Walking with Aristotle: Nicomachean Ethics VII.1-10

by Peter Saint-Andre

2024-09-21

At the end of Nicomachean Ethics Book VI, Aristotle sketched out an ideal of human flourishing, in the form of the seriously good person who seamlessly combines excellence of mind and character, practical wisdom [phronēsis] and ethical thriving [aretē]. Yet human experience is not always so seamless. There are many ways to go astray in life, which in Book VII Aristotle boils down to three: corruption [mochthēria] of character, lack of self-restraint [akrasia], and, rarely, a deficient state that borders on an animal-like existence [theriotēs].

Aristotle spends most of Book VII puzzling over akrasia, commonly translated as unrestraint (e.g., by Joe Sachs), lack of self-restraint, weakness of the will, moral weakness, or (my current preference) self-indulgence. Unlike the ethically corrupted person, who has a settled commitment to doing what's repulsively wrong [aischros] in one or more domains of life, the akratic person has an understanding of and commitment to what is beautifully right [kalos], yet doesn't always follow through in action. Aristotle adduces two main reasons for this kind of self-indulgence: impulsiveness [propeteia] and weakness [asthenia]. He says that impulsive people don't deliberate about their activities in the first place because they live by emotion; by contrast, weak-willed people, although they deliberate ahead of time, get carried away by their emotions and thus in the end stand aside from their deliberations and commitments. He seems to imply that self-indulgent behavior is especially common in the young, whose character traits and practices are not yet fully formed, although it could manifest itself in immature people of all ages.

Just as the self-indulgent person is different from the ethically corrupted person, so the self-restrained person [enkratēs] is different from the ethically thriving person. Unlike the self-indulgent person, the self-restrained person doesn't give in to their unworthy passions and emotions but instead stands by their deliberations and commitments; yet unlike the seriously good person, whose thoughts and actions and emotions are in harmony, the self-restrained person has unworthy passions and emotions that need to be actively, even steadfastly overcome.

At some level, all three of these - the ethically thriving person, the self-restrained person, and the self-indulgent person - know what's right; yet they differ in their ability to act on what they know. Socrates thought it was impossible to know what's right and not act aright, so he held that weakness of the will doesn't exist: the self-indulgent person may seem to know, but doesn't really know (in their bones, as we would say). Aristotle gets through this impasse by drawing a distinction between having knowledge and actively using that knowledge; thus he argues that in the heat of the moment the self-indulgent person doesn't maintain awareness [theōria] of what's beautifully right [kalos] and of what makes a human life complete [teleia] and fulfilled [eudaimōn]. He likens an episode of self-indulgence to falling asleep, getting drunk, or a bout of insanity: in all of these cases, one is temporarily under the influence of something - a passion (anger, lust, etc.), fatigue, a drug, or a malady - from which one needs to recover, awaken, sober up, or heal before one's knowledge is fully activated and at work [energein] again in the authoritative sense [kurios].

How do wise people [phronimoi] - ethically serious people [spoudaioi] - avoid such episodes? Aristotle provides two clues. First, they foresee the snares of unworthy passions ahead of time and thus awaken themselves and their reasoning (1150b23-24) so that they are prepared to counteract the influence of such passions, rather as Odysseus prepared his crew for their encounter with the Sirens. Second, over time they cultivate settled traits [hexeis] and practices of beautifully right behavior, so that they don't need to face each situation as if it were something completely new; instead, as they mature and become more complete, their deliberations and commitments and activities become consistent and reliable, like a second nature (1152a31).

In the remainder of Book VII, Aristotle turns to an analysis of pleasures/joys and pains/distresses, since character is bound up with how we handle positive and negative emotions in life. We'll discuss those topics in the next section of our walk with Aristotle.

(Cross-posted at philosopher.coach.)

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