homework

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Aristotle, selections from Nichomachean Ethics

Every art and every kind of inquiry, and likewise every act and purpose, seems to aim

at some good: and so it has been well said that the good is that at which everything

aims.

But a difference is observable among these aims or ends. What is aimed at is

sometimes the exercise of a faculty, sometimes a certain result beyond that exercise.

And where there is an end beyond the act, there the result is better than the exercise of

the faculty.

Now since there are many kinds of actions and many arts and sciences, it follows that

there are many ends also; e.g. health is the end of medicine, ships of shipbuilding,

victory of the art of war, and wealth of economy.

But when several of these are subordinated to some one art or science,—as the

making of bridles and other trappings to the art of horsemanship, and this in turn,

along with all else that the soldier does, to the art of war, and so on, —then the end

of the master-art is always more desired than the ends of the subordinate arts, since

these are pursued for its sake. And this is equally true whether the end in view be the

mere exercise of a faculty or something beyond that, as in the above instances. If

then in what we do there be some end which we wish for on its own account,

choosing all the others as means to this, but not every end without exception as a

means to something else (for so we should go on ad infinitum, and desire would be

left void and objectless),—this evidently will be the good or the best of all things.

And surely from a practical point of view it much concerns us to know this good; for

then, like archers shooting at a definite mark, we shall be more likely to attain what

we want.

[ . . . ]

It seems that men not unreasonably take their notions of the good or happiness from

the lives actually led, and that the masses who are the least refined suppose it to be

pleasure, which is the reason why they aim at nothing higher than the life of

enjoyment.

For the most conspicuous kinds of life are three: this life of enjoyment, the life of the

statesman, and, thirdly, the contemplative life.

The mass of men show themselves utterly slavish in their preference for the life of

brute beasts, but their views receive consideration because many of those in high

places have the tastes of Sardanapalus.

Men of refinement with a practical turn prefer honour; for I suppose we may say that

honour is the aim of the statesman’s life.

But this seems too superficial to be the good we are seeking: for it appears to depend

upon those who give rather than upon those who receive it; while we have a

presentiment that the good is something that is peculiarly a man’s own and can scarce

be taken away from him.

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Moreover, these men seem to pursue honour in order that they may be assured of their

own excellence,—at least, they wish to be honoured by men of sense, and by those

who know them, and on the ground of their virtue or excellence. It is plain, then, that

in their view, at any rate, virtue or excellence is better than honour; and perhaps we

should take this to be the end of the statesman’s life, rather than honour.

But virtue or excellence also appears too incomplete to be what we want; for it seems

that a man might have virtue and yet be asleep or be inactive all his life, and,

moreover, might meet with the greatest disasters and misfortunes; and no one would

maintain that such a man is happy, except for argument’s sake. But we will not dwell

on these matters now, for they are sufficiently discussed in the popular treatises.

The third kind of life is the life of contemplation: we will treat of it further on. As for

the money-making life, it is something quite contrary to nature; and wealth evidently

is not the good of which we are in search, for it is merely useful as a means to

something else. So we might rather take pleasure and virtue or excellence to be ends

than wealth; for they are chosen on their own account. But it seems that not even they

are the end, though much breath has been wasted in attempts to show that they are.

[ . . . ]

Let us return once more to the question, what this good can be of which we are in search.

It seems to be different in different kinds of action and in different arts,—one thing in

medicine and another in war, and so on. What then is the good in each of these cases?

Surely that for the sake of which all else is done. And that in medicine is health, in war

is victory, in building is a house,—a different thing in each different case, but always, in

whatever we do and in whatever we choose, the end. For it is always for the sake of the

end that all else is done.

If then there be one end of all that man does, this end will be the realizable good,—or

these ends, if there be more than one.

By this generalization our argument is brought to the same point as before. This point

we must try to explain more clearly.

We see that there are many ends. But some of these are chosen only as means, as

wealth, flutes, and the whole class of instruments. And so it is plain that not all ends

are final.

But the best of all things must, we conceive, be something final.

If then there be only one final end, this will be what we are seeking,—or if there be

more than one, then the most final of them.

Now that which is pursued as an end in itself is more final than that which is pursued

as means to something else, and that which is never chosen as means than that which

is chosen both as an end in itself and as means, and that is strictly final which is

always chosen as an end in itself and never as means.

Happiness seems more than anything else to answer to this description: for we always

choose it for itself, and never for the sake of something else; while honour and

pleasure and reason, and all virtue or excellence, we choose partly indeed for

themselves (for, apart from any result, we should choose each of them), but partly

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also for the sake of happiness, supposing that they will help to make us happy. But no

one chooses happiness for the sake of these things, or as a means to anything else at

all.

We seem to be led to the same conclusion when we start from the notion of self-sufficiency.

The final good is thought to be self-sufficing [or all-sufficing]. In applying this term we do

not regard a man as an individual leading a solitary life, but we also take account of parents,

children, wife, and, in short, friends and fellow-citizens generally, since man is naturally a

social being. Some limit must indeed be set to this; for if you go on to parents and

descendants and friends of friends, you will never come to a stop. But this we will consider

further on: for the present we will take self-sufficing to mean what by itself makes life

desirable and in want of nothing. And happiness is believed to answer to this description.

And further, happiness is believed to be the most desirable thing in the world, and that

not merely as one among other good things: if it were merely one among other good

things [so that other things could be added to it], it is plain that the addition of the

least of other goods must make it more desirable; for the addition becomes a surplus

of good, and of two goods the greater is always more desirable.

Thus it seems that happiness is something final and self-sufficing, and is the end of all

that man does.

But perhaps the reader thinks that though no one will dispute the statement that happiness is the

best thing in the world, yet a still more precise definition of it is needed.

This will best be gained, I think, by asking, What is the function of man? For as the

goodness and the excellence of a piper or a sculptor, or the practiser of any art, and

generally of those who have any function or business to do, lies in that function, so

man’s good would seem to lie in his function, if he has one.

But can we suppose that, while a carpenter and a cobbler has a function and a

business of his own, man has no business and no function assigned him by nature?

Nay, surely as his several members, eye and hand and foot, plainly have each his own

function, so we must suppose that man also has some function over and above all

these.

What then is it?

Life evidently he has in common even with the plants, but we want that which is

peculiar to him. We must exclude, therefore, the life of mere nutrition and growth.

Next to this comes the life of sense; but this too he plainly shares with horses and

cattle and all kinds of animals.

There remains then the life whereby he acts—the life of his rational nature, with its

two sides or divisions, one rational as obeying reason, the other rational as having and

exercising reason.

But as this expression is ambiguous,† we must be understood to mean thereby the life

that consists in the exercise of the faculties; for this seems to be more properly

entitled to the name.

The function of man, then, is exercise of his vital faculties [or soul] on one side in

obedience to reason, and on the other side with reason.

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But what is called the function of a man of any profession and the function of a man

who is good in that profession are generically the same, e.g. of a harper and of a good

harper; and this holds in all cases without exception, only that in the case of the latter

his superior excellence at his work is added; for we say a harper’s function is to harp,

and a good harper’s to harp well.

(Man’s function then being, as we say, a kind of life—that is to say, exercise of his faculties

and action of various kinds with reason—the good man’s function is to do this well and

beautifully [or nobly]. But the function of anything is done well when it is done in accordance

with the proper excellence of that thing.) If this be so the result is that the good of man is

exercise of his faculties in accordance with excellence or virtue, or, if there be more than one,

in accordance with the best and most complete virtue.

[ . . . ]

But if happiness be the exercise of virtue, it is reasonable to suppose that it will be the

exercise of the highest virtue; and that will be the virtue or excellence of the best part

of us.

Now, that part or faculty—call it reason or what you will—which seems naturally to

rule and take the lead, and to apprehend things noble and divine—whether it be itself

divine, or only the divinest part of us—is the faculty the exercise of which, in its

proper excellence, will be perfect happiness.

That this consists in speculation or contemplation we have already said.

This conclusion would seem to agree both with what we have said above, and with

known truths.

This exercise of faculty must be the highest possible; for the reason is the highest of

our faculties, and of all knowable things those that reason deals with are the highest.

Again, it is the most continuous; for speculation can be carried on more continuously

than any kind of action whatsoever.

We think too that pleasure ought to be one of the ingredients of happiness; but of all

virtuous exercises it is allowed that the pleasantest is the exercise of wisdom.* At

least philosophy† is thought to have pleasures that are admirable in purity and

steadfastness; and it is reasonable to suppose that the time passes more pleasantly

with those who possess, than with those who are seeking knowledge.

Again, what is called self-sufficiency will be most of all found in the speculative life.

The necessaries of life, indeed, are needed by the wise man as well as by the just man

and the rest; but, when these have been provided in due quantity, the just man further

needs persons towards whom, and along with whom, he may act justly; and so does

the temperate and the courageous man and the rest; while the wise man is able to

speculate even by himself, and the wiser he is the more is he able to do this. He could

speculate better, we may confess, if he had others to help him, but nevertheless he is

more self-sufficient than anybody else.

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Again, it would seem that this life alone is desired solely for its own sake; for it yields

no result beyond the contemplation, but from the practical activities we get something

more or less besides action.

[ . . . ]

If then reason be divine as compared with man, the life which consists in the exercise

of reason will also be divine in comparison with human life. Nevertheless, instead of

listening to those who advise us as men and mortals not to lift our thoughts above

what is human and mortal, we ought rather, as far as possible, to put off our mortality

and make every effort to live in the exercise of the highest of our faculties; for though

it be but a small part of us, yet in power and value it far surpasses all the rest. And

indeed this part would even seem to constitute our true self, since it is the sovereign

and the better part. It would be strange, then, if a man were to prefer the life of

something else to the life of his true self.

Again, we may apply here what we said above—for every being that is best and

pleasantest which is naturally proper to it. Since, then, it is the reason that in the truest

sense is the man, the life that consists in the exercise of the reason is the best and

pleasantest for man—and therefore the happiest.