book VIII, he asserts that love is a kind of virtue [aretē tis] or suffused with virtue [met' aretēn], and that it is most necessary for our way of life [bios]. Because human beings are social animals, all of our goals and activities take on greater significance if they are pursued and shared with other people - especially the people who are dear to us and with whom we live, work, think, feel, and act.
Hearkening back to his earlier analysis of the good, Aristotle looks into "what is loved" (philētos) and distinguishes three kinds: what is useful [chrēsimos], what is enjoyable [hēdu], and what is good [agathos]. Thus there are three associated kinds of personal relationship: that based on usefulness (e.g., work colleagues), that based on enjoyment (e.g., poker buddies), and that based on goodness of character (e.g., best friends). The first two kinds tend to be unstable and relatively short-lived, since what we find pleasant or useful can change over time, as can our emphasis on one or the other at different times of life: younger people seek what's enjoyable and older people seek what's useful.
By contrast, the complete [teleia] kind of love exists between people who are good in themselves and similar in excellence of character, since they wish what's best for each other and take action to make it so. Because character is stable and long-lasting, so is the relationship rooted in good character. The individuals who share in such a relationship certainly benefit from it and enjoy it, but use and pleasure are not the purpose of their love.
A close relationship like this is not merely a feeling of mutual goodwill and affection, though. Its completeness is further enhanced by time, intimate acquaintance [sunētheia], mutual disclosure, trust, shared activities, and frequent or continual proximity.
Indeed, just as with excellence of character, so too love can be seen from two perspectives: that of the underlying trait [hexis] and that of the living activity [energeia]. Although the trait is a necessary foundation, the activity that expresses the trait is more primary and more significant, for activity involves commitment [prohairesis] and commitment in turn flows from deliberation and is suffused with our thoughts and values.
Such is the ideal of Aristotelian love as sketched out in Nicomachean Ethics VIII.1-5. In the remainder of Book VIII and in Book IX, Aristotle will consider a number of qualifications and complexities with regard to human relationships, since not all of our interactions exemplify the ideal. More on that next time.
(Cross-posted at philosopher.coach.)
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