ARISTOTLE ON THE GOOD LIFE

A Thesis

Presented to

The Faculty of Graduate Studies

of

The University of Guelph

by

ROOPEN MAJ-ITHIA

In partial fulfillment of requirements

for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

January, 1999

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ANSTOTLE ON THE GOOD LIFE

Roopen Navin Majithia Advisor: University of Guelph, 1999 Professor Kenneth Dorter

In the 70s and 80s, scholars were convinced that the Nicornachean Ethics was inconsistent because it seemed to them that while Aristotle emphasized both practical and theoretical virtues in his conception of happiness in much of the NE, in Book X he emphasized only one -contemplation. The problem was that it was hard to imagine how happiness could consist in the satisfaction of a single desire as opposed to the satisfaction of many desiderata. But the gathering consensus in the late 80s and 90s was that there is an implicit assumption that cleared up this difficulty; the activity of happiness was the6ria whereas the life of happiness consisted in the satisfaction of several desires both practical and theoretical.

Yet this has Ieft many scholars dissatisfied for 2 reasons: (a) because the notion of contemplating a completed picture of knowledge seems odd and boring and hardly the sort of thing one would need to express with the ecstatic Augustinian sentiments that Aristotle uses. (b) and because whatever one may say about their consistency, it is clear that in Book I the hero is a less unfortunate Prim or a Pericles and therefore consists of a discussion of the political Iife, whereas the hero in Book X is an Anaxagoras and therefore is a discussion of the philosophical life.

What I suggest is that (b) there are indeed 2 different lives being talked about here and that contrary to what has been thought ail along, the practical life can also culminate in theoria just as the philosophical one. This is seen with the help of a better understanding of (a). For thedria is ultimately a religious experience, one that is accomplished when we turn our minds to God, the Active Intellect, and in a sense become him since the mind works by becoming one with the object thought. How this is accompIished is different for the different lives; in the practical life it has to do with acting virtuousIy and fdfilling our function, as well as with the relation of the practical kalorz to the divine one. In the theoretical, it has to do with an explicit ascent to the first principle of knowledge and Being s outlined in the

Metaphysics. Acknowledgements

This work is dedicated to my parents for the unfailing love and support that I received from them all these years, even though I have not always been the ideal son, and without whom none of this would have been possible. To them I owe a debt of gratitude inestimable.

I would also like to thank all my teachers over the years for all that they have done for me: Jerry Gustafson, for kindling a passion for ideas, Scott Crom for inculcating the ideals of good scholarship, James King for introducing me to the treasures of the . Nicomachean Ethics, Ken Dorter for his patience and confidence in me, as well as for helping me keep a clear view of the forest, Brian Calvert for making sure that I didn't miss any of the trees, Paddy O'Cleirigh for all those enjoyable hours we spent studying Aristotle's Greek together, and last but not least, Ranjan Roy for teaching me understanding.

Finally, I would like to thank the Department of Philosophy at the University of Gueiph not only for the extensive financial support that I received from them in my time at Gueiph, but also for making the environment so congenial for research. Table of Contents

Chapter 1. Introduction 1

Chapter 2. On the Relation of Books I and X of the Nicomachean Ethics 19

Chapter 3. The The6riu-Prarir Relation in Aristotle's Ethics 73

Chapter 4. On the Impossibility of an Immoral Contemplator in Aristotle's Ethics 142

Chapter 5. On the Relation of Divine Thinking to Human Thought in Aristotle 174

Chapter 6. ArchZand Nous in Aristotle's Ethics 220

Bibliography of Works Cited 250 Chapter 1

Introduction

In Book X.6-8 of the Nicornnchean Ethics (henceforth NE)'

Aristotle seems explicitly to equate man's' final good or happiness

(e~dairnonia)~with the activity of contemplation (the6ria). This equation

I Book and chapter number references to the NE are in Roman and Arabic numerals respectively. Thus X.7 refers to Book X chapter 7. Additional references (e-g., 1074a30) to the page and line numbers are based on the Bekker edition of 1831. References to other works of Aristotle are in similar format except that the book and chapter number are preceded by the title of the text

(e-g., Metaphysics XII.2). All quotations from the NE and other works of

Aristotle are from the Revised Oxford Translation (1995) unIess otherwise indicated. The exceptions are quotes from the Eudemian Ethics (henceforth EE) for which I have used the revised translation of Woods (1992), and the revised

Hamlyn (1993) translation of the De Anima.

' I have adopted the ancient usage of 'man' throughout the thesis rather than the less sexist language of 'human being' to be consistent with Aristotle's own usage, even though, unlike Aristotle, I take it to refer to both men and women.

No offence is intended to anyone and I hope none is taken.

3 I am aware that 'eudaimonia' and 'happiness' are overlapping rather than equivalent terms but think that 'happiness' is the best available English word has generated a great deal of schoiarly controversy for a number of reasons:

la) It seems odd to suggest that human happiness is centered around the satisfaction of a single desire - contemplation - in what has come to be called the exclusive view of happiness, rather than the satisfaction of many important ones, or the inclusive view (Hardie 1967).

lb) Moreover, if happiness is essentially contemplation, why does

Aristotle spend so much time discussing ethical and political virtue

(aret~?)~in the NE, and only a small part of one book (X.6-8) on contemplation? In other words, the general tenor of the text suggests that happiness must include both practical and contemplative virtues whereas only a small part of the text suggests otherwise. In addition, the treatments of self-sufficiency, completeness and function in Book I, on some readings, suggests that happiness must be inclusive whereas the

Book X discussions on these very subjects seem decidedly exclusive.

lc) Aristotle's treatment of external goods in Book X seems also to contradict what he says on the same issues elsewhere in the text. For

------rather than, say, Cooper's (1975) 'flourishing.' For a defense of translating

'eudairnonia' as 'happiness' see Kraut (1979) and Dybikowski ( 198 1).

4 I translate 'arete" indifferently as 'virtue' or 'excellence'. instance, Book I suggests that man needs a full complement of external

goods (i.e., power, wealth, good friends, children, beauty and good

fortune in general) to be happy whereas Book X says that the

contemplator requires only the bare necessities of life. These kinds of

anomalies have led scholars to different conclusions, from declaring the

latter part of X to be a leftover from Aristotle's early Platonism (Jaeger

1948) to suggesting that it is an end of the semester joke that Aristotle

plays on his students (Moline 1983)!

2) The equation of happiness with the6rin downgrades the ethical and

political life discussed in much of the NE to a mere means to, and not a

part of, eudaimonia. That is, it implies that right action is right only

because it makes contemplation possible, in which case it is hard to see

how ethical activity can have intrinsic value as Aristotle repeatedly claims it does. If, instead, ethical activity were to be a part of

eudairnonia, then why it has intrinsic value is clear: for just as putting is

for the sake of the final end of golfing and yet is part of golfing, ethical activity is for the sake of the final end of happiness and yet is part of happiness as well. Thus virtue is not a mere means to happiness though it is undertaken for the sake of happiness and is in fact a part of it (Ackrill

1980).

If the final end for man or happiness consists of contemplation, and since it is the ethically good man who, because of his practical wisdom (phron&is), sees this, why is it that all good men do not become philosophers since only philosophers can be contemplators? To put it differently, in X.8 Aristotle calls the life of practical virtue the life of secondary happiness but since he tells us in VI.12 that it is the practically wise man who sees the final good for man, why would he not want to live the iife of primary happiness? One suggestion is that sometimes the circumstances in a good man's life do not allow him to become a philosopher and hence a contemplator, as he has duties and obligations to his family and state (Kraut 1989). But, it could be objected, this does not seem to be a complete explanation, for it does not satisfy all our intuitions about the good life. That is, it surely must be possible to live the best life for man without being a philosopher as Aristotle himself recognizes in the case of Hector (VII-I), who is called godlike because of an excess of virtue in the same way as a contemplator is godlike insofar as his activity resembles God's. Thus the demotion accorded to practical virtue in Book X is contrary to its general status in the rest of the N.E. and suggests that the identification of contemplation as happiness could not be Aristotle's considered position.

3) The way contemplation is discussed in X.7-8 suggests that it is always better to be contemplating (since this is what happiness is) than to be doing anything else, which includes acting ethically. Moreover, moral activity, not being something that the contemplator-god indulges in, is directly denigrated as being a hindrance to human contemplation. So the

value of contemplation is incommensurably greater than the value of any

other activity to such an extent that the contemplator seems not to have

any moral, familial or social obligations when he contemplates, and is

practically virtuous only when such activity does not hinder his

contemplation. Worse yet (on my reading and for other readings as well)

is the implication that any act however immoral is justified so long as it

allows for conternpiation. Thus Y can steal his brother 2's share of the

family fortune because this additional share allows him to live the life of

leisure necessary to ~ontem~late.~

4) One of the major motivations for trying to undermine Book X in the literature, especially in the twentieth century, has been a deep and abiding suspicion of Aristotle's supposed notion of contemplation construed as a gazing at a completed picture of knowledge. It has been argued that the process of attaining the goal is far more enduring and therefore satisfying than the simple gazing at a finished product (see for instance Wilkes

1978). Thus, Aristotelian contemplation seems not only a bad candidate for a conception of happiness construed exclusively as a single activity, but for one that is more inclusive as well. Moreover contemplation, as is normally construed in the literature, is available only to the philosopher,

There are many variations on this theme; see for instance Keyt 1995, Ackrill

1980 and Cooper 1975. which makes Aristotle's notion of happiness elitist (see for instance

Gmthier 1967 and Sparshott 1994). Thus a more inclusive conception of

happiness, derived from Books I-IX, along with a downplaying of the

contemplative and hence philosophical aspect, is more egalitarian and

hence more accessible (though not easy) to attain for all.

These kinds of considerations have led scholars to hold various

types of inclusive theses: from dropping contemplation altogether from

the conception of happiness and equating eudaimonia with life in accordance with all the ethical and political virtues, all of which have equal status (Moline 1983), to including contemplative activity, in some configuration or other, with a11 the other virtues (so for instance, Ackrill

1980, Brodie 199 1,Cooper 1975, Irwin 1985 [a], Keyt 1986, Urmson 1988,

Whiting 1986 and Wilkes 1980). But the gathering consensus in the last few years, for reasons that will become clear in chapter 2, has been that there is just too much evidence that suggests the exclusive reading is in fact the right one (see for instance, Clark 1975, Kenny 1978, 1991 and

1992, Ericksen 1976, Nagel 1980, Heinaman 1988 and Kraut 1989). In other words, primary happiness for Aristotle, rightly or wrongly, seems to be the activity of theoria and the activities of practical virtue constitute a secondary form of happiness.

The trouble is that even though the continuity of argument between

Books I and X, for instance, has been clearly shown to point to the veracity of the exclusive reading, much unease still remains. For, as

Kenny (1991 p. 78) points out, a consistent overall picture of the NE seems impossible, "...even if NE I and NE X are reconcilable, the NE as a whole seems to have two different heroes: the contemplative of I and X, and the great-souled man of 11-IV." That is to say, the life of happiness advocated in Book X is the philosophical life whereas many of the earlier books suggest that the best life is a political one. Traces of the great- souled man and of the political life are not absent in Book I as is clearly manifest in the discussion of the life of Priam (1.8-lo), and even, as we shall see, in Book X, so the problem becomes even more intractable and justifies the unease that many experience with the exclusive reading. Is these any way of allaying these fears?

In my thesis, I propose to defend Aristotle's explicit claim in Book

X that happiness consists exclusively of contemplative activity, but with one additional caveat; that given everything that Aristotle has to say on the subject, it follows that such activity is not restricted to the philosopher, and is in fact available to the practically virtuous, non- philosophical man such as Priam or Hector as well. If we accept this, then it is easy to see why in fact Aristotle writes as if there are two heroes in the NE, for this is in fact true. That is, throughout much of the NE, the suggestion seems to be that the non-philosophical good man is and can be happy (see for instance references to Pericles as knowing the end of man in VI.5 and to potential Priamic happiness in Book I). It is because of this sort of intuition that the inclusive reading gained so much popularity so quickly. What I am suggesting in terms of the two lives I think attains the best of both worlds: it shows how the ethical man can be happy and at the same time maintains the integrity of the 'happiness as theorin' thesis of

X.7-8 by suggesting that even the ethical man is a potential contemplator.

How my thesis further differs from traditional exclusive interpretations will become clear below in the response I present to the problems above.

(1) In chapter 2 I argue that the good life for the virtuous man is the life of practical virtue ending in contemplation, whereas for the philosopher it is the combination of the life of practical and theoretical virtue ending in contemplation. Thus even though the philosopher and the (practically) good man share some activities qualitatively -i.e., the activities of practical virtue and therefore a secondary form of happiness- they do not do so quantitatively because of a difference in lifestyles. Such a distinction can be made clearer by differentiating the virtues of magnificence and generosity (IV. 1-2). The magnificent man is generous on a large scale because he has greater means as well as greater opportunities -what Aristotle calls the goods of fortune- for generous action. So the generous man gives but to a lesser extent because he has fewer external goods. In addition, his opportunities for giving are limited for a rich and famous man is more likely to be asked for favors than an ordinary one. In the same way, it is not that the philosopher is not

practically virtuous, but just that his lifestyle is such that he does not

have as much opportunity for virtue.

Does this mean that the philosopher's secondary happiness is also

quantitatively lesser than the politician's given this difference in their

practical lives? I don't think so, for the philosopher's life is fulfilled by

another form of secondary happiness. the pursuit of knowledge. The

secondary status of knowledge pursuit can be inferred from Aristotle's

statement in X.7 that possessing knowledge (sophia) and hence the

activity of contemplation is better and more pleasurable than pursuing it.

In both lives, virtuous activity, whether practical or philosophical, is

conceived, at least objectively, as training for the possibility of

contemplation, as will become clear in my response to 3 and 5.

la) An important distinction that is overlooked in the early presentations

of the inclusive position is between the life and activity of eudaimonia.

The happy life includes the satisfaction of numerous desires including ethical and political ones which constitute much of the activities of daily

Iife, whereas the primary activity of happiness is the6ria. Once this becomes clear it is easy to see how one's life can be centered around a single activity and at the same time involve the satisfaction of several other important aspirations. lb) There are two reasons why Aristotle spends as much time as he does

on ethical and political activity in Books I through IX: first, regardless of

whether or not one lives the political life or the philosophical one, practical virtue and certain minimal political duties are the central concern of any good citizen, and to this extent, must therefore be discussed in any conception of the good life. Second, Aristotle in much of the NE is concerned with how the practical life culminates in the6ria and therefore in the life of the practically wise politician. It is only in Books

VI and X that Aristotle directly considers the philosophical life and its relation to theoria. This must not be taken to mean that the latter texts are anomalies. For, as we shall see, they are consistent with the important arguments of self-sufficiency, completeness and function in Book I.

(lc) The external goods scenario becomes less problematic if we look at it from the perspective of the two different livzs. Both the philosopher and the politician need to be ethically virtuous and for this some external goods are necessary. But here the commonality ends; for the politician will, by the very nature of his work, need more external goods than the philosopher. Power, wealth and station to back his decisions, beauty and good friends to help persuade the many, and so on. The philosopher on the other hand, leads a much more private life with fewer requirements and therefore fewer contingencies to unsettle his life. So it isn't that Aristotle is being inconsistent when he at first says that a great many external goods are required for happiness, and later less, but that he is talking

about different requirements for different though ultimately equal lives.

(2) One implication is that in both lives, practical virtue seems to be a

mere means to contemplation and hence to happiness. That is, how can practical activity have intrinsic worth if it is ultimately deemed valuable simply because it promotes theGria? In chapter 3 I argue that this problem no longer arises if we see that thecria is the objective source of value though not the subjective motive of action. That is, practical virtue may derive its ultimate value from the fact that it is the practical manifestation of the same noetic capacity that makes contemplation possible, whereas the motive of the practical agent is the noble nature of the action itself.

Thus practical virtue in general is not a mere means to the end of theoria in the way that walking to Toronto is a mere means to getting to Toronto, for in the latter case the process of walking has an end in view; that of getting to Toronto. In the former case, on the other hand, you don't act virtuously with one eye on contemplation, for such pragmatic action is incompatible with acting for the sake of the action itself, and therefore with true virtue, though contemplation is the natural completion of practical virtue, as I will show.

Now the good man not only sees the end in each class of things that he deals with, and is therefore the standard in all situations (111.4). but being practically wise, he sees the end of man in general (VI.7,13). How does this work? Part of what it means to be functioning well

according to Aristotle, is to act virtuously. But to act virtuously is related

to rhe6ria in the way in which the well-functioning sub-ocular processes

are related to sight in an eye. In other words, thecria, the final human

good, is a natural evolution of life led well in accordance to the particular ends of practical virtue.

But if the&-ia is the end and thecria is of philosophical knowledge

as VI.12 and X.7-8 suggest it is, the good man must automatically be drawn to a theoreticallphilosophical life and hence to contemplation. But certainly this does not fit the bill for all good men; it fits the life of a

Plato or an Aristotle but not of a Pericles or even a Hector, for these individuals were far more interested in the ethical arena than in the philosophical.6 So were these men not happy in the primary sense?

Aristotle's answer in the NE, as I suggested in (I) above, is that the polltical life itself is only perfected in rhecria (see 1177b 13-15 for this) though he does not explicitly tell us how this is possible.

6 That even politicians must know some things in philosophy is indicated by the following text in I. 13 (1 102a22ff): "The student of politics, then, must study the soul, and must study it with these objects in view [i.e., that human happiness is an activity of the soul], and do so to the extent which is sufficient for the questions we are discussing; for further precision would perhaps involve more Iabor than our purposes require." Aristotle mentions in several places that we are corrupted by pleasure, at least insofar as we pursue it to the exclusion of all else (see

11.3 and 111.4 for instance). He also says that we contemplate only when our natural states have been restored by processes such as eating and drinking and that such processes are pleasurable not in themselves but coincidentally, as they restore us to our natural state (VII. 12). Now virtue is concerned with pleasure and pain (11.3) since all actions, virtuous or not, are accompanied by one or the other. Since it is the temperate man who will always act in accordance with the mean regarding pleasure

(111.10-12), he and onIy he will be able to restore his body to its natural state and therefore be able to contemplate. But the presence of any virtue like temperance implies the presence of practical wisdom, which in turn implies the presence of virtue in general (VI.13). It therefore follows that for Aristotle one cannot contemplate unless one is virtuous, for only the virtuous are in harmony with themselves.

But this simply tells us that virtue is a pragmatic requirement; that it provides a level of clear-headedness (available perhaps from other sources, drugs for instance) necessary to contemplate. Is practical virtue essentially connected with the makeup of contemplation? To help us answer this question, I will turn to the EE and its explanation of contemplation which is specifically in the context of the man of complete practical virtue. The highest form of contemplation, as we shall see, is contemplation of God and not of the heavens or of a complete picture of knowledge. Such contemplation results in non-philosophers because all

humans are essentielly related to the divine Kalon or the noble, for it is

divinity which makes all noetic activity possible in us, a relation that

becomes manifest in the acts of practical virtue whose sole motive is

nobility itself.

Thus contemplation is not restricted to the philosopher but is in fact

the natural culmination of the practical life as well, a move which also

allows us to overcome the problem of elitism. This is not to say that

access to such activity is easy, since for Aristotle excellence is never

easy, but at least it does not restrict the possibility of the good life to a

small percentage of the population who are philosophers. 7

3) Why would a contemplator ever do anything but contemplate since

contemplation seems to be an incommensurably better activity than any other? One answer that comes to mind is that for the practically wise non-

philosopher at least, practical virtue seems - as I suggested in (2) - to be

a necessary and sufficient condition for contemplation. But what of the philosophical life? What is the place of virtue in the life of an

Anaxagoras? Couldn't such a person - whose theo'ria VI. 12 seems to suggest is simply the actualization of accumulated sophia or philosophical

7I say 'the possibility of the good life' because not all philosophers are contempIators for Aristotle (see his reference to Thales and Anaxagoras in V1.7).

14 wisdom and does not seem to be connected with practical virtue in any way - act viciously so long as it promotes theGria?

In chapter 4 I will argue that practical virtue is required of the philosophical contemplator for at least one reason that it is required of the non-philosophical but practically wise one; practical virtue restores the body to its natural state. In addition, I will show - based on considerations of self-friendship in VIII and IX - that it is only the practically wise philosopher who can in fact be a contemplator, thereby establishing practical virtue as a necessary condition of contemplation.

In IX.4 Aristotle describes the virtuous man as one who is a friend to himself. He says that unlike the weak willed man, the good man's body and soul are in harmony so that he can activate and preserve the best element within him; i.e., nous or that element that allows him to contemplate. But thecria is possible only when nous is in command and unifies the various elements of the soul, and nous is in command only in practically wise men. So while it's true that the activity of the intellectual element within us is incomparably superior to any other activity, we cannot contemplate if we are not one with ourselves, and we cannot be one with ourselves unless we are virtuous, even if it sometimes means that moral activity may lead to our demise. The implications, as we shall see, are broad-ranging and affect both incontinent and vicious individuals to the extent of making thecria an impossibility for them. Finally, Aristotle says that contemplation can be and is sustained

longer than any other activity and involves leisure and freedom from other

obligations (X.7).But how can we contemplate continuously if we have

moral obligations to fulfill? My suggestion is that if contemplation results

from a long process of training, be it philosophical or ethical/political,

such an outcome must take time. That is, one contemplates only towards

the end of one's life when the process of training is complete. But this is

also the time when the individual's obligations to society and family are

minimal and when in fact one's needs are taken care of by one's children, or when, as in an ideal state (cf. Politics VII.9 1329a26-34), the older citizens, who are provided a rest from active service, are appointed - appropriately enough - as priests for the worship of the Gods. This, I will argue, is why Aristotle insists in so many places that happiness requires a complete life, for while one can live a life that has the makings of happiness, one's life is not complete until one is a contemplator, something that happens at a relatively late stage in one's life.

4) One of the problems in the Iiterature on happiness in Aristotle has been the treatment of thecria as an unknown X that tops off an individual's hierarchy of ends. In order to understand human contemplation, in chapter

5 I examine Aristotle's considered position on divine thecria as it is presented in Metaphysics Lambda. Traditionally, there have been three ways of understanding God's activity of Thought Thinking Thought presented there: that God has detailed knowledge of the world and its

objects as well as of its laws (histological and nomological knowledge),

or that he has only nomological knowledge, or that he has only knowledge

of himself. I will argue that for various reasons having to do with God's

simplicity and goodness, God has only knowledge of himself, More

interestingly, Aristotle's conception of divine self-knowledge suggests

that God's activity is simply the activity of unconditioned contentless

awareness (see Sparshott 1994 and Kosman 1992 who also seem to

suggest this position), and that it is this activity of God construed as

Active Intellect that makes thinking and perceiving possible in lesser

beings.

Such a reading of Lambda clears up a number difficulties associated

with the infamous chapters 4 and 5 of De Anirna 111, which in turn helps

us determine the nature of human the6ria. For not only is human fhe6ria

of God, but it is godlike insofar as it emulates God's activity as Aristotle

tells us in both Lambda and NE X.7-8,and, more interestingly, becomes

one with God's activity, as we shall see.

Finally, in chapter 6 I show that the position of both Lambda and

the EE that the highest form of contemplation is of God is indeed

endorsed in the NE, and that here the explanation comes explicitly in terms of sophia or philosophy. This explication presupposes an

understanding of some of the most difficult passages in the Ethics that

have to do with moral perception and action in particular circumstances and completes the discussion of ethical action entered upon in chapter 3.8

It is time therefore to begin, as Aristotle would say, at the beginning.

8 Since the NE has been extensively commented on, I have been forced to restrict my bibliography by using the following criteria: Reliance on the last one hundred years of literature with a few exceptions such as Aquinas's commentaries on the NE and the De Anima; focus on publications of the last twenty years except in cases where articles and books previous to that are very important, for instance, Cooper (1975) and Jaeger (1948). The following books will be referred to throughout the thesis: the commentaries of Stewart (1892),

Joachim (1955) Hardie (1980), and Broadie (1991) along with the two full

Length studies on happiness in the NE by Cooper (Cooper) and Kraut (1989). Chapter 2

On the Relation of Books I and X of the

Nicomachean Ethics

The study of the Nicomachean Ethics has not been the same since

W.F.R. Hardie (1967 pp. 297-300) suggested that there might be an inconsistency in Aristotle's conception of happiness in Book I, and thereby in the whole of the Ethics, since determining the nature of happiness seems to be Aristotle's explicit purpose in this treatise. Hardie thought that while Aristotle's stated view is that eudaimonia is a single activity (the dominant view), it was also his occasional insight that no single desire can dominate a life, and that happiness must therefore consist in the satisfaction of several different important desires (the inclusive view). Ackrill, taking Hardie's lead, went on to argue that while

Books I through IX present a consistently inclusive view (1980 p. 16- l7), it is only in X.7 and 8 that Aristotle presents the dominant view for reasons having more to do with his anthropology and theology than with his ethics (p. 33).' The main thrust of Ackrill's argument was that by 'the

1 Cooper (1975) writing at about the same time as Ackrill (whose paper was originally published in 1974) suggests a similar view but based prirnariIy on considerations of Book VI. for the sake of' relation and its application to eudaimonia, Aristotle does not mean that happiness is a distinct end apart from the activities that are somehow means to it, like shoemaking for the sake of shoes, but, that it is an inclusive end not different from the activities that constitute it, just as golfing, boating, swimming, etc. are for the sake of having a good holiday but not different from what it means to have a good holiday. Thus eudaimonia is not something that one has to look forward to at the end of one's life, but that the whole of one's life is made up of bits and pieces of eudairnonia (pp. 18-19).

Ackrill's interesting and powerful argument elicited agreement regarding the inclusive nature of eudairnonia in I-IX and the consequent incompatibility with X (for this and other reasons) from several scholars such as Adkins 1978, Cooper 1975, Monan 1968, Nussbaurn 1986, Moline

1983, White 1981 and Wilkes 1980. But it increasingly became clear from the emerging work of people like Broadie 1991, Cooper 1987, Curzer

199 1, Devereux 198 1, Eriksen 1976, Heinaman 1988, Kraut 1989, Kenny

1991, and Keyt 1983, that Books I and X were in fact very closely connected, not only because of the obvicus references in each to the other, but also in terms of the continuity of the overall argument. The key argument, which I think is best exemplified in the work of Heinaman

(1988 pp. 32-33), is as follows: The total life of a human being consists of various activities like thinking, perceiving, growing, digesting, etc., each of which is called a 'life' by Aristotle. Thus when he identifies a certain type of life with happiness, he means for us to understand 'life' in this sense of activity, and not as 'total life.' The components of the total life on the other hand, will consist not only in the activities of primary and secondary eudnirnonia - contemplation and practical virtues - but those of nutrition and perception as well. Such a reading satisfies Hardie's original intuition that a good life must include the fulfilling of a number of desires while at the same time retaining the primacy of thecria.

Though 1 think the distinction that the life of eudairnonia as including many activities including those of primary and secondary eudairnonia is essentially correct, 1 am not sure it satisfies all our inclusive intuitions regarding Book I (cf. Kenny 1991 p. 78). For while

Aristotle does narrow down happiness to a single activity in several places in Book I (1098a17, 1098b30 and 1099a 30-3 1 for instance), which he explains to be contemplation in X, one can't help but think that Book I is primarily interested in the political rather than in the philosophical life.

It is true that the philosophical life will include the moral virtues as X.8

(1 178b5ff) tells us, but Book X's hero is Anaxagoras who requires very little to live his quiet contemplative life (1 178b36-1179a9). Such a life in

X.7&8 is contrasted sharply with the political one which requires more external goods, and whose hero seems to be a Pericles rather than an

Anaxagoras. Book I - which also seems to have a Periclean hero such as a less unfortunate Priam - emphasizes the importance of political science

(I. 1&2) and a full complement of external goods (1.8 1099a32-b8), yet at the samz time hints that the final end of such a life is contemplative activity.

In this chapter I want to suggest that Aristotle in Book I and in much of the NE is interested in the political life that leads to contemplation and it is not until Book VI that Aristotle even begins to discuss the philosophical iife that culminates in contemplation, as is clear in the discussion of theo'ria in X. I show that the Book X discussions of the6ria do in fact discuss contemplative activity in the context of the two different lives in a way that renders Aristotle's treatment of external goods consistent, and at the same time fully satisfies our inclusive intuitions regarding Book I. Such an investigation will require a thorough examination of Book 1 in the context of Book X in terms of the self- sufficiency, completeness and function arguments, as well as the distinction between the activity and life of eudaimonia with which I propose to begin the discussion.

2.1 PoliticaI Science

Aristotle begins the NE with what is often thought to be a fallacious argument at 1094a1-3. Thus Anscombe 1964 p. 34, renders it as: 'All activities aim at some good therefore every activity aims at the same good.' But others (for differing reasons) I think rightly acquit him of this fallacy by suggesting that Aristotle does not assume the conclusion but in fact proves it in what follows (e-g., Broadie 1991 p. 8, Hardie 1980 pp. 16- 17, Ackrill 1980 pp. 25-6). Aristotle suggests that human activities usually fall into some sort of hierarchy. Thus bridle-making falls under horse-riding which in turn is subsumed by strategy, and so on in other instances as well. In all such cases, the art for the sake of which the subordinated activity is undertaken is normally preferred (1094 10- 15).'

' Ackri11 (1980 pp. 18-19), as I explained earlier, understands the relationship between bridle-making and riding, not as a subsumption, but as contribution.

His example is the relation between putting and golfing where putting is undertaken for the sake of golfing and is at the same time a part of what it means to golf. But note that this does not work in the original example given in the text, for bridle-making is not a part of riding in the way putting is of golfing, but rather, a distinct and subordinate activity to riding. Ackrill thinks his example is appropriate because Aristotle clearly distinguishes activities

(e-g., golf) that are the ends of actions (putting) where the latter can therefore be constituents of the ends, as opposed to products (bridles) of actions (bridle- making) which must clearly be separate ( lO94al7- 18). But Aristotfe distinctly tells us '...that it makes no difference if the activities themselves are the ends of the actions, or something apart from the activities ...' (1094a16-17ernphasis added). For, as in Aristotle's example above, horse-riding is an activity for the sake of which bridle-making is undertaken, yet bridle-making is clearly not a constituent of horse-riding as putting is to golfing. Thus what applies to the horse-riding example must also apply to activities subordinated to other activities, which means that the subordinated activities cannot be constituents of the higher activity (cf. Heinarnan 1988 pp. 38-39 for a similar defense based But more importantly, I think Aristotle's point is that it is the higher and

more final activity that is desired for itself and not for anything else that

makes the lower one meaningful and therefore good. In other words, it is

only because we think horse-riding to be a good that we take bridIes and

hence bridle-making to be goods as well. Yet there must be a termination to such a hierarchy of goods in a final good that gives the others their intelligibility, for otherwise we would not recognize the intermediate goods as goods in the first place.

But given that one can think of human endeavor as falling into several different hierarchies, can't it be the case that the final good is itself made up of several final goods that are desirable for themselves, and that it is ultimately this intrinsic desirability that makes the activities of their respective hierarchies good, as the inclusive reading suggests? At this point (1.1) Aristotle leaves open this possibility, and considers and rejects it, as we shall see, at the beginning of 1.7.

We should note therefore that even though Aristotle has not yet proved that the human good is a single most final end, he does think that all human endeavor falls under this good in a single hierarchy. So the goods that constitute the hierarchy are good in light of the final human

on slightly different considerations). Ackrill's use of the golfing example and his understanding of the text therefore cannot be correct. In chapter 3 1 will show how ethical activity, though an end in itself, does in fact lead to the activity of contemplation. good, theoria, and consist of the good life of the individual, distinct from the human good that perfects the hierarchy.

Rather than discuss the human good in terms of the individual,

Aristotle proceeds to discuss it in the larger social context, and there are several reasons why he does this: First, because there is a pre-existing area of study - political science - that is interested in determining the order of the hierarchy of the good in terms of the social order (1094a26- b7), whereas it is much less obvious that the same thing goes on in the individual context. Second, because, the good is finer and more godlike to attain for a city than it is for an individual (1094b7-11). This second point is important because Aristotle explicitly suggests, contrary to what some scholars have thought (e-g., Hardie 1980 p. 15; Moline 1983 p. 41), that this final good is accessible to more than a privileged few. Thus he tells us in 1.9 (1099b29-32) that."it [i.e., happiness] will also on this view be very generally shared; for all who are not maimed as regards their potentiality for virtue may win it by a certain kind of study and care."

Third, Aristotle, in this chapter, is interested in laying out the objective order of goods, and not necessarily the subjective motivation for action within an individual's life, a task best accomplished at the social level. In other words, he does not want to suggest that the final good may be the motive or end for all the actions of an individual, though it might be his end qua human being3 For the individual, political life may have different kinds of ends, as we shall soon discover. Because Aristotle is aware that

'end' in the context of politics can mean different things, he warns us that the end meant here is so in only one sense of that term (1094b1 l-12).~

It is generally agreed by all, says Aristotle, that the final good that humans aim for is happiness, but there is disagreement on what happiness consists of (1095a16-20). Aristotle's procedure in I.4&5 is slightly different. Here he is interested in taking stock of what common and refined opinions have to say about the subjective end of life in order to glean something of value from them regarding the objective end.' That is, he is interested in cataloging the different answers to the question, 'What kinds of lives best embody the end or meaning of life?' All the responses,

Aristotle thinks, fall into three possible lives: that of pleasure, politics or contemplation. I take each of these in turn.

Many do in fact take the end of life to be pleasure (or amusement), and perhaps this is so because they are encouraged by those in high places

' In chapter 3, I will offer a similar reading of VI. 13 1145a7-11 and other, comparable texts in the EE.

4 Translating "he men oun rnerhodos toutfin ephietai, politikFris ousa" to say

"These, then, are the ends at which our inquiry aims, since it is political science, in one sense of that term" with Ross's original translation (in agreement with Rackham's and Irwin's) and not with the Revised Oxford one.

5 This is much more explicit in the EE (1.2 1214b6ff). who live such lives. But Aristotle - perhaps too quickly - dismisses such

a life as beastly in 1.5 (1095b20-23). However, he gives a fuller justification for this dismissal in X.6 (1 176b9-2177a10), where two

explanations are given: We do not take the life of tyrants as a guide

regarding pleasure, just as we don't take what children believe to be

valuable to in fact be so. For boys don't really yet know what is truly

valuable. In the same way, the tyrants don't know any better since their

knowledge is limited to bodily pleasure, whereas the good man has tasted

both the pleasures of virtue as well as those of the body and is therefore

in the best position to judge their value. Since the good man by definition

thinks virtue and not pleasure to be his end, pleasure as the final end must

be rejected. We should note at this point that Aristotle does not reject

pleasure as part of the good and happy life, as is clear from his point

about the pleasures of virtue, and will become clearer in our discussion of

1.8 and X.7 (1 177a23-28).

Second, to make amusement the end of everything we do is to trivialize life since serious things are thought to be better than trivial things. It is more appropriate therefore that we amuse ourselves for relaxation so that we can get back to serious work, rather than vice versa.

Notice that Aristotle doesn't say that we cannot make amusement the subjective end of our actions, for it is all too obvious that many do; but that it cannot be the objective one we are seeking. For, as Ross (1949 p. 225) succinctly puts it, while pleasure is desired for itself, it is not

valuable for its own sake.

It is odd that Aristotle would want to see if the end of the political

life is happiness in the true sense in I.4&5, after having said very clearly

in 1.2 that the end of political science is in fact the human gooC. The

reason Aristotle proceeds in the way he does is because there is more than

one motive (or end) for living the political life, and even the right end

does not seem to be the final good that Aristotle is seeking. Let me

explain what I mean.

All people who live the political life do so for the sake of honor or

virtue. By honor Aristotle means the respect, awe and even fear with

which men in power are held. But this is quickly rejected as the final

good, since the things we do to obtain honor are our own, whereas honor

not only depends on others to give, but is easily lost for it depends on

someone else to be ours. Thus honor cannot be the good we are seeking

since the good is something that we take to be ours (1095b22-26). What is

implicit in this rejection is the point that Aristotle will soon make

regarding happiness as activity (1095b334096a2): The end must be mine

because happiness is my activity and honor bestowed does not qualify on either of these counts.

Aristotle does not want to suggest that honor has no place in the political life. For those who make practical virtue rather than honor their end, do seek honor from others who are known to be virtuous in order to confirm their own virtue, which means virtue and not honor is what they ultimately seek. Moreover, what is sought is not simply virtue in the sense of having the state or hexis of virtue, but in terms of the actualization of this virtue in practical activity. For otherwise we would have to call a sleeping person happy qua sleeping or when he has his virtuous activity impeded by misfortune, which is absurd ( 1095b26-1096a2). Aristotle then postpones the contemplative life for later discussion and then rejects money-making as a possible end for life since the pursuit of wealth is undertaken for the sake of something else for which money is used, and therefore is not a final end (1096a2-9).

Clearly Aristotle rejects honor and money-making as possible subjective ends of life, but he does not do the same for practically virtue activity. I suggest this is because he thinks that moral excellence is in fact the end of action. Scholars (e-g., Keyt 1995 p. 168) have been puzzled by the fact that in his discussions of virtue in the NE in general, Aristotle simply takes it to be the case that virtuous action is in fact the paramount end in life, whereas Book X seems to overturn this postulate and replace it with contemplation without a second thought. I don't think there is any such inconsistency, for while Aristotle thinks practical virtue is the end of action, it is not - for reasons that will become clear in our consideration of finality in 1.7 - the final good or the objective end of man that

Aristotle is looking for in 1.2. Given that man for Aristotle is a political animal (IX.9 1169b17ff), regardless of whether he lives the political or philosophical life, virtuous activity is always the paramount end of action

(cf. Broadie 1991 pp. 45-48). Finally, there is at least one more reason that the case for practical virtue is not ciosed. For, as it turns out, in the objective order of goods practically virtuous activity constitutes a secondary form of eudaimonia and therefore an essential ingredient in the happy life (X.8 1178a9-lo), as we shall see.

So when he postpones his discussion of the contemplative life, it is because nobody makes contemplation the end of his life, and he is concerned in 1.5 with just such a subjective end of action. Even a philosopher thinks in terms of truth or knowledge for its own sake (or

Learning, paideinn, as EE 1.2 1214b9 puts it) and not contemplation as being the purpose of his life. And a good philosopher will (as I show in chapter 4) subsume his occupational ends to the demands of virtue. Thus while contemplation may be the objective end of the good life, 1.5 is not the appropriate place for its discussion. 6

It is possible to think that 1.5 rejects practical virtue as the final end. For, right after his rejection of money-making, Aristotle says "But it is evident that not even these are ends-although many arguments have been thrown away in support of them. Let us then dismiss them." (109669-1 1). Clearly the rejection includes honor and money-making, but does it include virtue as well? I suggest we not take this to be a blanket rejection of all the suggested ends in 1.5, for we would then have to include a rejection of contemplation as well, even though it is only brieffy mentioned. Therefore I think it is better we see this as a 2.2 Finality, Perfection and Completeness

What have we learnt about the objective good from the discussion in IS? It is clear that Aristotle thinks happiness must be an activity, and while practical virtue is not ruled out as the subjective end of action, other ends such as honor and money-making are ruled out as possibilities.

After discussing and rejecting the Platonic notion of the good in 1.6,

Aristotle returns to the good that he is seeking at the beginning of 1.7. It seems clear, he says, that different activities have different ends; medicine has health, strategy victory, and so on. It may be thought that every activity falls under a single end, or, Aristotle concedes, it is possible that there are several ends of action and not just one (1097a15-

23), which would mean that the final good is some sort of compound.

This suggestion clearly shows that Aristotle does not take himself to have proved in 1.1 (1094a1-3) and 1.2 (1094a18-22) that there is some single final end, since up to this point he is open to the possibility that the final good is a compound of several independent goods with their own subordinate hierarchies. Moreover, when Aristotle says at the beginning of 1.7 that he is resuming the inquiry, the question he is interested in answering is the one I take him to be asking in 1.2: 'What is the objective,

rejection only of those ends that Aristotle gives reasons for rejecting; i-e., honor and money-making. final, human good (or possibly goods)?' Hence the similarity (and in the instance of medicine the identical nature) of the examples used here and in I. 1 (1094a6-9).

However, in what follows in 1.7 (1097a24ff), Aristotle begins his presentation of why he thinks that there is only one final good for man that constitutes the essence of his happiness. Certain goods, he says, such as wealth (as we saw) are means and not ends in themselves (1097a25-27).

But there are some goods that are ends in themselves, and therefore final

(teleia), but also means to other ends (1097a30-34). Such would be honor, pleasure, reason (nous) and virtue in general, for all these are chosen for themselves as well as for the sake of happiness 'judging that by means of them we shall by happy.' But happiness, whatever it is, is something that we choose for itself and never for the sake of anything else, unlike the other goods, and is therefore final without qualification (teleiotaron)

( 1097a36-b7).

Based on Metaphysics V.6, I understand 'teleia' in the above as

'final' (having reached its end) as opposed to 'complete' (having all its parts) or the more neutral 'perfect7 (unsurpassed in excellence). The

Revised Oxford translation of Ross (revised by Urmson and Ackrill) translate 'teleia' in this context as 'complete' in accordance with

Ackrill's understanding of the 'for the sake relation' discussed previously. While I think 'teleia' can be translated as 'complete' and

'perfect' aside from 'final,' and that all these three senses of the word are present in the NE, 'final' is the most appropriate reading here.' First, we

may note that 'final' is Ross's original translation. Second,

'completeness' suggests that the final ends contribute and are part of more

final ends, as opposed to being subsumed under and distinct from them. I

have shown this is not what Aristotle means by the 'for the sake of'

relation in footnote 2, which is why I use 'final' in the argument above.

For clearly Aristotle means to say that happiness is most endlike

(teleiotaton) rather than intermediate ends since it is not pursued for the sake of anything else (1097a3 1-6). 'Perfect,' the third alternative, is neutral and can be used to mean both 'final' and 'complete' (cf. Kenny

1992 p. 5) and is therefore suitable here. But 1 think it is more appropriate a translation of 'teleia' in the context of 'teleia eudaimonia' in Book X as

I will show, for Aristotle has not yet shown us that the activity of happiness is unsurpassed in excellence per se.

What cannot be subjective ends of action certainly cannot be the objective (most) final good that we are seeking, and pleasure, honor and wealth are rejected here for exactly that reason. Konor, because it assures us of our virtue, and pleasure or amusement, because it does not have the

--

7 Some, like Kraut (1989 p. 67 note 46) think that one should use a single translation of 'teleia' throughout 1.7 and X.7&8. This seems to me to be an odd position and needs to be explained before it can be assumed, something that I don't think Kraut does. For I think it is more obvious that 'releion' means different things in different contexts, as I will show. value of a final end. But why virtue?* Aristotle only hints here why he

thinks that practical virtue cannot be the most final good, and does not

give us his reasons until Book X. But it is a crucial postponement that

needs to be examined here in order to understand Aristotle's position in

both the Books.

Prior to this stage in X.7 (1177b1-21), Aristotle has already stated

that the final good or happiness is the activity of contemplation (1 177al1-

18), for reasons that I will examine presently. Here, it is important to see

in terms of finality, why he thinks contemplative activity is the most final

activity whereas practical activity is not, and his reasoning seems to be

this: Contemplative activity is the only activity that is loved for its own

sake, for practical activity is undertaken for the sake of attaining leisure.

For we go to war to secure peace, and political life aims ultimately for the attainment of happiness for the politician and his fellow citizens, 'a

happiness different from political activity and sought as being different.'

This last line is crucial in many ways for the understanding of Book X as

8 I take this to be a rejection of practical virtue as the final end, given that

Aristotle rejects it together with pleasure, honor and wealth, all of which were discussed in 1.5. And since virtue in 1.5 clearly means practical virtue, I take it to mean the same here. I am not sure what the inclusion of nous here is meant to signify, since nous is a multi-faceted word. Perhaps Aristotle simply means rationality insofar as it is part of human activity, as is suggested by the Oxford translation of 'nous' as 'reason.' will become clear in the last section of this chapter. But the relevant point

here is that practical activity is always undertaken to attain something,

and that is why it is essentially practical. Now this does not mean that

practical activity is simply a mere means to procuring something, for it is undertaken for its own sake, as it is the paramount subjective end of action, as I suggested with regards to 1.5. In fact Aristotle makes it a requirement of virtuous action that it be undertaken for its own sake in

11.4 (1 104a30-32).

These two lines of thought are not incompatible, and Aristotle is not being inconsistent in Book X, as some have suggested, when he makes contemplation the paramount end instead of practical virtue. For while virtue is the subjective end of action, contemplation is the objective human good. For instance, the ultimate goal of courageous activity is the procurement of victory in battle, but this does not mean that courageous acts are not undertaken for their own sake. For even if it sometimes becomes clear that defeat and death are immanent, one still undertakes to act courageously because this is what it means to be virtuous. Even so, this sort of activity is still goal oriented; i.e., it is still undertaken to achieve something, in this case, to make a stand. This explains why

Aristotle says that contemplative activity alone is loved for itself

(1 177bl), for only contemplative activity is truly loved for itself and not for any possible practical outcome. Clearly then, the motive for virtuous action can be the outcome itself which is virtuous which just reiterates the point that virtuous action is primarily goal oriented (cf. Hardie 1980 p.

356; Keyt 1995 p. 182. See also Heinaman 1993 pp. 35-37 for variations on this theme). Nor has Aristotle forgotten in Book X that practical virtue is undertaken for its own sake, as is clear from X.6 (1176b1-8), where he explicitly tells us as much.9 All Aristotle is telling us in X.7 1177b 1-21 is that because practical activity by its very nature has an outcome, it is final but not most final. Whereas contemplation is not only undertaken for its own sake, but does not have any possible practical outcome. It is, in other words, the most useless of all activities, for even science undertaken for its own sake can make a practical difference in our lives (e.g., predicting the weather and hence the crop yields); contemplation does not.

In addition, Aristotle gives two more reasons for why contemplative activity is the most final activity of man: First, because it is the virtuous or excellent activity of the highest element in us, and the objects of contemplation are the highest possible objects (X.7 1177a11-

16). I cannot go into the details of what I think Aristotle means here exactly (though see chapters 5 and 6), but his basic point is this: If an activity X is higher in the hierarchy than activity Y, then X is more final

9 Moline (1983 p. 40) suggests that it is only X.7 & 8 that are inconsistent with the rest of the NE and not X.1-6 and 9. But the EE too states a similar juxtaposition all in the space of one chapter (VII-IS), and I am not sure that one can dismiss this as an interpolation as easily. I will examine this issue in more detail in chapter 3. than Y. Now Aristotle thinks that rational activity is higher and therefore more final than perceptual and nutritive activities, and that rational activities themselves rank in some order, based on their objects. For instance, we have already seen that practically virtuous activity (which involves reason) is not the highest kind of rational activity. For, aside from being an end in itself, contemplation is the most final activity because it has to do with the highest of objects (God as I explain in chapters 5 and 6), whereas the objects of practical reason are human concerns and therefore final but not most final (V1.7 1140b20-33;X.8

1 178a9-22).

Second, the activity of contemplation is the most final of all living activities because it is most like the activity of God (X.8 1178b8-23). For

God being the best and happiest being in the world, his activities will exemplify his well-being. And God's sole activity is that of contemplation and the human activity that most resembles God's - human contemplation

- is therefore the most final activity that man can attain. lo Aristotle arrives at the conclusion that God's activity is contemplation in a rather

'O This also explains why ethical activities are secondary to the6ria. For human contemplation, the activity of nous, is the closest we can come to divine activity and therefore the best activity we can undertake. Whereas practical activity, because it too involves reason and hence nous, is further removed from divine activity and therefore less the nature of happiness (cf. Kraut 1989 pp.

58-9; Cooper 1987 p. 21 1). More on this in chapters 3, 5 and 6. unusual way by eliminating the possibility that God is a moral being, for the need for morality is based on the possession of the appetites and it would be in bad taste to say that he has such appetites. Of course, the conclusion that he must therefore be a contemplator may seem then too hasty. For, even though it might be the case that God is a contemplator, it needs to be shown that moral and contemplative activities are exhaustive possibilities for him.

In Metaphysics Lambda Aristotle does indeed undertake to show that God's activity is that of contemplation, and it is not simply a hasty conclusion that he reaches in Book X of the NE. All Aristotle is trying to do in the NE is show why he thinks contemplation is the most final human activity by reminding us of its close similarity to God's, and, at the same time, reject the popular conception of gods as practically active. Because

God's activity embodies perfection that is unsurpassed in excellence,

Aristotle tells us that the human activity of contemplation is also the activity of perfect (teleia) happiness (X.7 1177a18; X.8 1178b8). So far,

'telein', whether in the context of virtue or of happiness means 'final' because in such contexts it is clear that Aristotle is talking about degrees of finality. But now because the activity of teleia happiness is discussed in terms of unsurpassed excellence and goodness of God, it is clear that

'perfect' is how Aristotle means for us to understand 'telein' here (cf.

Kraut 1989 pp. 43-46). Aristotle also uses 'teleia' in the context of the teleia Iife in two

different places in the NE (1.7 1098a18-19; X.7 1177b25), by which I take

him to mean 'the complete life' insofar as it has all its parts. To see this,

we have to examine the circumstances in which this usage of 'teleia'

occurs.

The first is at the conclusion of the function argument which is

interested in determining the human good (and a complete examination of

which is presented in chapter 3). For the moment, it is enough to note that

Aristotle rejects the activities of perception and nutrition as being the

function of man, and settles on the activities" of reason instead, on the

I I As mentioned before in the introduction, Aristotle uses the locution of 'the

life of perception' and the 'life of reason' by which he clearly means 'the

activities of reason.' For, the activities of reason clearly presuppose those of

perception and nutrition and therefore Aristotle cannot possibly have meant

'life' in the sense of 'total life of reason.' (cf. Heinaman 1988 pp. 32-33) I use

'activity/life' distinction rather than the 'life/total life' distinction to keep the confusion at minimum.

Cooper (1975 pp. 159-164) claims that the moral life cannot be part of

the intellectual Iife, for by 'bios' Aristotle does not mean, as we do, that the same person has a sex life, a social life and a spiritual life; rather, 'bios' must

mean mode of life where at any one period of time one can have only one mode of life and that such a bios provides for the social and religious observances of that bios. But Keyt (1995 pp. 174-76) correctly points out that there is good evidence in the Politics (1.8 1256a40-b1) to show that Aristotle thinks we can

39 basis of their being peculiar to man (1098a1-4). But 'activities of reason'

not insofar as there are elements in us that obey reason (e-g., the passions

and appetites), but rather, the activities of the rational element itself

(1098a4-5). Now rational activities include practical ones, and Aristotle

clearly includes them in the function of a good man as requiring good and

noble actions in accordance with their appropriate virtues ( 1098a13- 15).

But then he narrows rational activities further to a single one by saying

"...human good turns out to be activity of soul in conformity with virtue,

and if there is more than one virtue, in conformity with the best and most

teleion [teleiotat&z].' (1098a16-17). 'Most teleion' clearly modifies

'virtue' and therefore I take Aristotle to mean 'the most final (single)

virtue' and not 'the most complete virtues' because a similar narrowing occurs not once but twice in the following chapter (1.8 1098b25; 1099a30-

3 1) where Aristotle clearly says that amongst the best activities, one - the best of these (and not all of them) - is identified with happiness. 12

Aristotle follows this up immediately with:

live two modes of life (hunting and agrarian) simultaneously. Moreover, the NE also suggests this when Aristotle says in X that the life of reason is divine and then says that we live the moral life 'insofar as we are human' (1 177b27-

1178b5).

"Ackrill (1980 pp. 27-28) agrees with Hardie (1980 pp. 22-23) for he thinks that the function argument does not narrow happiness down to a single activity because there is nothing in the preceding argument to justify this alleged (1) But we must add 'in a teleiclife'. For one swallow does not make a summer, nor does one day; and so too one day, a short time, does not make a man blessed and happy. (1098a18- 19) Similarly, after having presented all his arguments for why contemplation is the activity of happiness in X.7, Aristotle says regarding contemplation that:

(2) it follows that this [i.e., contemplation] will be the perfect (teleia) happiness of man, if it be allowed a teleion term of life; for none of the attributes of happiness are ateles. ( 1 1 77b24-25)

narrowing. Besides, the EE supports a broader conception of function, thinks

Ackrill, since it says that happiness is activity in accordance with a11 the virtues. I will show in chapter 3 why Aristotle in fact does narrow happiness to a single activity. Also, as 1 will show in section 2.31 how in fact the function arguments in the NE and EE differ to the extent that the former is concerned with the activity of happiness and the latter with the life of happiness, and that therefore, the conclusion of the EE's function argument cannot be used to support an inclusive reading of the function argument in the NE.

Roche (1988 p. 186) argues that the end of the function argument must indicate complete and not final virtue because just a few lines earlier Aristotle has said that honor, nous, virtue, etc. we undertake for their own sake as well as for eudairnonia, which means that sophia, taken to be the activity of virtue, is undertaken for happiness, it cannot be most final and that therefore completeness rather than finality is what Aristotle must mean here. But Kenny (

1991 p. 72) rightly points out that sophia is a first actuality and can be undertaken for the sake of contemplation, a second actuality, which itself is not undertaken for the sake of anything else. Should we translate 'teleio' in (1) as 'final' and 'teleion' in (2) as

'perfect' to be consistent with how 'teleia' is translated prior to these occurrences in their respective contexts? I suggest not, for in the prior context of (1) 'teleia' modifies virtue and means 'final', and in (2)

'teleia' applies to happiness and means 'perfect.' And 'teleia life' cannot mean 'final life' (though it could possibly mean 'perfect life)' in these contexts, it is more appropriate to translate it as 'complete life.'

First, it is clear that Aristotle is talking of the total life in both (1) and (2), and not simply an aspect of an individual's life, and it is clear that Aristotle does not mean that X's life is more final than Y's, in the way in which activity A can be more final than activity B, for such a comparison, at least in this context, can only be undertaken within a single hierarchy and not across different ones. In any case, it seems intuitively implausible to say that someone has lived a final life and I know of no one who suggests this translation in this context. Second,

Aristotle could not possibly mean 'perfect life' because, as we saw,

'perfect' can either mean 'final' or 'complete' though I suggested we use it to refer to 'unsurpassed excellence' in the context of God's activity.

Now this sense cannot be the appropriate one here because we do more than contemplate in our lives (though insofar as we contemplate we undertake the activity of perfect happiness), whereas the life of perfect happiness is a designation of the God who does nothing but contemplate.

Therefore, 'complete life' in the sense of having all its parts is what Aristotle means here. For even a life that culminates in contemplation is incomplete if contemplation is not allowed to be carried out for a long enough period. Aristotle does not specify how much contemplation is enough, for one cannot specify how much contempiatlon there should be in a life, given differing individual dispositions and circumstances. But there is a lower limit, and that is all he is interested in pointing out here.

There is also another sense in which the very presence of contemplation indicates a complete life. For contemplation is the most final good that crowns the hierarchy of goods thereby indicating the presence of these goods in an individual's life. What are these goods? The most important of course is practical virtue as it is a secondary form of eudaimonia and the paramount end of practical life, which I shall argue

(in chapters 3 and 4) is an essential condition for the possibility of contemplation. In addition, as we shall soon see, a range of external goods, depending on one's station and calling. Thus while the happy life will include both the practical and contemplative virtues, it is only contemplation which Aristotle considers to be the primary activity of happiness.

Finally, there is another reason why the happy life requires a full term of life, for contemplation requires leisure from both politicaI and theoretical pursuits, for it is not itself knowledge-seeking (X.7 1 I.77a26-

27). Such freedom and ability comes, only after long experience and when one has retired from the active pursuits of life, to those who are supported by their children in their old age, as was the Greek tradition, or to those who spend their lives as keepers of temples as Aristotle in the Politics

(VII.9 1329a26-34) suggests old people should do. I explore this theme in some detail at the end of chapter 4.

2.21 Teleia in the EE.

It is appropriate that we look at the EE's conception of 'teleia' at this juncture, for recently scholars such as Rowe (197 I), Cooper (1975) and Kenny (1978 and 1992) have argued - basing their position on EE 11.1

1219a26-39 - that Aristotle's conception of eudaimonia in the EE is decidedly inclusive, whereas it is emphatically exclusive in the NE. Since

I will rely on the EE at crucial stages of the discussion in chapter 3, it is only reasonable that I show that both the treatises are at least consistent in terms of the conception of happiness they contain. Much of the support for the inclusive reading of the EE comes from the fact that 'teleion' in

11.1 is taken to mean 'complete7 as opposed to 'final,' where 'final' is generally taken to mean a single dominant end of life, and 'complete' to mean something more inclusive and generally consisting of a multiplicity of ends, both ethical and contemplative. Thus the EE tells us, happiness is teleion just as living is teleion or not teleion "...and so also excellence-one excellence being a whole, the other a part-and the activity of what is ateleicn is itself atelEs, therefore happiness would be the activity of a teleias life in accordance with teleian excellence." So happiness here is clearly defined as activity in accordance with complete virtue - as teleion, it is argued. in this context clearly means - as opposed to the NE where Aristotle adds a further caveat that if there is more than one virtue, then in accordance with the best of these.

It seems to me that the passage in question is talking about the life and not the activity of happiness. To see this, we have to examine the context of this argument. Everyone agrees, Aristotle says, that the best human goods are goods of the soul that are either states, capacities, activities or processes (1218b29-36). Now the excellence of a thing (e-g., a cloak) is its best state that has to with its employment or work (e.g., a good cloak keeps the wearer warm), and the activity or function of the thing is better than the state that makes the activity possible (1218b37-

1219a12). But the function of a thing can be distinct from the employment as in the case of house building and a house, though in others the employment is the function, as sight is the function and employment of the ability to see. In the latter kinds of cases where the employment is the same as the function, the employment is better than the state that makes the employment possible (1219a13-18). Now a shoe is the function as well as the activity of shoe-making, and the activity of excellent shoe- making is a good shoe as is the function of good shoe-making (1219a19-

23). If we assume that the function of soul is life, then the function of o good soul is rhe good life which is the perfect good that is happiness

(1219a23-26). Now the function of the soul is not distinct from its employment and therefore, as we saw above, the employment or activity of the good soul is the best thing. The activity of the good soul is virtuous activity (based on virtuous dispositions), which is therefore the best thing or happiness (12 19a26-34).

It is clear from the above which immediately precedes the passage that Kenny and Cooper refer to, that Aristotle is talking of the life of happiness which has to do with the activities of a good soul whose function and employment is the good life in general. Thus such a life of happiness - as we saw in the NE as well - will require not only complete virtue (both practical and contemplative) but a complete life in which they are actualized. It is true that AristotIe does not use 'teleia' here in the way he does in the NE to mean 'final' when applied to virtue and

'complete' when applied to life, but I think his meaning here is quite consistent with that in the NE.

But it could be objected that since the controversial discussion of

'teleia' comes at the end of the function argument in both treatises, must it not be the case that they are both looking for the same thing? No. because the function argument in the NE is driven by different considerations from the one in the EE, as we shall see in chapter 3, since it is interested in the function of man in terms of peculiarity. Thus the NE is concerned with activity(s) peculiar to man, whereas the EE is concerned with the function of a good soul in terms of the good life. Finally, I would like to consider how the usage of 'complete virtue'

in EE 11.1 fit with a similar usage in EE VII.15. While it seems to me that

'complete virtue' refers to both practical and contemplative virtue in 11.1,

it clearly means only 'practical virtue' in VII.15, a position that requires

detailed justification which I give in chapter 3. But it is time now to move

on to considerations of self-sufficiency in the NE which contain some of

the most powerful arguments for the inclusive position.

2.3 Self-Sufficiency

Aristotle has the following to say about self-sufficiency (autnrkeia)

in 1.7:

(1) From the point of view of self-sufficiency the same result seems to follow; (2) for the final (teleia) good is thought to be self-sufficient. (3) Now by self- sufficient we do not mean that which is sufficient for a man by himself, for one who lives a solitary life, but also for parents, children, wife, and in general for his friends and fellow citizens, since man is born for citizenship. (4) But some limit must be set to this; for we extend our requirement to ancestors and descendants and friends' friends we are in for an infinite series.. . (5) the self-sufficient we now define as that which when isolated makes life desirable and lacking in nothing; (6) and such we take happiness to be; (7) and further we think it most desirable of all things, without being counted (sunarithrnournen&) as one good among others - (8) if it were so counted (sunarithrnoumen6z) it would clearly be made more desirable by the addition of even the least of goods; (9) for that which is added becomes an excess of goods, and of goods the greater is always more desirable. (10) Happiness, then, is something find and self-sufficient, and is the end of action. It is controversial what exactly 'self-sufficient' means in this passage, partly because Aristotle means different things by 'self- sufficient life' and 'self-sufficient activity.' So let us begin by first examining the connection between self-sufficiency and finality that (1) and (2) say exists- In X.6 (1 175a36-b8) Aristotle tells us that the activity of happiness is most final because it is not desired for the sake of anything else (as we have already seen in 1.7 1097a30-36) 'for happiness does not lack anything, but is self-sufficient.' In other words, the self- sufficient nature of the activity of eudaimonia entails that it will not be desired for the sake of anything else and is therefore most final, and in fact, part of what it means for activity X to be more self-sufficient than Y is that X is more final than Y.Since we have already seen that contemplation is the final good that is not required for the sake of anything else, it is easy to see how it fulfills one of the important aspects of self-sufficiency.

Another aspect of self-sufficient activity is explained in X.7

1177a27-bl. As far as activities go contemplation needs almost no instrumental goods aside from the bare necessities of life, whereas the activities of practical virtue need people to be virtuous to and external goods to be virtuous with. For while we can contemplate with others we can do so without them as well. We should note that Aristotle is simply saying that as activities go, contemplation as the activity of eudaimonia needs fewer instrumental goods than moral activity, and not that the happy life (which encompasses practically virtuous activity as a secondary form of eudaimonia and therefore needs external goods) doesn't require external goods (cf. Curzer 1991 p. 50). More on this later. So far then I have suggested that 'self-sufficient' is to be understood as applying to one's activities, but does it also apply to one's life? Surely it does, for the question in (3) is 'what is self-sufficient not in the context of an isolated life but in the context of friends and family?'

And Aristotle's answer in (5) is this: the self-sufficient Z (which turns out to be contemplation in Book X) when present, by itself makes life intrinsically desirable and lacking in nothing. In other words, the presence of the self-sufficient activity implies that the life in which it is present is itself self-sufficient (cf. Broadie 199 1 p. 32). Now 'self-sufficiency' as a translation of 'autarkeia' is deficient in this respect, for 'autarkeia' also means 'autonomy' or 'freedom' (as Thompson renders it in the Penguin translation of the Ethics; cf. also Eriksen 1976 p. 51). Thus, the presence of contemplation in a life would itself not have been possible if the life itself were not autonomous and free? Hence Aristotle can say that "...the

l3 This brings us to a possible objection which runs as follows: If the life that culminates in contemplation includes the practical virtues and yet equates eudaimonia with the activity of theofia, how different is it from the inclusive conception which says pretty much the same thing except that the activities of eudaimonia include practical activity? A life is not happy in the full sense if it does not include the activity of contemplation (Kraut L989 pp. 268-269). If the life is cut short and only includes the practical virtues before it ends, then it is only secondarily happy as Aristotle tells us in X.8. On the inclusive reading, the absence of the6ria does not dramatically alter the happiness of an self-sufficiency, leisureliness, unweariedness ...and all the other attributes

ascribed to the supremely happy man [that is to his life] are evidently

those connected with this [contemplative] activity." (X.7 1 l77b2 1-24}

But (7)-(10) have, in the recent tradition, presented difficulties to

the exclusive reading. For, on Ackrill's (1980 pp. 21-22) reading, (8) is the conclusion of a reductio; eudaimonia cannot be the sort of thing that can be added to, and therefore, it cannot be a good among other goods (7).

Hence, eudaimonia must not be one among the desirable things because these can always be added to (9), but the sum of all desirable things (cf. also Moline 1983 p. 38). There are three reasons for rejecting this reading on contextual considerations of (7)-(9); first, the function argument that immediately follows restricts happiness to a single activity as we have seen. Second, such an argument ignores the distinctions which I suggest are present in (1)-(4) between the life and activity of happiness. For the life of eudaimonia will include all the goods but not necessarily the activity of eudaimonia. Finally, if eudaimonia includes all types of goods

(as is claimed by Irwin 1985 pp. 94-96), it must include the external goods as well. But the function argument that immediately follows specifies that only rational activities are included in eudaimonia, and as we shall see, I.8&9 say that external goods are instrumental for happiness

individual though it does make such a life incomplete since it is missing an important part. and needed in addition, but are not themselves parts of happiness. Hence

Ackrill's reading of this argument must be rejected.

Another way to read (7)-(9) is to deny that it is a reductio, as is done by Kenny (1977 p. 31; 1978 pp. 204-05)and Clark (1975 pp. 154-

55). Such a reading takes Aristotle to be saying that happiness (construed as contemplation) is the most choiceworthy good compared with the other goods, and that the addition of other goods does indeed make the sum more desirable. An alternate translation of (8) is also possible making the case for such a reading stronger. This is done by taking the second instance of 'sunarithmoumen~n'in (8) to be indicative rather than subjunctive (contrary to the Revised Oxford translation) to say 'if it is SO counted it is clearly made more desirable by even the least of goods.'

(Heinaman 1988 p. 42 note 29) But such a reading does not sit well with the latter part of (7) which tells us that it (happiness) is in fact not one good thing among others (mdsunarithrnournenEn).

How then are we to understand (7)-(9)? I agree that Aristotle is talking about the self-sufficient activity rather than the self-sufficient life here. But I think his point is this: happiness (or contemplation as we find out later in X) is the most desirable of things and not simply one among comparable good things because it is a trnnscenden? good. A transcendent good cannot be made better by the addition of any other good since it is associated with divinity and therefore not on the scale of comparison of compoundable human goods like practical virtue.14 How and why Aristotle thinks so is a theme that I take up in chapters 5 and 6, but for the moment, all I want to point out is that this seems to me to be a rather straight- forward reading of the text that does not involve any philological convolutions that the other readings may obligate. To quickly summarize then: thecria is self-sufficient because it is transcendent and cannot be added to like other goods can, which makes even clearer why such self- sufficiency entails the activity's most final nature since it is not possible to add to such an activity. The presence of such godlike activity in a life indicates that it is fulfilled, autonomous and complete.

2.4 Reconciliation and Recapitulation

Aristotle is not satisfied by just giving us the preliminary outline of the nature of happiness (I. 1-7), but wants to show in I.8&9 that his view is consonant with the facts (1098b9-11) and with received opinion

(endoxa). For, "...it is not probable that ... these [views] should be entirely

1J Kraut (1989 pp. 270-271) suggests that the difference is not simply qualitative but quantitative as well, which means not only that contemplation is the greatest of goods but also the greatest possible amount of contemplation in a life. I disagree because it seems to me that Aristotle is comparing contemplation as one among other goods in (7), and that the impossibility of addition in (8) and (9) is not of the same (and therefore quantitative) good but of other, different goods. mistaken, but rather that they should be right in at least some one respect or even in most respects." (1098 b26-29) Accordingly, Aristotle will show how the following fit in his own conception of happiness: Happiness (i) is an intrinsic good of the soul (1098b14), (ii) is living well and faring we11 ( 1098b20-2 11, (iii) involves all excellence, (iv) involves practical wisdom, (v) involves philosophical wisdom, (vi) involves a combination of practical wisdom and philosophical wisdom, (vii) involves practical wisdom and/or philosophical wisdom accompanied by, or not without, pleasure (viii) involves external prosperity. (1098b22-26) Obviously

Aristotle cannot mean that all these are consonant with his conception of the activity of happiness (though, as we shall see, some of them are) but rather with the life of happiness, and this will become clearer as we go along.

Since happiness is an activity (e.g., lO9Sb32- 196a2) and more specifically rational activity of the soul as the function argument has just told us (1098a3ff), Aristotle's view is conformant with the Platonists (and hence with (i)) who class happiness as a good of the soul and not among the external goods (1098b11-19). We should note that Aristotle explicitly rejects that any of the external goods are parts of happiness, though they may be needed instrumentally, as we shall in a moment.

Regarding (ii), living well and faring well have also been explicitly identified with happiness by people of superior refinement at 1095a18-19 but not by Aristotle himself, though Aristotle thinks he has (1098b20-22). In any case, this is not of great importance since saying that someone has

lived well and fared well is vague enough to mean different things coming

from different people. Hence a trader will say of another successful

merchant that he did live and fare well though he may not say that of

Anaxagoras. A philosopher, on the other hand, would probably say the

exact opposite of the respective lives. The important point is that

whatever conception of life we think is the right one, some instances of

these are successful where the individuals have lived and fared well, and

others are not, and such a designation must therefore be included in any

conception of happiness including Aristotle's.

(iii) says that happiness must involve all excellence, but Aristotle

in his reconciliation says "With those who identify happiness with

excellence or some one excellence our account is in harmony;" and then

goes on to emphasize that happiness is an activity and not simply the state

(hexis) that makes happiness possible (1098b304099a5). This narrowing

of happiness to one excellence is consistent of course with a similar one

at the end of the function argument (1098a16-17) that we have seen

already, and to the one to come in a few lines (L098b30-31). By this

single excellence, I suggest, Aristotle means the excellence of the6ria in

Book X, but this does not mean that the practical virtues are excluded in

the life of happiness. For in his discussion of why happiness involves

pleasure that immediately follows, Aristotle talks of practically virtuous

action as being pleasant, which means that :he practical activities must be part of the life of eudaimonia. Thus, while the activity of primary

eudaimonia may be contemplation, this doesn't mean that the life of

eudaimonia will not include practical virtue as an essential ingredient.

Turning to (vii), we have already seen that Aristotle has rejected in

1.5 that appetitive pleasure can be the objective human good. That is why

in (vii) he says that pleasure accompanied by or not without practical or

philosophical wisdom is a characteristic of happiness. Thus practically

virtuous activities (which must involve practical wisdom to be fully

virtuous as VI. 13 1 i45a3-6 tells us) must be essentially pleasant or such

actions would not truly be virtucus (1099a6-24). Is this move simply to

accommodate the views of others or is there more to Aristotle's insistence

that practically virtuous activities are essentially pleasant? I suggest that

there is more.

In X.4 (1 174133 1-33) Aristotle tells us that pleasure completes an

activity, though the details of this notion of completion are controversial

but not quite relevant for us here. It is enough for our purposes to know

that an activity (energein) is not complete if pleasure does not accompany

it, and if that is so, then it is clear why Aristotle thinks virtuous activities

are not complete if pleasure does not accompany them, because if they are

incomplete, they are not energeiai. For energeiai by definition are ends in themselves (Metaphysics Theta 8 105Oa24fi) and therefore complete. Now the requirement that virtuous action be pleasurable also makes sense from the perspective of intentionality. For if there is no pleasure involved in a person's actions which may nevertheless be ostensibly virtuous, then this

is an indicator that the person is performing these actions under

compulsion, be it of an instructor or of the law, and not for the sake of the

action itself which is a requirement of virtue (11.4 1105a3 1-32) and which

would thereby make it an energeia. Thus part of what it means to

undertake an action for its own sake is that the action be pleasurable.

Finally, while contemplation may be the most pleasant of all virtuous

activities (X.7 1177a23-27), it occupies too small a fraction of an

individual's life to say that it by itself makes the individual's life

pleasant. A full and happy life involves activities that are intrinsically

pleasant not only for parts of one's life, but for life in general (though not every moment of life need necessarily be so), pleasures that are both practical and contemplative.

At this juncture, it is important to note that Aristotle has considered in 1.8 directly all the endoxa except (iv)-(vi) (including external goods which, for the sake of exegetical convenience, I discuss in the next section). Perhaps we can say that he has included practical wisdom indirectly in his discussion of virtue, since, as I pointed out earlier, he does tell us in Book VI that full virtue is not possible without practical wisdom. But (v) and (vi) which discuss philosophical wisdom are missing.

I suggest that the reason for the omission is this: in Book I Aristotle is primarily concerned with the political life that leads to theGria and not with the philosophical one. It is only in Book VI that Aristotle even begins to consider the philosophical life that culminates in the&ria, a suggestion that I think will fully bear fruit in our examination of the external goods scenario in the next section.

2.5 External Goods

Aristotle has already told us that the external goods are not a part of happiness and in his discussion of (viii) he tells us why. He says:

(a) it [happiness] needs the external goods as well; (b) for it is impossible, or not easy, to do noble acts without the proper equipment. (c) In many actions we use friends and riches and political power as instruments; (d) and there are some things the lack of which takes the luster from happiness, as good birth, goodly children, beauty; for the man who is very ugly in appearance or ill-born or solitary and childless is not very likely to be happy, and perhaps a man would be still less likely if he had thoroughly bad children or friends or had lost good children or friends by death. (e) As we said, then, happiness seems to need this sort of prosperity in addition; (f) for which reason some identify happiness with good fortune, though others identify it with virtue (1099~~32-b8)

External goods are instruments of virtue. A good man needs wealth and political power to do good by others (c), and good birth, children and beauty add luster to one's happiness (d). Now (c) is thought to represent the instrumental goods that are good because they are used in virtuous action, and (d), the necessary conditions of eudaimonia that are not instrumentally good but intrinsically so. E-g., honor is not needed instrumentally for virtuous action, but is the prize of virtue because it is intrinsically valuable in its own right. So too with good friends and children (Irwin 1985 pp. 95-96). I am not sure that the division between instrumental and necessary

external goods exists in the above passage as Irwin claims. First, we

should note that Aristotle seems to think that he is simply repeating in (e)

(cf. 'As we said...') what he has already said in (a); that happiness needs

these goods as well or in addition, which suggests that both (c) and (d)

are needed in addition as instruments and not simply (c). Thus honor is

instrumental, for it assures us of our virtue as Aristotle has already told

us (1095b23ff)' and a man of great beauty can use his charm to convince

others to do his bidding in the way Alcibiades did. Second, it is quite

possible to imagine someone who is ugly and ill-born who is happy

nevertheless because of his virtue; the example of Socrates comes to mind

as case in point. And so too with the other external goods of (d) like good

children and friends make happiness more lustrous, though it is not

unfeasible to be happy without them. For Aristotle says that the lack of

these makes it likely (and therefore not impossible) that someone will be

happy. But in order for (d) to be necessary for happiness, the lack of (d) should make happiness impossible. Therefore, Aristotle could not mean

the external goods in (d) to be taken as necessary conditions of happiness, but as instrumental ones needed in addition. But are some instrumental goods like wealth and power necessary for virtue? No, as it is quite possible to envision a man who isn't wealthy acting virtuously, for, as

Aristotle tells us in X.8 (1 178b33ff) one doesn't have to rule Land and sea to be virtuous. The X.8 reference is specifically to the life of a philosopher who

Aristotle tells us does not need much more than the bare necessities, which I think is quite consistent with my employment of the example of

Socrates above. But while such external goods may not be necessary for the philosophical life, they seem to be so for the political one. Good birth, good friends, beauty, power, wealth, etc. all can enhance a political career in one way or the other, for without them it would be difficult to envision a successful political career where one does in fact rule Iand and sea.

Thus external goods are more important in some lives than in others which is why Aristotle does not say that they are necessary conditions of happiness, but simply needed in addition.

But Aristotle does suggest that some external goods are necessary in the following passage which occurs a few paragraphs later in 1.9 in his summary of what he thinks happiness is:

(I) The answer to the question we are asking is plain also from the definition; for it has been said to be a certain kind of [virtuous] activity of soul. (2a) Of the remaining goods, some are necessary (2b) and others are naturally co-operative and useful as instruments. (3) And this wiIl be found to agree with what we said at the outset; (4) for we stated the end of political science to be the best end, (5) and poiitical science spends most of its pains on making the citizens to be of a certain character, viz. good and capable of noble acts (1099b25-34). The meaning of (1) depends on whether or not we accept Burnet's insertion of kat' aretEn which is accepted by Ross and Rackham but rejected by the Revised Oxford translation. If we do, then it means that

Aristotle is narrowing down virtuous activity to a single type of virtuous activity, perhaps contemplation. If we don't, then (1) is simply referring to virtuous activities in general as picked out among activities of the soul in general. Since Burnet's insertion doesn't seem to have precedent in any of the manuscripts we possess, and since (1)-(5) seems to be an answer to the question regarding the nature of happiness in general and (4)-(5) seem to assume that practical virtues are included in the discussion in (1)-(3), I agree with the Revised translation in rejecting Burnet's insertion; unless of course (2)-(3) suggest otherwise.

Let us take (2b) first. (2b) does refer to external goods in general which are needed instrumentally by practical virtue, the brief discussion of which, as we saw, Aristotle has just presented at the end of the previous chapter. But what are the necessary conditions that (2a) is talking about? Irwin's suggestion that it might be a reference to honor, good birth, beauty, etc. is problematic as we saw, for these don't seem to be necessary conditions per se and Aristotle's language suggests that he does in fact think of them as instrumental goods. I suggest that (2a) is rather more prosaic than previously thought and refers to the basic necessities of life that are required by all; health, food and perhaps a good upbringing which Aristotle repeatedly telIs us about in X.7&8 (1 177a28-

29; 1178a24-25; 1178b33ff.). For without them life itself is not possible and neither therefore is happiness (cf. Celano 1985 p. 207). More on this in a moment.

The instrumental external goods are of two types: goods of the body

- beauty, good birth and good children - and goods external to the body - friends, political power and riches that we use as instruments - both of which are needed 'in addition' according to ~ristot1e.l' Regardless of how we classify them, the allotment of external goods that each individual receives during his lifetime is a function of fortune. But since external goods are needed in addition for happiness, misfortune and the resultant effect on the external goods can have adverse consequences for an individual's happiness, as in the case of Priam (1.9 1100a4-9). Such a position seems intuitively plausible but there is more to it than meets the eye, as will become clear momentarily.

Solon suggests that we look to the end of one's life to judge if he lived happily or not since misfortune can strike at any point in a life. But this is problematic because if we think that a life is so susceptible to fortune, then we would have to say that he is happy at one time and not at another, depending on his lot, making happiness an insecure phenomer.on

(1 100bl-6). Second, it must also be the case that a descendant's misfortune would have the effect of making a dead man wretched, which makes happiness even more unstable than is normally thought (1 100a10-

30).

But Aristotle wants to reject this over-emphasis on fortune, because for him the happy life is constituted of both practical and contemplative virtues, and is not simply the lackey of luck. The practical virtues (and therefore the activities of secondary happiness) are themselves a result of

l5 This is Cooper's (1985) distinction. For a different version, see Heinaman

1993 p. 35.

6 1 a youth spent in moral habituation and an adulthood concerned with their

maintenance and practice, with the result that they are the most enduring aspects of a good man's life (1 100a14-15; 1100b12-21. More on this in chapter 3).

Yet this does not mean that misfortune has no effect on virtue. One reason is that virtuous activities are sometimes best manifested in adverse circumstances like war. Also, small pieces of good fortune (e.g., finding some money on the street) or misfortune (e.g., minor sickness) do not affect happiness one way or the other (1 10 lag-10). Larger shifts in fortune, on the other hand, can and do affect one's happiness not in and of themselves, but insofar as they affect the activities of happiness. Thus great good fortune, like being in the right place at the right time to turn the tide in a battle with one's courageous actions, enhances virtuous activity and one's happiness in general. But while great good fortune enhances virtuous activity without necessarily being essential for it, great misfortune can impede it, as for instance, being tortured on the rack

(1 l00b22-30; VII. 13 I 15% 19-2 1). This naturally implies that happiness is itself impeded, as is clear in the case of Priam. After Priam lost his family and his kingdom in the war with the Greeks, many of the virtuous activities that were a part of his life up to that point as the head of the household and of state were no longer possible for him.

Of course this does not mean that Priarn was no longer virtuous, for loss of status does not mean loss of goodness since goodness of character is an enduring human feature. Thus though Priam may not act wretchedly

(i.e., immorally) but will act with dignity and forbearance in the face of his misfortune, one couldn't say of his diminished life that it has anything but the vestiges of past blessedness (1 100b30-8). So happiness is insecure, for we can say of Priarn's life that it was happy up to one point and then not after another. But it is not as insecure as Solon thought, for small changes in fortune do not affect it since they don't have a large enough impact on virtuous activity in general. And it is in the category of small changes that the fate of one's descendants falls; for it is of such

'...a degree and kind as not to make happy those who are not happy nor to take away their blessedness from those who are." (1 101b4-5) Finally,

Aristotle also offers the possibility of Priam's happiness being redeemable if he achieves many splendid successes after his misfortune

( 1 10 1a9- 13), such as perhaps the recovery of his kingdom. 16

16 For a sophisticated and more detailed version of a similar view of Priam's predicament, see Irwin 1985 pp. 97-107. For a reading that suggests that Priam, even in his misfortune, is happy but not blessed (ntakariotes), see Joachim 1951 and Celano 1985. The trouble with the latter kind of reading is that it equates blessedness with the activities of both intellectua1 and moral virtue plus a full complement of external goods. For the activities of happiness are themselves not possible without certain kinds of external goods, as we saw, in which case external goods seem to be necessary for happiness and not just for blessedness.

Further, there does not seem to be a distinction between happiness and I have suggested towards the beginning of this section that external

goods are necessary for the political life, whereas the philosophical life

needs little in addition to the bare necessities." But this also means that

the political life is more dependent on the whims of fortune, and it is

clear that it is this kind of life that Aristotle is discussing when he talks

about Priam in 1.10. In contrast, the philosopher's life will be more self-

sufficient and less prone to misfortune, and not simply because it includes

contemplation. For it is because the philosopher's life, though virtuous,

requires a minimal amount of external goods thereby making it less

blessedness that such readings presuppose, for AristotIe seems to use these

terms interchangeably (e-g., IX 1169b3-10, 16-19, 22)- The one place that

suggests such a distinction is 1.10 1 10 1a5-8, where Aristotle says of

unfortunate men like Priam that in such cases, "...the happy man can never

become miserable - though he will not reach blessedness, if he meet with

fortunes like those of Priarn." I have taken this above to mean that the at-one-

time-happy man like Priam does not become wretched; i.e., he does not act in a

vicious manner, though he is no longer happy or blessed. Aristotle simply uses

'blessedness' in the second instance instead of 'happy' because of grammatical expediency rather than because he thinks they mean two different things, an equation which we saw is repeated in Book IX.

17 Celano (1985 pp. 207-208) and Kraut (1989 pp.21-27) agree that different

lives have different requirements of external goods but do not make (nor, would they agree with) the distinction between the political-cum-contemplative and the philosophical-cum-contemplative lives that 1 make in what foIlows.

64 vulnerable to the whims of fortune than a politician's, that he amongst

men will be the most self-sufficient (X.7 1177a27-bl).

But suppose now that Priam is to recover the goods that were his

before the fall of Troy. Would we say that in recovering these goods and

in the resumption of his kingly virtues, Priam has recovered only a

secondary form of happiness that is available to the life of practical

virtue, as X.8 (1 178a9ff) suggests? I think not for several reasons: First,

it is clear that Aristotle thinks in 1-10 that a political life in which the

virtues as well as sufficient external goods are present without major

shifts in fortune is blessed and happy in the highest sense of the word

(I 101a14-21). Second, Aristotle does not restrict his discussion of virtue to practical virtue in 1.10 in the case of people like Priam, for a similar narrowing that we have seen at the end of the function argument in 1.7 and twice in 1.8 occurs here again. He says, as we have already seen, that the virtues in general are the most durable '...and of these themselves the most valuable are more durable because those who are blessed spend their life most readily and most continuously in these ..." (1 100b12-16). Such talk of continuity is repeated again in reference to contemplation in X.7

(1 177a2lff). In case we are not convinced that this is a reference to contemplation, two lines later he says regarding the virtues that they 'will belong to the happy man, and he will be happy throughout his life; for always, or by preference to everything else, he will do and contemplate what is excellent ..." (1 lOOb 18-20; my emphasis). Third, this reading is not inconsistent with Book X. For there

Aristotle tells us exactly the same thing. He has already made the point

that the activity of contemplative virtue is more self-sufficient than

practical activity on the basis of their respective need for external goods

in X.7 (1 177a28ff), as we saw in 2.3. But X.8 (1 178a26ff) tells us the

political life will require more external goods than the philosopher's for

'...the statesman's work is concerned with the body and things of that

sort.' Nor must this be taken to mean that the political life is exclusively

committed to the practical virtues, for while it is :rue that "...the actions

of the statesman are unleisurely, and aim - beyond the political action

itself - at despotic power and honors, or at all events happiness, for him

and his fellow citizens - a happiness different from political actions and

evidently sought as being different." (1 l77b 13- 15; my emphasis.)

Aristotle's suggestion in Book X is therefore that the politician too

has access to the activity of primary happiness, an activity distinct from

the activities of practical virtue and sought as different. This of course

makes sense from the point of view of the suggestion in I.1&2 that the

politician is the architect of the happiness of the state and it follows that he must know and have experienced the final good (i.e., contemplation) in order to have true knowledge of it in order to construct the hierarchy of activities of the state. How exactly the politician comes to be a contemplator is something that Aristotle does not fully explain in the NE, and for this we will have to rely on the EE's explanation in chapter 3. That there is indeed this distinction between the political life and the philosophical life that I am suggesting even in Book X is clear from the following passage in X.8 regarding the contemplator:

(1) But being a man, one will also need external prosperity; (2) for our nature is not self-sufficient for the purpose of contemplation. but our body also must be healthy and must have food and other attention. (3) Still, we must not think that the man who is to be happy will need many things or great things, merely because he cannot be supremely happy without external goods; (4) for self- sufficiency and action do not involve excess, and we can do noble acts without ruling e;uth and sea; (5) for even with moderate advantages one can act virtuously (this is manifest enough; for private persons are thought to do worthy acts no less than despots (indeed even more); (5) and it is enough that we should have so much as that; for the life of the man who is active in accordance with virtue will be happy. (1 178b334179a9) I have already suggested in the previous section that the reference to the person who does not rule land and sea in (4) is to the philosopher more concerned with the theoretical life than to the politician who is concerned with the affairs of state. This is further corroborated in (5) when Aristotle calls such an individual 'a private person' in specific contrast to the political life of the tyrant. And there are numerous other references in X.7&8 to such a philosophical life (X.7 1177a23-27; X.8

1178b2-7; 1 179al2-16). But this of course should not mean that only the philosopher can be a contemplator, for we saw that Aristotle thinks that the politician does indulge in the primary activity of happiness. an activity different from political activity and sought as such. But is it possible that the politician is the same as the philosopher (cf. Stewart

1892 pp. 443-44)? 1 don't think so, for Aristotle's references in the NE to the political lives that are held in the high esteem are to those of Priam in I.9&10, Hector in VII.1 (1 145a20-27)18 and to Pericles in VI.5 (1 140b7ff),

none of whom would qualify as candidates for the philosophical-and-

contemplative life. The only reasonable alternative is that the political

life is different from the philosophical life and that both of them

culminate in contemplation in ways that I will show in chapters 3 and 5.

Nor does this mean that the philosophical life is not practically

virtuous, for we have seen that moral action does not require that we rule

land and sea. While this suggests that a philosopher can act virtuously,

does it mean that he necessarily does? For one can easily imagine a life

spent in the pursuit of theoretical wisdom with complete disregard for its practical counterpart. At least two responses from what we have already seen are possible: that a completely happy life requires the presence of both practical and contemplative virtue, and that insofar as man is a political animal and lives with others, he chooses to act virtuously (X.8

1178b5-6). But some (e-g., Ackrill 1980 p.32) are still not satisfied with these answers. For if true happiness extends as far as contemplation extends (1 198b30-32)' then wouldn't we always be better off minimizing or even eliminating the secondary activities of happiness and maximizing

18 The reference to Hector is interesting because it says that Hector is heroic and divine aid that his state is higher than (practical) excellence. The reference to divinity suggests that this higher state must be a function of divine activity; i-e., contemplation. thecria? I cannot do justice to such questions here but attempt to answer this and other similar questions in chapter 4.

A similar point is made regarding friendship in Books VIII and IX; we need friends whether we are philosophers or politicians, and although the philosopher needs them as fellow workers in a field, he can even do without then, as Aristotle points out in X.7 (1 17734ff). But the practically virtuous man requires friends to interact with, for unlike the philosopher, his training essentially consists in practical activity that requires people to interact with and be virtuous to (1178a25ff). This is not to say that the philosopher does not need friends because he does insofar as he lives in a community; nevertheless it seems quite clear for Aristotle that friendship is far more important to the practical life than it is for the philosophical.

It may also be asked: if practical virtue by itself can lead to theeia, why bother with philosophy? Besides the fact that these were traditional choices for the upper classes, to ask this is to ask why people are inclined to one profession as opposed to another. Such matters depend on one's natural inclinations and abilities as well as on one's environment.

Is there a qualitative difference between the philosophical and political lives in terms of practical virtue? If so, how much virtue does a phiiosophical contemplator need? I suggest that he needs to be fully virtuous. The only difference between him and the practically virtuous man is quantitative rather than qualitative. For while the former lives his everyday life virtuously, he does not do so to the extent that the man of affairs does since he is more concerned with philosophical matters and doesn't get to practice the practical virtues in a political.context, or at least, not as much as the politician.lg Also, given the difference in their requirement of external goods, one can differentiate between the two lives by differentiating between the virtues of magnificence and generosity.

The two are essentially the same virtue except that the former is a grander manifestation of the latter in keeping with the different levels of external goods of the respective lives. As for exact demarcation, as Aristotle

19 Cf. Kenny 1991 pp. 77-78 who makes a similar suggestion in terms of the mean being relative to the individual. Thus ail good men must be fully virtuous though how much of which virtue is exercised depends on one's circumstances.

Kenny though would probably not agree with my distinction between the two types of contemplators.

" Readings like Cooper's (1985) and Nussbaum's (1986 chapter 11) differ from mine in suggesting that external goods besides the bare necessities are necessary conditions for all happy lives and not simply political ones. But such readings are problematic because they are incompatible with Aristotle's statements regarding the philosophical life requiring nothing more than the bare necessities in X and the resulting counter-examples. Thus Cooper says that the lack of beauty may reduce the opportunities for sex and hence of the exercise of restraint and temperance (pp. 180-183). One can also see how beauty and charisma can be important in a political career for the persuasion of one's fellow citizens. But again, one has only to take the example of Socrates to see

70 says, some things are best explained in outline for further exactness in

such matters is not possible (1.3 1094b12-27).

Another possible objection is that if the political life does in fact culminate in the6ria, and since most people live the practical/political life

rather than the philosophical, must it not be the case that contemplation must be a far more common phenomenon than is normally thought? In response, one may say that while many people live the political life, most of them do so for the wrong reasons, as Aristotle has already pointed out: for honor, gain and wealth (cf. the notion of civic virtue in EE VII-IS), and not for virtue for its own sake. Because virtue itself is rare and precious (11.8 L L09a20-29) the6ria and hence happiness too is uncommon.

In addition, the demands of virtue in the face of misfortune, as in the case of Priam and Hector, can make contemplation and hence complete happiness impossibIe and therefore an even scarcer phenomenon.

that these kinds of external goods are not necessary for a philosophical life. For the philosophical life is not concerned with the arena of politics and therefore does not require many external goods in addition to the necessities of life; neither wealth or even friends (X.7 1 I77a29ff). Nor must it be the case that the lack of beauty, for instance, means that there is lack of opportunity to exercise temperance. We only have to remember Alcibiades' affection for Socrates in the Symposium to see that physically unattractive men like Socrates can and do have opportunities to exercise temperance. I have been using the language of 'culmination' in reference to the

practical life and/or the practical-cum-philosophical life and their relation

to thecria, which suggests that they are related by some sort of natural

necessity. Animals develop naturally towards their respective ends,

whereas human ends of which practical human excellence is a part,

Aristotle tells us, arise neither by nature nor contrary to it. Instead, we

have the nature to adapt them, and such excellence is made perfect by

habit (11. 1 1 103a24ff). But once we have acquired the practical virtues,

then there is something almost unconscious about attaining the final

human end of contemplation in the way in which sight comes about when

all the sub-ocular processes are functioning properly. More on this in

chapter 3.

I have suggested that there are two types of contemplators: one who

actively pursues knowledge and wisdom in the philosophical life. The

place of practical virtue in the life of the philosopher and his ascent to the

activity of thecria are discussed in greater detail in chapters 4, 5 and 6.

But in the following chapter, I want to consider how the second type, i.e., the political life culminates in the activity of the6ria. Chapter 3

The Thecria -Praxis Relation in Aristotle's Ethics.

It has often been automatically assumed that only a philosopher can

be a contemplator for Aristotle, an assumption that I think unduly narrows

Aristotle's conception of the good life. We have seen in the previous chapter that Aristotle explicitly states that the poIitical life also culminates in thecria though how this happens is not obvious. So the main task of this chapter is to show how the practically virtuous man can be a contemplator without being a philosopher. Aristotle discusses the6ria in the NE in the context of philosophy (X.6-X.8) even though there are clear indications, in this and prior parts of the text that contemplation is not restricted to philosophers. I will therefore turn to the EE as it supplements

Aristotle's discussion in a way that shows how the practically virtuous life is perfected by thecria.

The argument takes the following course: The practically virtuous man acts for the sake of the noble, or for the sake of the action itself and not for extrinsic reasons. Since the noble is the end of all action, ends are never deliberated upon, though what constitutes the noble in different situations differs and is therefore subject to deliberation to this extent.

General ends of action, I show, are revisable only in the long run, which further emphasizes the fact that they are not subject to deliberation. To

act for the sake of the noble is to act virtuously and therefore, as the

function argument tells us, to be functioning well. Just as sight results when the sub-ocular processes are functioning well, theoria results when a person lives a virtuous life. But this does not mean that we act virtuously to attain thecria, for this would mean that we act virtuously for extraneous reasons. Rather, we act virtuously for its own sake and this results in the6ria. Finally, the mechanics by which the practical man attains thecria are explained. Contemplation arises when our animal nature is at rest, this being brought about by virtuous activity. It is a natural process because it is the activity of the divine element within us, which, as we shall see, is divine because it is intimately connected with

God. 1. The Noble and Virtuous Action

It is important for us to understand Aristotle's conception of moral

action before we can understand the main concerns of this chapter, i-e.,

the relation between practical and contemplative virtue. We can begin our

investigation regarding the nature of moral action by asking the following

three questions: How are actims undertaken for their own sake related to

actions undertaken for the sake of the noble? How are reason and emotions (or feelings) related in virtuous action? And finally, a question that is closely related to the second, how are emotions and actions connected to each other?

Aristotle makes two repeated claims regarding choice and virtuous action: (a) in order for an act to be truly virtuous and not just an imitation of a virtuous action, we must choose the act and choose it for its own sake

(11.4 1105a3 1-32). (b) Ail virtuous action is done for the sake of the nobie.' To understand the relation between these two statements, we must first see what each claim means individually.

I This is stated expiicitIy in EE 111.1 1230a26-29: "But since all excellence implies choice - we have said before what this means and that it makes a man choose everything for the sake of some end, and the end is the noble ..." Such an explicit statement is also made at NE IV.1 1120a23 and besides this, Aristotle does say in the context of his discussion of most of the individual virtues that each of them is done for the sake of the noble (for courage see 1115b20-24, for

75 What does it mean to choose an act for its own sake? To say I love a painting for its own sake is to say that I love its essential character: its form, its structure, its balance of colour, and the general depth of meaning that it conveys to me (cf. Rogers 1994 pp. 292-3). To love it extraneously means to love its incidental character: loving it because others envy the fact that I own it, or because it is extremely valuable. So too with doing virtuous action for its own sake, which means doing the action precisely because it is virtuous and not for extraneous reasons (cf. Gauthier 1967 pp. 17-18). Thus a truthful man tells the truth because he knows the truth and because the act of telling the truth is intrinsically worthy of being chosen, even when nothing is at stake and more so when in fact something is at stake (IV.7 1127b4-7). Likewise with the courageous man who acts courageously not because of the possible honour and glory that he might gain from it, which according to Aristotle, are extrinsic reasons for acting virtuously (111.8 1116a17-21), but because he knows the nature of courage and realises that it requires certain actions in certain situations.' Thus the same action is virtuous or not virtuous depending on the reasons for which it is performed, as opposed to the arts, where what distinguishes good art

temperance 1 119a18 and 11 19b14-16, for liberality 1 120al3-14, for ambition

1125blI-13, etc.).

' See also VIII.3 where Aristotle makes a parallel distinction between loving a friend for his own sake as opposed to loving him for reasons of pleasure or utiIity. from bad is not the motivation, but the end product itself (11.4 1105a26-

30). Yet even this much is not enough, for Aristotle thinks that you are

not virtuous if you choose to do the right thing for the right reason in

some circumstances, but only if you have a stable character which is

inclined to choose the right thing for the right reason under every

circumstance (11.4 1105a35-b 1). 3

The first hint of what acting for the sake of the noble might mean

comes in 11.3, where Aristotle says that there are three objects of choice:

the noble, the advantageous and the pleasant, and that the good man tends

to do right by these and the bad man wrong. What could this mean?

Aristotle has said that to act virtuously is to act for the sake of the noble;

so very clearly he is telling us here that to act for the sake of the noble is

distinct from acting for the sake of the advantageous and the pleasant, even though noble actions can turn out to be advantageous and pleasant.

But noble actions are not always advantageous and pleasant, for instance, when the courageous man makes a stand and loses his life, which is neither advantageous nor pleasant yet he performs such acts because it is

Also, it is difficult for an external observer to know if an action is truly virtuous, since the motivations for one's actions are not always obvious.

Perhaps if we know the person and know that he has consistently tended to act well in the past, we can make a judgement about the action. This is perhaps how Aristotle can say that the good man is the standard of right action (111.4

1 113a23). noble to do so (111.9 11 17b6-15). Nor is it for the sake of honours, though

honour is a noble object (111.8 1 116a16-30), as in the case of the man with civic virtue (EE VII. 15 1248b36-1249a1) but not the noble (1 116b2-3) and therefore not the end of virtuous action. Similarly, it is not noble to act courageously because one is afraid of being dishonoured (111.8

11 16a18-20), though it is a sign of nobility to fear disgrace (111.6

11 15a10-14) and yet not the reason why a noble man will act virtuously.

The point then seems to be that to act nobly is to act not from extraneous or incidental reasons of gain, whether it be in the form of pleasure or honour, but because it is the right thing to doS4Indeed, one commentator has gone so far as to suggest 'rightT as the translation for 'kalon.15 Now, as we saw previously, since virtuous action is for its own sake where it is motivated by intrinsic and not extrinsic reasons, it would be reasonable

--

4 I will not deny Sorabji's (1980, pp.202-203) point that courageous action can be a means to saving a friend's life, for instance, but I don't think this means that the action is not undertaken for its own sake if it is done without desire for honor, fame or gratitude (cf. Mele 1981 pp. 409-1 I; Broadie 1991 pp. 92-3).

My point is that the motive for acting is simply that such action is right.

5 See Owens 1981. The problem is that 'right' is the obvious translation of

'orth6s,' and since 'kalon' and 'orth6s' often occur in the same context but on different sides of an equation (where a kalon action is one that is done at the orthoS place, for orthoS reasons, etc.), 'right' as translation of both is not iIluminating (for e.g., IV.l 1120a23-26). to say that virtuous activity undertaken for its own sake is no different from activity undertaken for the sake of the noble.6 Hence the noble is

6 Cf. Mele 1981 p. 412 for a simiIar equation based on somewhat different considerations. Kenny 1992 p. 1 Iff thinks that to act for the sake of the noble is not the same as acting for the sake of the action itself. While the noble-and- good man of the EE acts for the sake of the action itself as well for the sake of the noble, the good man or the man of civic virtue acts for the sake of the action itself but not for the sake of the noble, since for him virtue is for the sake of the external goods. It may seem inconsistent for the good man of the EE can be acting for the sake of the acts themselves and at the same time be acting for the sake of the natural goods, but Kenny doesn't think so. For him, "The

Laconian [i-e., the man of simple goodness], like any other virtuous man, performs virtuous actions for their own sake, because they are the acts that virtue requires; where he differs from the noble person is in the answer he gives to the second-order question 'What is the point of being virtuous?' The kalos kagathos gives the answer "Because virtue is splendid, fine, and noble'; the Laconian gives the answer 'Because virtue pays'." (p. 12). I am not sure that Kenny really gets around the problem, for while it is reasonable to say that the noble man acts for the sake of virtue itself and this is in fact what it means to act nobly, it's hard to see how an individual can say that he is acting for the sake of the action itself and then say that the point of being virtuous is that it pays to be such a person, for then the person could not really be said to be acting for the sake of virtue itself, but for external considerations. said ta be a function of rational wish and constitutes the end of all action

(111.4 11 13a15ff).

Next, I want to consider the relation of passion and reason as part

of the explication of Aristotle's conception of moral action. It must be the

case that good habituation involves the use of reason, but what role reason

plays is not clear immediately and is only gradually revealed. Aristotle

says virtue involves choice and hence reason, and this is made explicit in

11.6 where he says that "[eJxcellence, then, is a state concerned with choice, lying in a mean relative to us, this being determined by reason and

in the way in which the man of practical wisdom would determine it."

Much of this is a promissory note, for the discussions of choice and practical wisdom are yet to come.

As Aristotle tells us in his discussion of courage, it is not enough for an act to be considered virtuous if one were to act from passion - e-g., when a cornered man turns and fights as well as a brave man would, though such actions based on passions are most natural, and are courageous if choice and aim are added (111.8 1117a2-4). But how choice and aim are added or related to passion is a question we must consider next.

At first (11.1, 2) Aristotle simply tells us that virtuous behaviour produces virtuous dispositions. But since these actions are under the tutelage of a teacher, they are not completely my actions until I. do them on my own with my own reason and for their own sake, rather than because my teacher wants me to, or because of honour, gain, etc., conditions that are not presented till later. Thus it is difficult to distinguish actions that produce the virtuous disposition from actions that result from it as, at least overtly, they are the same (11.3 1104a27-b3). But once the pre-conditions are presented in 11.4 to distinguish actions done by imitation or under instruction from actions that are truly virtuous, not only can we understand the distinction between actions performed by a student as opposed to a practitioner of virtue, but also the importance of choice and hence reason in such activity. For one cannot choose without having deliberated and one cannot deliberate without using reason. Thus it becomes clear that though habituation initially involves imitation of actions, it is not a blind imitation, but gradually involves the use of reason, not only for determining right action, but also for determining what type of ethical situation and response is required (cf. Sorabji 1980, pp. 214-217). After all, if habituation were simply the Mind repetition of action, it would hardly be able to mould individuals to handle the diversity and complexity of our moral life?

7 Cf. Hardie's contrast between being habituated to brush one's teeth and being trained to become a good tennis player which requires an understanding and application of the rules and techniques of the game to mould one's natural response and talent (Hardie 1980 pp. 104-5). Perhaps snooker is a better model as tennis is too instinctive and not deliberative enough, whereas snooker is more balanced since it involves both deliberation (in determining what shots to Now even though the third condition of virtue, knowledge, - the other two are choosing the virtuous action for its own sake, and doing so from a firm and unchanging character - is given relatively little importance in the pre-conditions of virtuous action (111.4 1105b2ff),

Aristotle does not mean that reason isn't involved, since choice and hence deliberation is the second pre-condition of virtue. This is why he says

(11.9 1109a20-26) that to find the mean and hence be good is no easy task.

'For in everything it is no easy task to find the middle, e.g., to find the middle of a circle is not for everyone but for him who knows ...' What is meant in 111.4 1105b2ff is that reason in the sense of justifying one's action as virtuous in the context of an ethical theory is neither necessary nor significant in the actual doing of just action (Burnyeat 1980, pp. 71-

74) .8

play first) and the instinctive response required to successfully compete the stroke.

Burnyeat does think that we cannot be fully virtuous unless we do have a firm understanding of the theoretical context (1980 pp. 84-88), but Aristotle's downplaying of knowledge in 111.5 suggests otherwise. (cf. Cooper 1975, p. 71, who agrees). Hence I disagree with Burnyeat that the Ethics are meant to make his students good. For I think Aristotle holds that one can be good without having theoretical knowledge of why the action is good. Rather, the Ethics is meant for the student who is to be a politician and therefore to set up an Finally, regarding the third question set out at the beginning of this

section, it is clear that all the virtues are concerned with both actions and

passions. Even when Aristotle specifically talks of the virtues related to

the passions - e.g., temperance - where it is obvious the discussion has to

do with the feelings of pleasure, it is clear that these feelings are also

connected with actions which are temperate. So too with generosity,

which is talked about in terms of the acts of giving, which must have a

related state of feeling associated with that giving. But how are feelings

and actions associated?

Aristotle tells us that the virtues, which are mean states, are not just

the ability to feel the passions, but dispositions to feel in a certain way

(11.5 1106a3-6). Now it has been argued that it is because we feel in a certain way that we act in certain ways, the range of actions being determined by our feelings (see Kosman 1980 pp. 109-12; see also

Leighton 1986 p. 146). Thus if we are extremely angry then we are prone to lash out or seek revenge. Yet if virtue is the disposition to feel in a certain way, then how does one become virtuous? Kosman suggests that not only are actions determined by feelings, but that feelings too are determined by actions, though only in the long run. Hence good habituation makes us act in certain ways, e.g., to stand and fight in battle

explicit theoretical framework necessary to legislate good laws, in a way that I hope will become clear in the remaining part of the chapter. and not run away, and this in turn shapes the amount of fear and

confidence we feel in such situations, not immediately, but over time.

This aiso makes clear that one can act against what one feels

(although to what extent this is possible will only become clear in the

section on freedom and responsibility). For initially children act contrary

to their inclinations under a teacher, as, without such help, humans are

naturally prone to be led by pleasure (11.8 1 198a15). If it is possible for

children to change their feelings, then we can see how it is possible for an

adult to do the same, as will become clear in our discussion of acquiring

and changing ethical ends. It could be objected that Aristotle says very

explicitly that in a virtuous person, desire must do what reason says VI.2

( 1 139a2 1-24), so how can we say that desire determines the end? Because

this desire (which, as we shall see, is wish or boulEsis) is habituated by a

rational teacher to want rational ends, and it is in this sense that desire is

determined by reason. Now because reason or deliberation, on such a

reading, generally determines whether or nor a particular situation

requires an ethical response, as well as how much of a response is

required, whereas desire determines the general direction of the response, reason seems to be reduced to being a servant of desire. But because this desire itself is a product of rational habituation, as we have seen above,

the accusation is misconstrued. Desire thus preserves what is provided by reason, as Sorabji correctly points out (1980, p. 212. See also Irwin 1978, p. 262 and Broadie 1991 p. 217). 2. Ends and Means

In the first chapter of the Nicornachean Ethics, Aristotle tells us that the ends of different actions, arts and sciences fall in a hierarchy.

Thus the art of bridle-making falls under the art of riding, which in turn is subordinated to strategy ( 1O94a6- 14). Strategy, along with economics, rhetoric and all the other arts and sciences, are subject to the art of statesmanship which determines what is to be done and when in terms of its own end - the good for man (1094a27-b7). Insofar as the statesman and general determine how much of what subordinate end is to be undertaken in their respective areas of concern, they deliberate about these subordinate ends. For instance, the general may deliberate on how many bridles the bridlemaker should produce to fulfil the needs of the army, and to this extent, deliberate on the bridlemaker's end. In the same way, while the general qua general does not deliberate on whether he should strategize, nor the doctor qua doctor on if he should cure, they may deliberate on such ends insofar as they are human beings in general.

Thus, a doctor may deliberate on whether or not he should cure an infectious patient at the risk of being infected himself.

Now, as I shall argue in this section, virtue can never be deliberated on in the light of any other end (thecjria for instance), unlike Irwin (1978, pp. 253, 257) and Sorabji (1980, p. 204) who think that when Aristotle

85 says we don't deliberate about ends, he means we don't deliberate about ends now, which doesn't preclude them from being deliberated about in the past. I think Irwin and Sorabji are right in many cases, as we see in the examples of the statesman and the general above. But this does not mean that the end of virtue can similarly deliberated on, for virtue, at least in the case of the good man, is the primary end of all a~tion.~I base my position on Aristotle's claim that the noble (to kalon), which is the end of all virtue, is a product of wish and therefore not subject to deliberation, and show how the kalon, as the end of ail virtuous actions, comes into play in particular moral situations. Of course, as we will see, we do deliberate about proximate ends of action, as has been argued in the literature (e.g., Irwin 1978 and Kolnai 1961), but in a far more limited sense than has been thought. We do not deliberate at all on our final end of happiness or contemplation, as we shall see in later sections, for

9 This does not mean I think that practical virtue is the primary end of humans and that therefore its activity constitutes human happiness as the inclusivists do. Rather, I think for Aristotle it is contemplation that is the final good for humans but not in a way that it determines how and when we are to act virtuously. In fact 1 think virtue always takes priority, whether you are a philosopher, a statesman, or a doctor, though for some (e.g., the statesman) virtuous and professional ends are more closely related than for others (e-g., a doctor). More on this in the next section. contemplation is the natural culmination of virtuous activity, just as youth naturally results in manhood.

I begin with an example to help the argument. Practical wisdom and its attendant qualities of understanding, judgement, etc., first determine whether or not a situation is such that it warrants an ethical response.

Thus in order to help a friend in need, we must first be able to understand that he is in genuine need on the basis of which we can then act. Now the action itself is determined by our end which is our immediate emotional response to (or wish in the context of) such a situation,1° which in the case of a good man, is to do the right or noble thing (VI. 12 1144a6- 11) and consists, in our example, of wanting to help our friend. To the extent that practical wisdom is responsible for determining that this is an ethical

10 That virtue is such a response is cIear from Aristotle's treatment of natural and full virtue in VI.13. Here he says that the man who is only naturally virtuous will be like the man of full virtue expect that he lacks reason which

'makes a difference in action' and is prone to stumble like a blind man. And as pointed out earlier, in 111.8 Aristotle makes a similar distinction and says that

"[tlhe courage that is due to passion seems to be the most natural, and to be courage if choice and aim be added." (1 117a4-5) Also see EE 11.2 1220b18-20 where he says that "[sltates of character are the states that cause the emotions to be present either rationally or the opposite: for example courage, sobriety of mind, cowardice, profligacy." (Rackham trans.) Finally. see Nussbaum 1986 p.

308 and Broadie 1991 p. 77. situation, 11 and conceptualises the end provided by virtue (VI.9 1142b32-

33," Aristotle thinks one cannot be truly good without practical wisdom

(VI. 13 1 144b30-32). But practical wisdom, insofar as it includes

deliberation, is also involved in determining what the right action would

be (VI.12 1144a7-10). In our example, such an act would be giving money

to the friend in need without expectation of recompense, gratitude,

I I Thus in VI.8 (1 142a21-23), Aristotle says, "...error in deliberation may be

either about the universal or about the particular; we may fail to know either

that water that weighs heavy is bad, or that this particular water weighs heavy."

The fact that practical wisdom is involved in determining whether the perceived

object, water, is heavy or not makes clear just how much reason is involved in

the way we see things which in turn determines how we react to the situation

(cf. Cooper 1975 pp. 53-4; Cooper 1995 p. 236 and Sherman 1989 p. 40).

'' Thus I think Allen (1971 pp. 74-5), following Loening, is right in saying that

desire must have an object which is good, this good itself being conceived by

practical wisdom and promoted by desire. Hence desire without reason is blind and reason without desire is powerless. But insofar as this conceiving is determined by the already present desire, it is not detiberative (contra Irwin

1978, p. 256-7), for deliberation results in choice, whereas there is no choice as such involved in the conceptualisation of desire by practical wisdom. It is in this sense of conceptualised desire that wishing has a rational component, and not because, as Irwin thinks, the notion of a wish includes that of deIiberation.

Hence it is the combination of desire and reason that gives us the idea of a rational wish (boulEsis) which is for the end. recognition, or in other words, where rhe motivation is the intrinsic nature

of the virtuous act itself, and not the possible rewards of the action. But if

after looking at all the ways of getting money (our own cash reserves,

liquidation of assets, etc.) we find that we cannot come up with the money except perhaps by not repaying a loan, we are forced to abandon the possibility of helping our friend financially, because we realise that such

help, if granted, would no longer be noble (111.3 11 12b12-30. Also VI.9

1142b22-25 where Aristotle says that it is not noble to attain a good end by false or bad means). Yet this does not mean that we abandon the end

(as Broadie 1991 pp. 198-9 thinks) since the noble is a general end of all virtuous action and is fulfilled in other ways, for instance, when we repay the loan. 13

Now if the act of repaying the loan is done for its own sake and is therefore noble and virtuous (VI.2 1139b3-4), how is it a means to an end

(ta pros to telos)? Because, as has been noted in the literature, by

'means' Aristotle does not mean an exclusive means (as driving is a means to getting to Toronto), but, rather, a constitutive means such as putting is a means to, as well as a part of, golfing (cf. Cooper 1975 p. 19;

Sorabji 1980 p. 202; Wiggins 1980, pp. 224-5; Nussbaum 1986 p. 297;

l3 This example is based on a more elaborate version of Aristotle's example as presented in IX.2 1 164b25ff.. Woods 1986 pp. 160-1; Sherman 1989 p. 71 and Ackrill 1980). 14 Hence, a noble act can be a means to a noble end because it is constitutive of it.

I4 Note that even though I think that a noble action is constitutive of a noble end, I don't agree with Cooper and the others that virtuous activity is constitutive of happiness in the same way. Cooper (p. 16) cites 1097b2 as evidence that virtue, pleasure, reason and honor are chosen not only for themselves, 'but also for the sake of happiness, in the belief that they will be a means (hupolambanontes) to our securing it.' But Aristotle clearly does not use the language of constitutive means (ta pros) here but that of undertaking

(hupolanmbano) and therefore we cannot assume that he thinks that virtue, pleasure, honor, etc. constitute the end of happiness as Cooper does (pp. 8 1-

82).

Yet this does not solve all our problems for Aristotle says specifically in

V1.9 (1 142b28-32) that "...it is possible to have deliberated well either in the unqualified sense or with reference to a particular end (pros ti telos).

Excellence in deliberation in the unqualified sense, then, that which succeeds with reference to what is the end in the unqualified sense (he pros to telos), and excellence in deliberation in a particular sense is that which succeeds relatively to a particular end." Here, AristotIe seems to say that deliberation is constitutive of the grand end, or the end in the unqualified sense, which supports the inclusive reading. But I think Aristotle's point is merely that deliberation in general is constitutive of the general end of action, i.e., the noble, (and not of the grand end of happiness or the6ria) insofar as deliberation is constitutive of the noble in particular situations, as pointed out 2arlier. But then isn't the end something we deliberate about if it turns out that ta pros are constitutive of the end (Irwin 1978, p. 257)? Not insofar as we think of it as the general end of action conceived as noble, though what constitutes the noble in different situations obviously is subject to deliberation (IX.2 1164bl-30). This is why Aristotle sees no contradiction in saying in the same passage that '[tlhe origin of action - its efficient not its final cause - is choice, and that of choice is desire and reasoning with a view to an end." (VI.2 1139a32-33 emphasis added), and also that

'...good action is an end, and desire aims at this.' (VI.2 1 139b4. Cf. also

EE VII. 15 11248b35 and 1 l249b 16-23 for a similar juxtaposition.) So the noble is, in this sense, the common denominator of all virtuous action in that it is never deliberated about (and as Smith 1996, p. 73, says, if it were, then it would no longer be noble) and consists of different virtues being done for their own sake. This is how it is possible for the noble to be the end of every virtue?

!5 Irwin (1978, pp. 253, 257) and Sorabji (1980, p. 204) think that when

Aristotle says we don't deliberate about ends, he means we don't deliberate about ends now, which doesn't preclude them from being deliberated about in the past. But in EE 2.1 1 1227b23ff "Does then excellence make the aim

(skopos), or the things that contribute to that aim? We say the aim, because this is not attained by inference (sullogismos) or reasoning (logos). Let us assume this as [a] starting point." The fact that Aristotle makes a categorical denial that reasoning has anything to do with the end makes clear that the end could Another aspect of the same problem is that even if we don't deliberate about the end, we often think that if we have to deliberate about the right thing to do in a particular situation, then we are no longer good but continent. I think this is true only after we have determined what is the right thing to do. Thus once we know that the right thing to do is to repay our debt, then to be tempted by other ways of spending the money

(e.g., going on a holiday) makes it clear that we are not virtuous but continent, if we do ultimately repay the money, but incontinent if we don't. This is why Aristotle says the virtuous man does the right thing with pleasure (11.3 1104b4-9) by which he means that he does the right thing gladly (cf. Broadie 1991 p. 91) or, more appropriately, that even if the repayment results in some hardship, he would be even more pained if he did not return the money (cf. 11 17a34, 11 Ub16-17).16

Yet there are many virtuous acts that are pleasurable; the acts of magnificence and ready wit for instance. But to say, as 11.3 does, that we

not have been deliberated about at any time, though, as we have seen above, it is the product of rational habituation. Hence, as 1127b33-36 tells us, "[ilf, then, of all correctness either reason or excellence is the cause, if reason is not the cause, then the end (but not the things contributing to it) must owe its rightness to excellence (arete)."

16 So far then we have explained how actions are constitutive of proximate ends and therefore means to them, whereas in the section on function we wilI see how actions are means to the final end of contemplation. are virtuous only if we take pleasure in virtuous acts does not mean that

we do these acts because they are pleasant, as Woods suggests. For he

thinks that what appears pleasant to the good man is always right action

whereas for the continent and incontinent, both good and bad action

appear pleasant, the difference being that for the former, right action

appears to be more pleasant than bad action, whereas for the latter it is

the other way around (Woods L986 pp. 149-52). I think this suggestion

makes it seem that no matter whether we are virtuous or vicious, continent or incontinent, we are led primarily by pleasure. But this is hardly

Aristotle's position, for what motivates action is extremely important to him. To say that I choose to act courageously for its own sake or for the sake of the noble is quite different from saying that I do so because I find such action pleasant, even though pleasure does arise from such action. In fact Aristotle tells us that we should pay no attention to pleasure in deciding what to do since it distracts judgement and makes us less likely to hit the mean (1 109b7ff), and more importantly, that a virtuous person would act virtuously even if no pleasure resulted from such actions (X.4

1174a7ff; cf. also 1109a15 and L 113a28)."

------

17 There are some problems here. If according to book VII's definition, pleasure is the uninterrupted activity of virtue, then Woods' position sounds like the right one. This also makes sense since both virtuous activity and pleasure are energeiai and are complete in themselves. But Aristotle seems to change his definition in Book X where he says pIeasure completes rather than is One can now also begin to see why Aristotle thinks the virtues are

united (VI. 13 L l44b32-1 145a2). Normally, one would think that because magnificence has little to do with temperance, except that both require practical wisdom to complete them, it is possible for one to exist without the other. But I would like to stress again the fact that the end of virtue is the noble and therefore general to this extent. In order to understand what it means to do the right thing in the case of one virtue requires us to

the activity for two reasons: First precisely, I think, because he doesn't want to say that we act for the sake of pleasure and would act virtuously even if pleasure did not result from such actions (X.3 1174a4ff). Second, because, as he points out (following Plato Timaeus 65B) in X.3 (I 173b7ff), replenishment itself is not pleasure even though we are pIeased when replenishment is going on, just as pain is not the same as being operated on even though we are pained when the operation occurs (see also X.5 1175b34-36). Yet if virtuous activities are ertergeiai, then they must be complete in and of themselves, so how can pleasure be said to complete them? Aristotle dismisses this question in X.4

(1 175a19-21) when he says that pleasure and activity '...seem to be bound up together and not to admit of separation since without activity pleasure does not arise, and every activity is completed by the attendant pleasure.' But perhaps we can infer Aristotle's answer from a statement he makes earlier on that no action is virtuous unless it is accompanied by pleasure (11.3 1104b4-9),which suggests that virtuous action is an energeia and complete only when accompanied by pleasure, another energeia, both of which are so closely bound up that they do not admit of separation (X.4 1175a19-20). understand what the noble is and therefore to understand what it means to

do the noble thing in all situations. We cannot be generous and lend our

friends money at the expense of repaying our debt and hence be just,

unless we know what justice entails, and similarly with all the virtues.

Moreover, when we act, it isn't that we think in terms of tidy little

categories of generosity and justice, but rather in terms of what the right

or noble thing is to do (contra Sorab-ji 1980, p. 208). Hence Aristotle

rightly holds that to be able to do the right thing in general and on a

consistent basis requires working within a united conception of virtue. 18

3. Freedom and Determination

So far we have seen in the previous section that one of the reasons

that ends are not deliberated upon is that, by end, Aristotle means something general like the notion of the noble; and the inclination to do

18 Nor is there deliberation of ends in the case of incontinence. For the

incontinent either does not have true knowledge of the good (as in the case of someone simply mouthing the Pythagorean theorem) or simpIy has knowledge overridden by appetite (cf. VII.3 1147a25ff), (whether such overriding involves reason is not of concern for us here). This is why Aristotle tells us that the incontinent acts contrary to choice (VII.8 115 1a6-7). For having decided to act one way, based on his knowledge of what the good is in a particular situation, he is overcome by passion and is unable to live up to his decision. the right thing is a general one and not something one has to think about.

Yet one must ask how we come to have the right or wrong disposition to act if not by deliberation, since people do have different ends and

Aristotle does think that we are responsible for them (111.5 11 14b21-24).

For this therefore, we must examine what Aristotle has to say in Book 111, for what I hope will become clear is that an end is not something that we can acquire at will, but only something that is developed and nurtured over a long period of time, and therefore not subject to deliberation. 19

This section is thus not an aside; I go to great lengths to show how ends are revised precisely because I want to make it clear that under no circumstances can ends be deliberated upon.

We have already seen that there is a reciprocal relation between feelings and actions - feelings determine the range of possible actions, and repeated actions in particular types of situations determine how we feel and hence what our ends are in such situations. But the disposition to respond in a particular way is not simply the product of repeating the same action, but the same type of action in similar yet different contexts.

In addition, virtuous action is not some sort of automatic Pavlovian response, but the choosing of such actions and choosing them for their

l9 Also, in this section I hope it will become clear why I think Kosrnan

(1980 p. 114) is wrong in holding that even though Aristotle does think that we choose how we feel in the long run, he does not discuss the possibility of choosing our feelings in the NE. own sakes, or what we call character building, all of which takes time and

effort to nurture and develop. This relation between feelings and actions

is clearly assumed in Aristotle's discussion of the relation of choice and

wish in 111.2 (1 11lb20ff). He says choice is not wish even though it is near it. It isn't like choice because we can wish for what others can accomplish (e.g., we wish that Anthropos wins the race) and also for the impossible (e.g., we can wish to be in two places at once), whereas choice is concerned with only what we can accomplish and with the possible.

Another important distinction between them is that choice is of means and wish is for ends. Hence we say that we wish to be happy and not that we choose/decide to be happy, since we can choose only what is up to us. Aristotle seems to think that choice and wish are near not only because choice is a means to the end which is a product of wish and that both are ultimately concerned with objects of desire, but because wish for things within our power is like choice in some sense, for we can wish to be healthy or unhealthy just as we can choose to act in a healthy manner or not. The difference between the two is that choice has immediate temporal ramifications, whereas the objects of wish are obtained only in the long run as a result of repeated actions: E.g., healthy actions lead to health and virtuous ones to happiness. Hence Aristotle can say in the De

Anirna (433b50) that the difference between rational desire (or wish) and thumos is a function of time (cf. Broadie 1991 pp. 106-7). Moreover, by being habituated to act virtuously we not only become virtuous, but it is then we are best able to act virtuously. Thus, "...by being habituated to

despise things that are fearful and to stand our ground against them we

become brave, and it is when we have become so that we shall be most

able to stand our ground against them." (11.2 1 lO4b 1-3)

But while all this is well and good for those brought up in a good

environment and with good habits, what of those who are not the kind to

take care (111.5 1 14 1 a3), and who don't have the good fortune to be born

in good families? How can they be held responsible for their ends and

hence for their actions (Hardie 1980, p. 175)? Aristotle thinks that they

are responsible for their ends because "it is activities exercised on

particular objects that make the corresponding character. This is plain

from the case of people training for any contest or action; they practice

the activity the whole time. Now not to know that it is from the exercise of activities on particular objects that the states of character are produced is the mark of a thoroughly senseless person." (111.5 11 114a6-10) In other words, one cannot be ignorant of the fact that repeated action leads tc corresponding states, for this is a matter of common sense. Thus even if we are not well brought up, we are responsible for our character and for our ends. For if we are vicious now, it is so as a result of repeated vicious action in the past.20

It can perhaps be objected further that if you have a bad upbringing or are born vicious, you may not even know what the distinction is

20 See Broadie 1991 pp. 172-4 for a different take on this issue. between virtue and vice, good and bad, even if you did know by common sense that repeated actions lead to corresponding states. After all, when explaining the above in terms of the health analogy. Aristotle says that you are responsible for your current illness if you did not obey the doctor's instructions from the start (1 114a14-16). But in the parallel case of virtue, the equivalent of the doctor - the moral instructor - is not available to a person with a bad upbringing. To make matters worse, one can't but help get the feeling, generated by a handful of scattered references throughout the Ethics, that Aristotle thinks if we are simply left to ourselves, then we are naturally inclined to be led by the more obvious bodily pleasures (see for instance VII.14). Yet Aristotle also says that for all people, actions done in ignorance of purposive ends and universal truths in general (e.g., parricide is wrong) are voluntary (111.1

11 10b25-33), and only those that are done because of the ignorance of particutars are involuntary and that too only if followed by remorse

(1 LlObl7ff). How then can those poorly brought up be responsible for their purposive ends?

The answer, I suggest, is an obvious one for Aristotle, because for him the notion of a moral educator is a wider one than it is for us. For us, being habituated to act virtuously is usually seen as the job of the family or teacher, but Aristotle makes it very clear in the beginning of the NE that the laws of the state and hence the legislators are also the teachers of virtue (cf. Nussbaum 1986 pp. 304-5; Broadie 199 1 p. 5 l), a suggestion that makes more sense perhaps in the polis of Aristotle's time than in a democratic nation state of today. Hence "...legislators make the citizens good by forming habits in them, and this is the wish of every legislator, and those who do not effect it miss their mark, and it is in this that a good constitution differs from a bad one." (11.1 1 103b2-6f1 But the relation of the laws and lawgivers to the citizen is not just unilateral but bilateral.

For no matter what one's upbringing, one has a responsibility to obey the laws of the state, a notion that is just as commonsensical as the one regarding the relation of actions to states and in fact more so. This is why

Aristotle says we punish people for not knowing the laws which they should know about, especially if they are ignorant because they are careless, since they have the power not to be ignorant and the power to take care about such things (111.5 11 13b3S-1114a3). The laws

2 I More explicitly, AristotIe says in X.9 1 179b3 1- 1 180a 1 that "...it is difficult to get from youth up a right training for excellence if one has not been brought up under right laws; for to live temperately and hardily is not pleasant for most people, especially when they are young. For this reason their nurture and occupations should be fixed by law; for they will not be painful when they have become customary." Cf. also I. 13 1102a7-10 "The true student of politics, too, is thought to have studied virtue above all things; for he wishes to make his fellow citizens good and obedient to the laws." Also, in V.1 full justice is equated with law abidingness and complete excellence which makes the connection between virtue and the law quite explicit. consequently act as a guide to virtuous action in the absence of a good

As for being born vicious, Aristotle's position is a bit more complicated and is presented in a brief and controversial paragraph in the

Ethics:

(1.1) Whether, then, it is not by nature that the end appears to each man such as it does appear, but something also depends on him, or the end is natural but because the good man adopts the means voluntarily virtue is voluntary; for in the case of the bad man there is equally present that which depends on himself in his actions even if not in his end. (1.2) If, then, as is asserted, the virtues are voluntary (for we are somehow part-causes of our states of character, and it is by being persons of a certain kind that we set the end to be so and so), the vices also will be voluntary; for the same is true of them. (m.5 I1 14bl) It is generally thought that there is not enough in the paragraph to explain the two brief phrases, 'but something also depends on him' and

'we are somehow part causes of our states of character,' that appear in it.

But I think there is. Recall that Aristotle says in 11.1 (1 103a23-25) that we are virtuous (and hence vicious) neither by nature nor contrary to it but in fact are adapted by nature to become virtuous. Now some of us are born more naturally courageous than others (VI. 13 1144b30-1145a2) and the same can be said of being naturally prone to vice, and it is this sense of

" It could be objected that if the laws are good, then the nature of one's upbringing is irrelevant. But Aristotle's response is that a good upbringing is better since it is able to work out the details that differ from person to person, whereas the laws are universal and therefore less accurate (X.9 1180b7ff). Yet on the issue of moral responsibility, the poorly brought up individual is just as responsible for his actions as the well brought up one. preliminary ends that Aristotle means are not up to us in 1.1 - But in 1.2,

Aristotle says while these preliminary ends are not up to us, how we

choose to act is up to us and in this sense then that Aristotle means

'something depends on him' (whether it be with the aid of our teachers or

the laws) and it is many actions of this kind which lead to the setting of

our ends, which makes us 'part causes of our character.' Thus Aristotle

can say that "actions and states are not voluntary in the same way; for we

are masters of our actions from the beginning right to the end, if we know

the particular facts, but though we control the beginning of our states the gradual progress is not obvious, any more than it is in illness; because it was in our power, however, to act in this way or not in this way, therefore the states are voluntary." (1 1 l4b30-1115a3)

Such a reading also clarifies a curious point that Aristotle makes at the beginning of 111.1 (1 109a30) that not only on voluntary actions but also on voluntary passions are praise and blame bestowed. For while we can see how actions are voluntary, the passions are different since they are something we have by nature (11.5 ); so how are they voluntary? They are voluntary in the sense that virtue and hence being disposed to feel in a certain way is up to us (11.5 1105b24ff). What the above discussion makes clear is that while actions are voluntary in the short run, passions are so only in the long run as a result of habit and can be changed only over similarly long periods of time. Now if feelings determine actions, is it possible for the vicious man

to act virtuously, contrary to his end? Let us look at continence and

incontinence to understand the full implications of this question. Even

though the continent man acts contrary to desire and with choice, it must be the case that there is some desire that is in accordance with deliberation which overcomes the bad desires, for reason by itself moves nothing but only reason in accordance with right desire (VI.2 1139a39-b5;

1.3 1095a9-11). The incontinent, on the other hand, acts contrary to choice

(which is deliberate desire) and with appetite. Though the desire to do the right sort of thing persists in him, its intensity ranges from high in those who are on the brink of continence, to supine in those verging on vice. So it follows that such inclinations must be non-existent in the case of the vicious man, and if so, how is it possible for him to ever become good?

1 suggest that it isn't possible for the vicious to become good. Let me explain with the help of the health analogy that Aristotle relies on so often. Suppose I am and have been a heavy drinker for many years now and I have reached the age where the effects of the alcohol are beginning to tell on my system; thus I am no longer able to shrug off a hangover as easily as I used to, and have the shakes much more often. If I decide to quit now, then it is still possible for me to regain my health but if I continue drinking and reach a point where my liver fails as do my eyes, then at this point, no matter what I do, it is no longer possible for me to be healthy again (111.5 1 1 14a24-27). So too with the vicious. At some point, before one becomes vicious, the possibility of reform is still a living option (perhaps when one isn't too jaded to have some fear or regard for the law as in the case of someone who is incontinent), but not after? Hence Aristotle says in VII.8 that incontinence is an intermittent state and curable whereas vice is unconscious of itself and incurable

(1 150b29-36).Yet because it was possible for their ends to be otherwise at some point, though now it isn't, Aristotle thinks the vicious are still responsible for their states of character. For, "...just as when you have let a stone go it is too late to recover it; but yet it was in your power not to throw it, since the moving principle was in you." (1 114a10-22) 24

The vicious man may perform good actions by mistake for it is logically possible for him to perform such actions, but such actions are not truly moral, for as we have seen before, moraI action requires knowledge as well as the choosing of the act and choosing it for its own sake, and doing so from a firm and unchanging character (11.4 1 105a30ff).

" In Categories 13a23-31 Aristotle says: "For the bad man, if led into better ways of living and talking, would make progress, if only a little, towards being better. And if he once make even a little progress it is clear that he might either change completely or make really great progress. For however sIight the progress he made to begin with, he becomes ever more easily changed towards virtue, so that he is likely to make still more progress; and when this keeps happening it brings him over completely into the contrary state, provided time permits." Thus even those with a bad upbringing have, at some point in their

lives, the ability to change their ends. It is true, we are determined after a

certain point, whether by good or bad, but even this determination is up to

us before this point. Hence we are responsible for our ends?More

Now this is taken by Bonderson (1974) to mean that it is possible for a vicious

man to become good. He argues (p. 60) it is possible to act contrary to one's character for we are not born virtuous but in fact acquire goodness, which sometimes means acting contrary to one's inclinations. But as explained above, acting contrary to one's incipient natural ends is much like the moderately unhealthy drunk trying to reform. Such scenarios are within the realm of possibility whereas trying to regain one's health once one has lost one's liver is not, just as it is no longer possible for a vicious man to become good.

But how then are we to understand Aristotle's statement in the

Categories that it is possible for a bad man to become good? One suggestion is that because the bad man is someone who can be led to better ways of living and talking, Aristotle means someone who is strongly incontinent (i.e. someone who has very little remorse) as opposed to the truly vicious, who wouIdnVtbe someone that could be led. Hence Aristotle uses 'bad' (phaulos) instead of

'vicious' (kakos) which is technicalty the contrary of virtue.

25 But what of those who are not born in civil society? Are they responsible for their ends? Probably not, for Aristotle speaks of them as barbarians and as

'...foolish people ... who by nature are thoughtless and live by their senses alone ...' (V11.6 1149a9-10) and therefore not people you would treat as responsible human beings.. importantly, for it has greater direct import for our discussion, we see very clearly what Aristotle means when he says that we don't deliberate about ends. For deliberation results in choice and choice is always of action, whereas an end is a result of many similar kinds of actions and of habituation, and therefore not subject to deliberation. So far then we have discussed how we change the general end of action, which in the case of the good man is the kalon. But this is not the same as the grand end of thecria, so next we will have to consider the relation of good action to the6rria to understand in what sense the grand end is not subject to deliberation, but rather something that the good man naturally apprehends

(111.4 11 13a23-30). To do this, we will have to examine Aristotle's function argument since it holds the key to relating practical action to the Grin.

4. Function

To begin, I first present the function argument in full as it appears in the NE and then comment on several different aspects that are relevant to our discussion.

(a) Presumably, however, to say that happiness is the chief good seems a platitude, and a clearer account of what it is is still desired. This might perhaps be given, if we could first ascertain the function of man. For just as for a flute- player, a sculptor, or any artist, and, in general, for dl things that have a function or activity, the good and the 'well' is thought to reside in the function, so would it seem to be for man, if he has a function. Have the carpenter, then, and the tanner certain functions or activities, and has man none? Is he naturally functionless? Or as eye, hand, foot, and in general each of the parts evidently has a function, may one lay it down that man similarly has a function apart from ali these? What then can this be?

(b) Life seems to be common even to plants, but we are seeking what is peculiar (idi~n)'~to man. Let us exclude, therefore, the life of nutrition and growth. Next there would be a life of perception, but it also seems to be common even to the horse, the ox, and every animal. There remains, then, an active life of the element that has a rational principle (of this, one part has such a principle in the sense of being obedient to one, the other in the sense of possessing one and exercising thought); and as this too can be taken in two ways, we must state that life in the sense of activity is what we mean; for this seems to be the more proper sense of the term.

(cl) Now if the function of man is an activity of soul in accordance with, or not without, rational principle, and if we say a so-and-so and a good so-and-so have a function which is the same in kind, e.g., a lyre-player and a good lyre player, and so without qualification in a11 cases, eminence in respect of excellence being added to the function (for the function of a lyre-player is to play the lyre, and that of a good lyre-player is to do it well): (c2) if this is the case, and we state the function of man to be a certain kind of life, and this to be an activity or actions of the soul implying a rational principle, and the hnction of a good man to be good and noble performance of these, and if any action is well performed when it is performed in accordance with the appropriate excellence: (c3) if this is the case, human good turns out to be activity of soul in conformity with excellence, and if there are more than one excellence, in conformity with the best and most complete. (1.7 lO97b22- lO98al7)

In (a) Aristotle is customarily thought to be making a fallacious inference (Suits 1974). For he seems to be saying that just because all the parts of a human, e-g., eyes, hands, etc. distributively have functions, it must be the case that all the parts collectively conceived as the whole human being must have a function. In other words, the argument involves

'6 Whiting 1995, p. 194, suggests 'essential' here instead of 'peculiar.' But the context, since the discussion is in terms of exclusion and commonality, suggests that 'peculiar' is more appropriate. a fallacy of composition. But it isn't that Aristotle goes from saying that since an eye, hand, foot, etc. have functions to saying that humans too must have a function, but rather it must be the case that we have a conception of functioning parts precisely because the whole has a function; otherwise function as a concept that applies to the parts would be unintelligible. Thus if an engineer is confronted with an assemblage of alien technology, it would be easier for her to understand what each part does if she knew the function of the whole; whether it is meant to be a carbon dioxide converter or a warp drive. A similar point is made with reference to the tanner and flute player. Tanning and flute-playing are capacities that are available to humans but not to the other animals, capacities that pre-suppose rational ability (as Aristotle tells us in (b)) without which it would not be possible to play the flute or make leather.

Thus here too the individual capacity would be incomprehensible without the underlying notion of human function.

In (b), Aristotle includes the practical virtues as part of what it means for a human to function well because the passions are thought to be no less human than reason (1 11 lb~),~'and because it distinguishes

27 Korsgaard (1986b p. 260) suggests that the virtues are not a part of what it means to be well-functioning, but rather, that which allows us to perform our function, which, on her reading, is the active life of the element which has a rational principle. The problem is that Aristotle specifically includes the practical virtues in the human function in V1.12 1144a6-9, VI.2 1139bl1-14 and humans not only from the animals (who have only the passions) and plants

(who have neither), but aiso from God (who has only reason, or more

accurately, is intellect or nous) since it is rational/passional life that includes both theoretical and practical virtues. Function not only tells us what our good is, but distinguishes us from all other types of living things. Indeed, it is what makes us human as opposed to anything else.

But in (c3) Aristotle seems to exclude the multiple activities associated with the practical virtues and therefore, by extension, those associated with the theoretical ones and restricts the function to a single activity which is best and most complete, and which, as Book X.6-8 tells us, consists of contemplation (cf. White 1981 p. 239).28

1.12 1101b 12- 17 (as we shall see), aside from what I take to be a clear statement in (b) above.

28 I have already shown that Aristotle does narrow down happiness to a single activity in chapter 2, thought this has been disputed by many of the inclusive read ings of the function argument, notably Ackrill 1980 pp. 26-29 and

Keyt 1995 pp. 168-69- Additional evidence that Aristotle does mean to restrict

eudaimonia toI a single activity that excludes practically virtuous activity is clear from 1.12. For he says that while we praise things that are of a certain kind and related somehow to other things e.g., virtue and virtuous activity

'which is so praised because of the actions and functions involved ... [whereas]

...what applies to the best things is not praise, but something greater and better, as is indeed obvious; for what we do to the Gods and the most Godlike of men is to call them blessed and happy.' (1 101615-25) Thus practical virtue is 109 Why Aristotle restricts the human function to a singular activity can be understood in terms of the eye analogy that he uses in this context. A well functioning eye involves the normal functioning of the subsidiary processes such as the reception of the image, its conversion to electrochemical communication, and the decoding, etc., which results in what we call sight. Thus, as we would normally conceive it, the basic cellular functioning which the eye shares with all the other parts of the body are not part of the eye's function, though it cannot function without them, just as we cannot live without nutrition and perception. A well functioning eye involves all these subsidiary processes but yet the essence of a well-functioning eye, as Aristotle conceives it, consists simply of seeing well (i.e. without distortion), though sight is not possible if all the ocular sub-processes are not functioning properly (cf. EE 1.2 12 l4b 14-28;

Achtenburg 1989, pp. 60-62 and Keyt 1981 pp. 256-57). In the same way, practical virtue is part of what it means to function well as a human being, and only to a person who is moral is the human function of contemplation possible.

-- - - related to, and necessary for, e~daimoniabut cIearly not itself a part of what consists of happiness. This passage suggests what I say in what folIows above; narneIy that virtue is part of a well functioning being and related to contemplation, just as the properly working internal processes of a well functioning eye are related to seeing. Such an analogy suggests a natural necessity, for if sight results when all the sub-ocular processes are functioning well in an appropriately situated individual, then it must also be the case that practically virtuous activity which constitutes the activities of a well-functioning human being culminates in the essential human function, thecria, in much the same way

(as I will show in section 5). Hence Aristotle says that '...the function of man is achieved only in accordance with practical wisdom as well as moral excellence [as the presence of one presupposes that of the other]; for excellence makes the aim right, and practical wisdom the things leading to it." (VI.12 1144a6-9 emphasis added.)

A probIem that results from such a reading is that since God, and possibly the other divine beings, contemplate too, and since a species' function distinguishes it from other species, how can we have the same function as God and yet be different from himzg? As I have hinted above,

'' Kraut 1989, pp. 313-17, thinks that our function is peculiar in that it is not shared with all plants and animals even though it is something that we share with the Gods. For, to say that we emulate the activities of the Gods - who are our betters - is reasonable, but to have our function common with the animals is to say that we cannot rise above our animal nature. The problem is that such a solution does not answer the question of how we can distinguish one species from another, since we normally do so it terms of function. The solution that follows I think avoids such a problem and at the same time explains how the6ria, an activity that we share with the Gods, can in fact be peculiar to us.

Ill God is nothing but the act of contemplation whereas humans are different from God because of the way they become contemplators: i.e., by being practically virtuous. Thus though sight can be achieved by a robotic eye, since the way in which it is achieved is different from the way a human eye achieves it, we can say that even though both types of eyes see, they are distinct. So too with humans and God for even though our final activity is the same as God's, the way it is achieved is different.30

Finally, in (cl) and (c2) Aristotle makes a distinction between functioning and functioning well, which, as Gomez-Lobo (1989 p. 45) points out, is important; for the vicious man does reason and the irrational soul does obey his reason. So how can the virtuous man, who also follows his reason, be considered to be functioning well but not the vicious man?

30 There is another important difference between divine and human contemplation; human thecria is an actualization of the passive intellect, whereas there is nothing passive about God who is pure actuality. I explain this in greater detail in chapter 5.

Whiting (I995 pp.293-4) suggests that for humans, the conjunction of activities which culminate in theeria are all constitutive of eudaimonia. But, as we have already seen, Aristotle very clearly says that function is a single activity. This is confirmed by the Metaphysics where Aristotle's general position is that there is some single activity which is the essence of a naturaI substance and from which all other activities of that substance are derived (cf.

Tuozzo 1996 p. 131). First, it is true that all humans are led by what they conceive to be good or noble, whether this be the real or apparent kalon, and to the extent that the concept of the noble requires reason, all intelligent life is primarily motivated by reason (Metaphysics Lambda 7 1072a26-b3; NE X.2 1173al-

5; Gomez-Lobo 1989, pp. 48-9). But how the notion of kalon is 'filled out' depends on whether we are motivated by appetite - in which case we are motivated primarily by pleasure - or reason, in which case we are motivated by that which is truly kalon (EE VII. 15 1248b7ff).~'To the extent that pleasure is what the appetitive individual conceives to be his good, he does not follow his reason, even though he uses his reason not only to conceive his good, but also to attain it.32

3 1 Hence I think Smith (1996 pp. 64-72) makes too stark a contrast between being motivated by reason and the noble on one hand, and by appetite and hence by pleasure and pain on the other. For reason conceives the end as good or noble even for those who are led by appetites, as we see below, and which is why Aristotle says of those who aren't good that they wish for the apparent good in 111.4 (1 113a25-6. See also Korsgaard I986b pp. 265-6 and Irwin 1988 pp. 330-32). This obviates Gomez-Lobo's concern (1989 pp. 48-9) that we cannot distinguish between the good and bad man's Iife since both are led by reason. As we have seen, the good man's life is truly led by reason whereas in the case of the vicious, the pleasant is thought to be the good.

32 In VI.12 1144b2036 AristotIe says when an action is done for its own sake or for the sake of the noble, it heIps the good man to further determine what the Second, recall that Aristotle says in 11.6 (1 106a5-23) that only if

the eye is seeing well can we say that it is functioning excellently and

that it is a good eye. Now if thecria is the equivalent of seeing, then only

when the5ria is going on can we be said to be functioning well. Thus all those activities that promote thefirla are the virtues which turn out to be actions that conform to the mean. But this of course suggests that virtuous actions don't have intrinsic value, for then we are virtuous only because they ultimately promote the6ria. But (as suggested in chapter 2) in fact they do have intrinsic value because they are done for the sake of the noble which means precisely that they are done for their own sake and not as means to some further end, even though they do promote that further end.33Consequently Aristotle can say that right actions are right only

right end is in a particular situation and as a result the right starting points, whereas in the case of the man whose main motivation in life is pleasure or vice in general, the end is corrupted (cf. similar statements that Aristotle makes on pleasure perverting the end in 1 198a15, 11.9 1 109b7ff, 111.4 11 13a28 and

VI.5 1140b12-19).

33 Thus to act with practical wisdom is not, as Sorabji (1980. p. 206-7) and

Irwin (1988 pp. 340-44) think, acting within an explicit rational conception of the good life (e.g., how and what can 1 do in this situation that will be consistent with my conception of the good life?). Rather, acting for the sake of the noble or the good naturally promotes the6ria and hence the good life, and when they are done for their own sake and never for any other reason,

even if this reason is that it promotes thecria. For to think in this way

means we don't do what is right for the right reason, but because of

rhe6rria - which no longer makes it right and therefore no longer promotes

the6ria. Thus he says that the end to which an agent looks in determining

how to act is always relative to the occasion (111.1 1110a12-13) and not

some grand end even though such actions cumulatively lead us to such an

end. Hence Aristotle thinks in 11.6 that the excellence of man makes a

man good [in the evaluative sense] and makes him do his work well [i.e.,

makes him a good contemplator] (1 106a15-23).

It could be objected that Aristotle says in several places (EE

VII. 15, NE VI. 12 and 13) that contemplation is the direct standard by

which it is determined whether an action is good or bad. Thus he says

"[wlhat choice, then, or possession of the natural goods - whether bodily goods, wealth, friends, or other things - will most produce the contemplation of God, that choice or possession is best; this is the noblest standard, but any that through deficiency or excess hinders one from the contemplation and service of God is bad;" (1249b 16-20), which suggests that every time we decide to act, we have to think whether or not the action is ultimately conducive to contemplation (cf. Kraut 1989 pp. 322-3;

seems to be more consistent with ordinary moral consciousness than Sorabji's version (see Broadie 1996 p. 94 for details). Ericksen 1976 pp. 128-9). But I think it is important to make a distinction here; i.e., whether we look at the action from the point of view of the agent or from that of a political scientist who is also practically wise (cf.

NE VI.8 1141b23ff).~~Thus if we consider things from the latter's perspective, then we look at the action which is done for its own sake as resulting in contemplation, for the political scientist wishes to make the citizens good and happy (I. 13 1102a7-10). It is in this sense that contemplation is a standard for all action. Hence Aristotle says that "[tlhe study of pleasure and pain belongs to the province of the political philosopher; for he is the architecr of the end, with a view to which we call one thing bad and another good without qualification." (VII.l 1

1152b14, emphasis added.) From such a perspective then, it is understandable why it seems that Aristotle is speaking in terms of means and ends (for actions undertaken for their own sake after all do result in rhe6rin), as he does in EE VII.15. But taken from the perspective of the agent, the action is simply done for its own sake and always in the context of an ethical situation where good action is itself the end (NE VI.5

1140b5ff).~~Thus while the virtues are intrinsically valuable and knlon

-- -

3-1 See Hill 1995 for a different take on the internal and external perspectives.

35 Cf. Broadie 1991 pp. 197-8 for a similar distinction but without the explanation as to why Aristotle makes such a distinction. Similarly, Heinaman, though he is talking of intrinsic goods in general which include virtuous action,

(1993 p. 38) agrees (as does Roche 1992 p. 67) that Aristotle holds that "...any and must be pursued as such from the subjective point of view of agent,

they derive their objective value from the final human good of thecria

which they ultimately promote.

Many philosophers would balk at the idea that the virtues need justification from anything other than the virtues themselves, which serves as a reminder of Kant's powerful legacy to us. But human rhe6ria is ultimately a moral activity since, as I will show, it emulates (and in fact becomes one with) God's contemplation. And God's eternal being, which is the very act of contemplation, is the highest good in the universe and the cause of all the good in the world (Metaphysics Lambda 7

1072b29ff; Lambda 10 1075a11-24). Thus for Aristotle, the highest moral activity possible does act as an objective criterion for practical activity.

This does not mean that the function argument gives us the justification for each individual virtue, nor is it meant to. What it does is give us a general criterion of action; i.e., the noble (to kalon) or acting for the sake of the action itself, where this is derived directly from the function

good generally promotes eudaimonia, and so far as it does so has extrinsic value with regard to that further good. But when commentators appeal to the hierarchy of value in the Nicomachean Ethics Book I and the fact that the goods below eudaimonia are for the sake of that highest good, they disregard the point that Aristotle is speaking at the most general level. The same relation of goods to eudaimonia need not exist in particular cases." argument. For to act in accordance with the noble is to act virtuously and

be functioning well, and functioning well produces thecria.

5. Contemplation and the Ethical Man

So far, then, we have seen how it is possible that Aristotle's

statements that an action undertaken for its own sake (or for the sake of

the noble) are compatible with those that suggest that virtuous action is a

means to thecria and hence to happiness. For I have suggested that acting

for the sake of the kalon results in theGria, and thecria is the activity that

constitutes eudaimonia for Aristotle (cf. X.7-8). Yet the explanation is

incomplete for we have not shown the intrinsic connection between

thecrria and practical virtue. In other words, we have to see how the

formal aspects of moral action tie in with those of thecria, and make

explicit the connections that are implicit in the text between the active

and contemplative lives. For this, several different crucial texts from both

the NE and the EE will have to be considered.

First, a reminder of some of the things we discussed in the previous chapter: At 1.10 (1 101a5-6) Priam is called happy.36 In VI.5 (1 140b4-10)

36 This statement is controversial as I explained in chapter 2, for Aristotle does not make it directly but qualifies it so much both before and after he makes it

(e.g., 1100a4-9; 1100bI 121; 1101a913), that it is difficult to see what his real position is on the matter. In any case, it does not affect my point. Suppose the misfortune that Priarn suffers means that he is no longer happy but wretched or 118 it is said of "...Pericles and men like him [that] they have practical

wisdom, viz. because they can see what is good for themselves and what

is good for men in general." In case we think this is limited to the life of

politics only, we must remember Aristotle's statements in 1.2 (1094a27-

b7) that politics is the architectonic science so that its end must include

those of all the other sciences since it legislates what we should and

should not do, in which case its end must be the good for man (or

happiness). And just in case we have forgotten that this happiness is distinct from practical action itself, we have to remember that Aristotle

tells us in X.7 that "...the action of the statesman is unleisurely, and- apart from the poIitical actions itself-aims at despotic power and honours, or at all events happiness, for him and his fellow citizens-a

even something in-between, my point is that it is possible for Priam to be blessed and happy in the full sense had he not suffered such misfortune. That

Aristotle is not talking here simply of happiness resulting from practical virtue is clear because in the same chapter (1.10) he distinguishes between virtuous activities that are valuable and most valuable, where the most valuable can be indulged in most continuously (1 100b13-16).a clear reference to the discussion in X.7 (1 188a21ff) of the fact that we contemplate more continuously than we can do anything else. That contemplation is in fact in Aristotle's mind when discussing Priam's predicament in 1.10 is clear from his reference to it in

1100b20, right after his distinction between valuable and most valuable virtues that I discuss below. happiness different from political action, and evidently sought as being different." (1 177b12-15 emphasis added.) At IV.3 (1 123b28-29) Aristotle describes the great souled or proud man as good in the highest degree and therefore the best of men. Since the best men are also the ones who act in accordance with the good for man, it follows that the proud man will also be happy. Finally, Hector by dint of his superhuman virtue is called heroic and divine (in the same way as the contemplator is called divine in

X.7) on the grounds of sheer excess of excellence (VII.1 1145a16-27).'?

In all these discussions, Aristotle does not make a distinction between primary and secondary happiness that he makes later on in X.8.

Here he seems to think that all these men are happy in the fullest sense of the word even though they are not philosophers and therefore, one would think, cannot be contemplators. Now because these kinds of texts suggest that full happiness is available to the practically good man that the inclusive reading - where practically virtuous activity is equated with eudaimonia in the fullest sense - has become so popular today, as has the

37 Note also that the conception of the Gods here is not the popular one

(Aristotle talks of both popular and his own philosophical conception of God in the corpus but is not always clear when he is talking of which) for he says just as '...a brute has no vice or excellence, so neither has a God; his state is higher than [practical] excellence ...' (1 145a25-26 emphasis added). Since Hector is directly compared to such Gods, it must be the case that his state too is higher than practical exceIlence by which Aristotle presumably means contemplation' conviction that the latter part of X is an earlier version of the Ethics

(Jaeger 1948, chapter IX). If we can show that practically virtuous activity culminates in contemplation for Aristotle, we can account for the inclusive intuitions that such texts engender.

In his discussion of pleasure in VII.12, Aristotle makes the following curious statement (1 152b33-1153a7):

.. .one kind of good being activity and another being state, the processes that restore us to our natural state are only incidentally pleasant, for that matter the activity at work in the appetites for them is the activity of so much of our state and nature as has remained unimpaired; for there are actually pleasures that involve no pain or appetite (e.g., those of contemplation) the nature in such a case not being defective at all. That the others are incidental is indicated by the fact that men do not enjoy the same things when their nature is in its settled state as they do when it is been replenished, but in the former case they enjoy the things that are pleasant without qualification, in the latter the contraries of these as well; for then they enjoy even sharp and bitter things, none of which is pleasant either by nature or without qualification.38

Aristotle, it is acknowledged, is making two points: first, that pleasure is not a function of the restorative process (kineSis) but the activity (energeia) of the still healthy disposition (hexis). If the disposition were completely destroyed, then not only is restoration impossible, but so also pleasure. Since I discuss this aspect of the passage in the next chapter (though see also Stewart 1892, v.2 p.230-232 and

Owen 197 I), here I will concentrate on the second aspect, which has to do with the relation of pIeasures associated with the restorative processes and those associated with the activities of the completely restored state.

39eealso X.4 1174b33-1 175a2 for a simiIar sort of statement. Stewart doesn't make a logical connection between the example of

contemplation as an activity of a perfected state in the first part of the

paragraph, and that of the appetites as an example of the restorative process in the second- But I think there is such a connection. Recall that

the virtue in charge of the appetites is temperance (111.10 1117b24-25) and it is only the temperate man who can correctly replenish his natural

needs as opposed to being attracted to that which is contrary to what is pleasant by nature. Yet this is not all that would constitute a settled state from which the activity of contemplation arises, for it is not the case that such a nature 'is not ... defective at all'. For a perfected nature must not only be free from the pains of appetite, but from unnecessary pain in general. Hence it must be the case that a perfect nature requires perfect virtue, since we are told in 11.3 that virtue is concerned with pleasure and pain (1 104b9-10; see also VII. I L 1 152b lff and X. 1 L 172a19ff), but much more importantly because all the virtues, with some qualifications - such as being disposed to actions that are done in the right way, time, amount, etc. - are defined as states of impassivity and rest (1 104b24-28). Thus "...

'change in all things is sweet', as the poet says, because of some vice; for it is the vicious man that is changeable, so the nature that needs change is vicious; for it is not simple or good.'' (VII. 14 1154b29-3 1) Whereas

"...God always enjoys a single and simple pleasure; for there is not only an activity of movement but an activity of immobility, and pleasure is found more in rest than in movement." (VII. 14 1 154b26-29) The suggestion, then, seems to be that contemplative activity arises when the passions and appetites are controlled and brought to a state of rest, a control that is provided by virtue.3g For virtuous actions are activities

(energeiai) and ends in themselves and therefore complete insofar as they do not leave behind any residue of actions or passions which thus allows for theGria, whereas vicious actions are processes ( kingses) that not only are incomplete in terms of the emotional residue they leave behind, but also because of the further action that they

While this may be true of the philosophically trained virtuous man, i-e., he needs to be good to do philosophy welt and uItimateIy become a contemplator (cf. chapters 4, 5 and 6), we still have to see how the direct connection between virtue simpliciter and thecria can be made, as I suggest it can. To this task I turn next.

39 The settled state that Aristotle talks about here seems to make us as Godlike as humanly possible, but does not make us Gods, for as he points out in X.8

1178b9-16, the Gods cannot be thought to have the baser appetites.

40 Tuozzo (1996 pp. 145-6) suggests a similar position though he thinks that virtuous actions have intrinsic value because they complete our potential natures and are energeiai (Physics 247a2), whereas I think they are energeiai because they are done for the sake of themselves and thereby have intrinsic value. Also, he (pp. 144-5) resorts to the Magna Moralia to find this notion of virtue as impassivity and rest whereas, as I show above, it is also available in the NE. First, we have to see what exactly contemplation is of. The discussion in the current literature suggests that contemplation is of a completed picture of knowledge in what has been called a single act of intuition (Rorty 1980b; see also Wilkes 1980, Hill 1996 p. 106, Irwin

1985 p. 427 and Broadie 1991 p. 401 for variations on this theme). Such a description is not an unfair one since in VI.8, sophin is defined as

'...knowledge (epistEm@ combined with comprehension (nous) of the things that are highest by nature.' (114 1b2-3) And since epistgmt? is of all things that exist eternally and necessarily (VI.3 1 139b 19-25), contemplation - taken rightly to be a function of sophia - is thought to be of the eternal, necessary cosmic picture. Add to this the cryptic statement in X.7 (1 177a26-27) that "...it is expected that those who know will pass their time more pleasantly than those who inquire", and the position does not seem unreasonable at all. Of course, such a conception of rhe6ria is rather puzzling, as well as boring, and does not seem to merit either the central importance that Aristotle gives it in his ethical treatises, or the ecstatic Augustinian sentiments - as Nagel (1980 p. 8 ) calls it - with which he expresses them. Granted that when we first see the big picture - whether it be cosmic or one of a mathematical theorem - it often is very exciting, but hardly the sort of pleasurable excitement that endures enough for Aristotle to say that it is this kind of activity that we can undertake and enjoy more continuously than anything else (X.7 1177a21-

24). For one would think that it is almost always better - and more pleasurable - to be in the process of acquiring knowledge than simply gazing at that which is already understood (Wilkes 1980, pp. 353-4).

Part of the reason that such a puzzie arises, I think, is because to say that the6rria is of a completed picture of knowledge is to misrepresent

Aristotle's view; for contemplation for him is not of all the objects of knowledge, but of the highest one, God (cf. Kraut 1989 pp. 73-76). Now while this point is only implicit in the NE (cf. X.4 1174b14-19; VI.7

1140b 17- 19; 1.9 1099b 19-23)and therefore subject to controversy, it is quite explicit in the EE 7.15 (1249b 16-22 emphasis added14': "What choice, then, or possession of the natural goods - whether bodily goods,

'' Some may object to my resorting to the EE for support on such a crucial issue of my thesis which purports to be on the NE. I: have suggested already in chapter 2 that the NE explains contemplation both in terms of both philosophical and non-philosophical individuals both of whom are practically wise, the EE explains contemplation in the context of the non-philosophical but practically wise man, as I will show in a moment. The Eudernian version is helpful in making clear how the non-philosophical but practically wise man can be a contemplator, and since I don't think the two treatises are inconsistent, I use the EE's explanation to make what is implicit in the NE explicit. Objections regarding the incompatible conceptions of eudairnonia in the earlier parts of the

NE and EE have already been answered in chapter 2. Even if we take EE 11.1 to be uncertain enough to be open to an inclusive reading, VII.15 is conclusive~y exclusive as I will show momentarily. wealth, friends, or other things - will most produce the contemplation of

God, that choice or possession is best; this is the noblest standard, but any that through deficiency or excess hinders one from the contemplation and service of God is bad; this a man possesses in his soul, and this is the best standard for the soul - to perceive the irrational part of the soul, as such, as little as possible." Similarly, such statements are made (1 149b 10- 15) or implied ( 1248a22ff; l249a2 1-b 10) in the same chapter several times. If we take this to be the NE's point as well (as I will argue it is in chapter

6), then we can see why Aristotle would say that it is better to know than to be in the process of inquiry. For he is not talking simply of an intellectual understanding of the world, but of a deeply spiritual and intuitive experience of God - the formal, final and efficient cause of the world - and thereby an understanding of the underpinnings of the world?

42 Rorty 1980b pp. 388ff gives the only other reading that I know of which explicitly states that a non-philosopher can be a contemplator. She thinks thedria is achieved when we contemplate the form of Humanity as perfected in the lives our virtuous friends. The problem is that even if we agree that the human form is more perfect in the virtuous than in the vicious, human form is not the highest possible object of contemplation as Aristotle specifically requires it to be in X.4 1174b14-19, since as VI.7 1141a ff. tells us, even though humans are the best of the animals, there are many other things that are better and more divine by nature, notably 'the bodies of which the heavens are It is for this reason then, that Aristotle thinks we do enjoy such activity more than any other.

However, God is not someone external to us, but is in fact essentially connected to our nature, and Aristotle tells us as much in EE

VII.14. EE VII.14 is a difficult chapter for many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that the text is uncertain in several places. For our purposes it is enough to know that Aristotle is here concerned with how fortune (eutuchias), like wisdom (phroneSis) in accordance with virtue, 43 can also produce success in action (1246b37-1247a1). His main conclusion is that whether it be deliberative thought or good fortune that is a product of a lucky nature, God seems to be the origin of both kinds of success. I present the relevant passage in full:

(i) This, however, one might question: whether fortune is the cause of just this, viz. desiring what and when one ought. (ii) But will it not in this case be the cause of everything, even of thought and deliberation? (iii) For one does not deliberate after previous deliberation which itself presupposed deliberation, but there is a starting point; (iv) nor does one think after thinking previously to thinking, and so ad infiniturn. (v) Thought, then, is not the starting-point of thinking nor deliberation of deliberation. (vi) What, then, can be the starting- point except chance? Thus everything would come from chance. (vii) Perhaps there is a starting-point with none outside it, and this can act in this sort of way by being such as it is. (viii) The object of our search is this-what is the commencement of movement in the soul? (ix) The answer is clear: as in the universe, so in the soul, it is God. (x) For in a sense the divine element in us moves everything. (xi) The starting-point of reasoning is not reasoning, but

framed.' Hence the5ria could not be of the human form as embodied in the life of a virtuous friend.

43 Reading "Epei d' ou monon h8phronEsis poiei tgn eupragian kath' aretgn" with Rackham and not 'kai areti%' with the Oxford translation. something greater. (xii) What then, could be greater even than knowledge.. .d4 but God? (xiii) For excellence (areta is an instrument of the intellect. (xiv) And for this reason, as I said a while ago, those are called fortunate who, whatever they start on, succeed in it without being good in reasoning. (xv) And deliberation is of no advantage to them, for they have in them a principle that is better than intellect and deliberation, while the others have not this but have intellect; (xvi) they have inspiration but they cannot deliberate. (xvii) For, though lacking reason, they succeed, and Iike the prudent and wise, their divination is speedy; (xviii) and we must mark off as included in it all but the judgement that comes from reasoning; (xix) in some cases it [i.e., the success that is due to reasoning] is due to experience, in others to habituation in the use of reflection; (xx) and both experience and habituation use God. (1248a16-38)

This passage consists of three parts. In the first (i-xiii), Aristotle

tells us that even those who are successful by dint of their virtue (xiii)

and deliberation (ii) - and hence are wise (phront5moi) - use God as a

starting point (xii). For deliberation cannot presuppose prior deliberation

forever, as this results in an infinite series, which is impossible (iv-v), as

is the likelihood that deliberation begins with chance (vi), since the

universe is purposeful. It must be, then, that the starting point of reason

which itself must be beyond reason is the same as the starting point of all

motion which is beyond motion - God (xi-xii). The implication is that reason is ultimately successful in the wise, not simply because of its

innate nature, but because it has the right starting point in God.

In the second part (xiv-xvii), Aristotle tells us that the fortunate are successful like the wise not because of intellection but because of inspiration, since they too begin in God (xv-xvi). Their decisions are

44 Deleting 'kai nod added by Spengeler for reasons that I will explain in chapter 5.

128 quicker perhaps because their divination is not rational and therefore

more consonant with the activity of their suprarational first principle.

Finally, in the third part (xvii-xx), Aristotle includes, as we would expect,

habituation and experience (as necessary for the development of virtuous

dispositions) under reason and judgement (cf. section 1) and therefore

beginning in God as well.

So far then, based on EE VII. I5 (l249b66-22) and VII. 14 (1248a16-

38), it is clear that God is not only the object of contemplation, but somehow also the source of all intellectual (including contemplative) activity in the wise and successful man, although how this is the case is not clear in this text. 45 Aristotle seems to state, with some hesitation

35 One problem with this reading is that while the lucky successful individual has special access to God, it must also be the case that all other humans, being rational, must have access to God as the starting point of rationality. So what distinguishes good humans from bad ones if it is the case that God is the starting point for all thought? Why is it that some are good and successful whereas others not? One reasonable answer seems to be that while all human thought in some sense begins in God, how it is nurtured and developed via habituation and experience will have a great influence on success or failure, which is why Aristotle specifically mentions habit and experience in (xix-xx).

Hence, to invoke that important text in 11.1 yet again; 'Neither by nature nor contrary to it do excellences arise in us; rather we are adapted by nature to receive them, and are made perfect by habit.' suggested by 'in a sense' in (x), that God is in us (ix-x), and yet that he is quite different from the intellectual capacity for knowledge (xii).

What is not clear is how exactly God is a starting point of thought.

To understand Aristotle's position, we will have to look ahead to the conclusions of chapter 5 concerning the De Anima and Metaphysics

Lambda which I briefly summarise here: God or Active Intellect - as

Aristotle tells us in De Anima III.4&5 - whose activity is one of pure unchanging awareness (or, as Aristotle describes it in Metaphysics

Lambda 9 (1074b35), 'Thinking is a thinking of Thinking'), is the source of the power of perception and intellection in us while itself remaining unaffected and unchanging. This can be better understood in terms of the light analogy that Aristotle uses in De Anima 111.5 (430a14-19), which I think has often been misunderstood. Aristotle compares the unchanging

Active Intellect to Light, which makes sight possible. Yet light itself, as

De Animn 11.7 (418b13-19)tells us, is the condition of the medium between subject and object that allows for sight. Thus what is visible in light is colour (419a6), which when actualised, is capable of setting in motion that which is actually transparent (i.e., the illuminated medium), which in turn moves the eye with which it is continuous (419a6-14). In this scenario, light itself is mutable, so why would Aristotle say that the

Active Intellect is unchanging? Because, I suggest, Aristotle is making a distinction between light as a condition of the transparent medium that is only possible in the presence of a source of light. Thus, whiIe the Active Intellect is the source of the mutable consciousness in us, it is itself unchanged (as the source of light), though it allows for the possibility of intellection and perception in us (in terms of the analogy, the lit medium).

This, then, is how we are to understand Aristotle's cryptic remarks in EE

VII.14 that God is the starting point of reason.

It might be objected that even if the above reading is true, the

Active Intellect is not necessarily Aristotle's Unmoved Mover or God. But

I think they are the same for at least three reasons: (a) Because it explains how God is intimately connected to the world by being the source not only of perception and thought in all sentient beings, but also the source and object of the desire that ultimately drives them. Aristotle tells us as much as far as humans are concerned in EE VII. 14 1248a25, as we saw above.

(b) God as the activity of pure consciousness makes sense of Thought thinking itself in a way that avoids accusations that he is a heavenly

Narcissus in a permanent posture of self-admiration (Norman 1979 p.93).

(c) Such a reading explains Aristotle's hesitation in EE VII.14 1248a26

((x) in the quote above) that there is 'in a sense' a divine element in us.

For we are not divine though it is the divine that makes possible the activity of passive nous. Note also that this equation is not without historical precedent and has such august supporters as Alexander of

Aphrodisias.

Now if we can see the discussion in the EE in terms of this brief synopsis, we can understand what it means to contemplate God. For when the passive intellect comes to contemplate the Active Intellect or God, it

comes as close to being divine as possible, since Aristotle holds that in

thinking, that which thinks (the passive intellect) and that which is

thought (e.g., chair) are the same essentially though not always

substantially (since in thinking the chair we don't become identical to the substantial chair, just with its essence). But when we contemplate God - whose substance is not distinct from his essence - then we become identical to him and are in this sense divine. 46

It is also possible to see from the above explanation how the non- philosophical man can be a contemplator; for God's activity is one of suprarational consciousness and not some philosophical act of intuition of the principles of the world. And human contemplation at the highest level is Godlike in that it is of God, and resembles, and even becomes, one with

God's activity. God's activity in turn is understood to be essentially connected to our nature and that which makes human thought and contemplation possible in the first place.

To show that this overall position is maintained in the controversial text of EE VII. 15 1249221-b23, I present the text in full:

(1) But since the doctor has a standard by reference to which he distinguishes what is healthy for the body from what is not, (2) and with reference to which each thing up to a certain point ought to be done and is healthy, (3) while if Iess or more is done health is the result no longer, (4) so in regard to actions and choice of what is naturally good but not praiseworthy, (5) the good man should have a standard both of disposition and of choice and avoidance with regard to

46 I defend my view in detail in chapter 5. excess or deficiency of wealth and good fortune, the standard being-as above said-as reason directs; (6)this corresponds to saying in regard to diet that the standard should be as medical science and its reason direct. (7) But this, though true, is not illuminating. (8) One must, then, here as elsewhere, live with reference to the ruling principle and with reference to the state" and the activity, (9) as the slave must live in reference to that of the master, (10) and each of us by the rule proper to him. (I I) And since man is by nature composed of a mling and a subject part, (12) each of us should live according to the governing element in himself--( 13) but this is ambiguous, for medical science governs in one sense, health in another, the former existing for the latter. (14) And so too it is for the theoretic faculty; (15) for God is not an imperative ruler, but is the end with a view to which wisdom (phronesis) issues its commands (17) (the word 'end' is ambiguous, and has been distinguished elsewhere), (18) for God needs nothing. ( 19) What choice, then, or possession of the natural goods-whether bodily goods, wealth, friends, or other things-wilI most produce the contemplation of God, that choice or possession of natural goods is best; this is the noblest standard, (20) but any that through deficiency or excess hinders one from the contemplation and service of God is bad; (21) this a man possesses in his soul, and this is the best standard for the soul-to perceive the irrational part of the soul, as such, as little as possible.

It is not illuminating to say that the standard of action is as reason directs, just as it isn't to say that we should eat what and as much as

medical science prescribes (1-7). Aristotle explains further by saying that man, who consists of a ruling part (reason) and a ruled part (passions) should live in accordance with the part that governs, just as a slave should live in reference to his master's life and activity (8-12). But Aristotle has still not told us anything more than he has said in 1-7. So he further develops the health analogy and says that just as health is the standard by which medical science determines the diet for the body, practical wisdom

(phronesis) regulates the pursuit of external goods in terms of allowing

47 Translating 'hexis' as 'state' as opposed to 'formed habit' in the Revised

Oxford Translation. for the possibility of contemplation (13-14), in a way that I have

explained already in the previous section. 4s

48 Is the faculty of phrongsis here the same as the one that Aristotle calls the

practical intellect in NE VI. 1, and therefore different from the theoretical

faculty? I think that practical and theoretical activities are different applications of the passive nous of De Anirna 111.4 and 5, and will discuss my reasons for this in chapter 4. But some scholars think that 'phron5sis' in the EE includes both practical and philosophical wisdom (Jaeger 1948; Rowe 1971 pp.

64-68) and others (e.g., Cooper 1975 pp. 72-73 note 9) think it means simply practical wisdom. My own position is that 'phrontTsis' does primarily mean practical wisdom and does not include sophia in its domain in the EE. But this of course does not mean that the man who is practically wise cannot be a contemplator without having philosophical knowledge, as I have been arguing all along. This has the advantage - which Cooper's reading does not have - of explaining how Aristotle can discuss contemplation in terms of phroneSis and not sophia in (15) above, and at the same time hold that 'phroneSis' consistently means practical wisdom in the earlier parts of the EE. Rowe, on the other hand, thinks that in the earlier parts of the EE, philosophical wisdom does not constitute a difference in thinking from practical wisdom but a difference in end, and that Aristotle wants to substitute practical thought for speculation in the combination of the three candidates of doxa for the life of happiness (pleasure, virtue and wisdom) that he presents. The problem with this reading, as Rowe himself admits, is that it is odd to see the philosophical aspect taken up again in VII.15 in terms of the contemplation of God, which This much is straightforward and uncontroversial. What follows is

problematic, for does 'God' in (15) mean the same thing as the theoretic

faculty in (14) (Dirlmeier as noted by Woods 1982 p. 193)' or is Aristotle

simply referring in (15) to the object of the theoretical activity of (1)

(Rowe 1971 pp. 68ff and Verdenius 1971)? The Greek is ambiguous and the Oxford translation intentionally reflects this ambiguity, as does

Woods' rendition of it. I think both these positions are partially right, for while the theoretic faculty is distinct from God and comes to contemplate

God, it does so only because God makes such activity possible, as we have seen EE VII.14 1248a26-28 suggests. Otherwise it would be difficult to make sense of (14)-(15). For if we simply took Dirlmeier's position that God is the theoretical intellect, it would be hard to understand the claim in (18) that God, if he is the same as human reason, needs nothing

(cf. Woods 1982 p. 198). Similarly, if we take Rowe's claim as the right one, it would be puzzling to see why Aristotle switches from talk about the theoretic faculty to that of God in (14)-(15) if he simply meant 'the contemplation of God.' All Aristotle would have had to do in that case is speak in terms of the activity of theoretic nous as being of God. Reading

leads him to think that the EE is incomplete. But if 'phroneSis' means what I suggest, then we can agree that Aristotle uses it predominantly to mean

'practical wisdom' in the earlier parts of the EE without assuming that there is an inconsistency or omission in VII.15 when Aristotle discusses the contemplation of God. it in the way I suggest makes clear why Aristotle switches from

'theoretical nous' to 'God,' and also makes the text consistent with EE

VII. 14 1248a26 ((ix)-(xi) above) where Aristotle tells us that God is in

some sense in us but yet is distinct from our noetic capacity.

Further confirmation that there is a strong connection between

contemplation and complete practical virtue, a connection, which as I said

at the beginning of this section, NE VII.12 1152b33-1153a7 suggests. For

contemplation is simply the ascendance of the divine within us when our

animal nature is not defective but is, in effect, in a settled state, a state -

as we have seen above - that is brought about by virtue (or by our

functioning well). This is why Aristotle thinks that the contemplation of

God requires us '...to perceive as little of the irrational part of the soul as

possible.' (1 124b20-22) Now if we see God as someone who simply "tops off" Aristotle's philosophical system, then it would seem reasonable that only a philosophical individual who, making way through difficult theoretical terrain, can ascend to such heights. Though, as we shall see

(chapters 4 and S), philosophy is one way of attaining the6ria, it is clear that it isn't the only way. While it is true that the NE, especially Books VI and X, does discuss the6ria in a philosophical context (cf. chapter 6), the

EE does not. EE VI1.15 - where Aristotle discusses the contemplation of

God - begins with a discussion of nobility-and-goodness and therefore of the practically good man. For nobility-and-goodness is the crowning excellence of virtue as it is the virtue that arises out of the combination of all the other excellences (1248b7-16). More to the point, it is for the

practically good man (1249a25) that Aristotle sets the standard to be the

contemplation of God; a standard, we may note, for practical and not

philosophical activity. Thus, just as sight results when the optical

processes are functioning well, contemplation ensues when we as humans

are functioning well or acting in accordance with practical virtue.

The fact that Aristotle discusses contemplation in the EE in terms

of the practically good man and in the NE in terms of the philosopher

might suggest that the latter contains an older, more Platonic doctrine

(Jaeger 1948)- though the reverse too might be held (Lear 1988). Thus the

EE may be taken as a later doctrine because it is a return to the Platonic

roost by a more mature and less rebellious Aristotle, whereas the NE is

prior because of exactly the opposite reasons. Alternatively, one could

think of them as serving different but compatible functions, which is the

view that I take now. But, to take this view, I have to show that the EE

VII. 15 and the NE X hold the same conceptions of happiness, a task I take

up here. (I have already shown in chapter 2 why I think that the earlier

parts of EE and the NE are consistent in terms of the 'teleia argument.')

It seems to me that Aristotle's position in EE VII.15 is explicitly exclusive, just as it is in NE X. Aristotle tells us in VII.15 that kalokagathia is complete virtue in that to possess it, one must possess all the other virtues (1248b8-13). The context makes it quite clear that

Aristotle is talking here of the practical virtues (1248b21ff). Kalokagathia is contrasted with civic virtue in 1248b154249a16, and without going into the details, Aristotle's conclusion is that it is only for the kalos kagathos that virtue as well as the external goods are kalon or noble, whereas for the man of civic virtue, practically virtuous actions are merely good since he undertakes them for the sake of the external goods which are good but not noble. Nowhere in all of this does Aristotle tell us that the activities of complete practical virtue are the activities of eudairnonia. What he does tell us, as we see above in (19)-(21), is that contemplation of God is the ultimate criterion for the pursuit of external goods as well as for virtuous action. I have suggested in section 4 that by this statement we are not to take Aristotle to mean that the motive of moral agents in determining individual instances of right action is not the furtherance of the&-i~,as such action would not be virtuous, since virtue requires that the action be undertaken for its own sake. Kenny (1978 p.

206) and Cooper (I975 pp. 141-143) do think it possible for action to be pursued for its own sake and yet be done with an eye to furthering the possibility of thecrin. Hence Cooper says that while moral considerations determine when moral action is required, they don't determine to what extent one should act. Certainly we may help friends, but not to the extent that we abandon our own concerns wholesale; "any choice within the range specified by moral considerations will be morally good, and other considerations, such as one's own convenience, must motivate the particular choice one makes." And that the correct principle to use in such cases would be the furtherance of one's own contemplation (141). It is hard to see how such actions as Cooper describes would truly be noble.

For, as I have explained in sections 1 and 2, acting nobly sometimes is detrimental to one's well being and continued existence and therefore difficult to construe in terms of the furtherance of one's contemplation. (I take this theme up further in chapter 4.) So the most reasonable way to understand this text is to see that even if the motive for undertaking practically virtuous action is not subsidiary to any other motive, practical excellence as embodied in the life of the kalos kagarhos itself is ultimately secondary in worth to the activity of thecrria that it helps bring about (see chapter 2).

What then, it may be asked, is it about virtuous action that ultimately generates the contemplation of God? Part of the answer we have already seen is in terms of the internal equilibrium that virtuous energeiai produce that allows us to be contemplators. Additionally, we have seen that for Aristotle, God is not someone external to us and is essentially connected to our nature as the cause of our consciousness. The remaining component comes, I suggest, in terms of how the kalon as the end of action is related to the kalon conceived as God. 49 For kalon actions

49 Cf. Metaphysics Lambda 7 (1072b10-1 I), where Aristotle tells us that the

Unmoved Mover, who produces the motions of the first heaven, necessarily exists "...and in so far as it is necessary, it is kalon, and in this sense, a first principle (arche')."

139 are the manifestation of the divine Kalon in the worid because noble

actions are instantiations of goodness and are energeiai - perfect, rational

and complete ends in themselves - and therefore conform to the

intelligible structure of the world of which God as the Good is the

efficient, formal and final cause. More importantly for our purposes, in a

life of virtue, where noble actions are undertaken as a matter of course,

God as first cause is himself gradually revealed to us, just as in the

process of learning, the universal is acquired after repeated experience of

its particular instantiations (An. Po. 11-19 100a3-b5). Consequently, to use

Aristotle's own example in this context, "...as in a battle when a rout

occurs, if one man makes a stand another does and then another, until a

position of unitys0 is reached." (l00a12-13)'l Thus the kalon is the

'O 'O Following Tredennick in Aristotle 1960, I substitute archen for afkEn in the

Oxford translation.

51 Digby (1980 pp. 195-197) thinks that once an individual has become a contemplator of the formal, final and efficient cause of the world, then the actions that flow from such an individual 'will automatically cohere with the universe as an intelligibly functioning whole.' I agree with him substantially with some qualifications: first, that in order to become a contemplator, one has first to be a good man, and as I show above, by repeatedly doing good acts, the structural underpinnings of the world are revealed inductively. Once an individual has become a contemplator though, I do agree that his actions would proximate final cause of action, or of that for the sake of which actions are undertaken - remember that the kalon is the end of all virtuous action and therefore not only a formal but a final cause - but also the unmoved, existent Kalon, God, towards which all actions inevitably move us?'

Having considered the political life and its relation to the6ria, it is time to consider the philosopher's life. I will spend chapter 4 on showing not only how Aristotle's philosopher in fact is practically virtuous, but how in fact it is necessary for him to be so in order to be a contemplator.

In chapter 5, I discuss the nature of divinity, its relation to the world and to human beings, as well as the implications this has for philosophical endeavor and contemplation.

be more spontaneously virtuous than the good man who is not yet a contemplator.

5' Gauthier (1967 pp. 19-20) suggests this position when he says that for

Aristotle, "...the same subject is active in both [intellectual and practical] acts, and this subject is the intellect. As an act of intellect, the act of virtue perfects the intellect; and as an act of intellect also, the act of vice degrades the intellect. In degrading the intellect, vice destroys contemplation, and in perfecting the intellect, virtue prepares for its flowering [in contemplation]." Chapter 4

On the Impossibility of an Immoral Contemplator in

Aristotle's Ethics

So far then we have seen how the life of the good non-philosophical individual culminates in contemplation. I argued that not only does practical virtue provide the internal harmony necessary for contemplation, but also the materials of the6ria in terms of how the kalon as the end of action is related to the final Kalon or God. In other words, practical virtue

- on my reading - is necessary and sufficient for the6ria. But is it necessary for the philosophical life? The internal harmony requirement of contemplation I discussed in the previous chapter suggests that practical virtue is indeed necessary for contemplation. Yet some readers of

Aristotle think even an immoral life spent in philosophical activity can culminate in thecria. Hence Cooper thinks Aristotle in X "...says only that the theorizer may perform various virtuous actions - that insofar as he remains involved with other people he may conform his conduct to the requirements of the virtues. I But there is a large difference between this

I It is hard to see how Aristotle is talking here of someone going through the motions of virtuous activity, not for the sake of virtue but for other extraneous and being a virtuous person. For as Aristotle is at pains to argue, to be

virtuous one must not only do what the virtues require, but also choose

these actions for their own sakes and as the expression of a fixed and

unalterable character." (Cooper 1975 p. 164) Thus such a person does

everything to make himself as immortal as possible, as Aristotle enjoins

in Book X, thereby acting for the sake of the6rria and not for the sake of

the action itself as virtue requires of us in the rest of the Erhics (Cooper

1975 p. 163).'

reasons, as in the case of Kant's shopkeeper who does not cheat a child from

fear of sullying his reputation and hence from ruining his business. I say this

given that Aristotle is talking here in the context of how the life of practical

virtue is one secondary happiness and therefore of the practically virtuous man.

In any case, Cooper withdraws this aspect of his position in his later work

(1987 p. 208 and note 16 on pp. 215-16), though he doesn't discuss the

possibility of someone who could pursue a life of evil and yet be a

contemplator.

Similarly, Heinaman (1993 pp. 55-6) thinks that the good man will not

act viciously or refrain from acting virtuously in order to contemplate for to do

so would be evil and to contemplate at the expense of virtue cannot possibly qualify such activity as eudaimonic. Both these positions are problematic as

wilI become clear in what follows.

'See also Iaeger 1962 p. 240 who doesn't think there is a strong connection

between contemplation and ethical activity For he says "Thus Aristotle [in the

NE] tries to understand the fact that unphilosophical morality exists by

143 The implication, of course, is that such an individual acts virtuously only insofar as such activity promotes thecria, but not ~therwise.~Hence

Ackrill (1980 p. 32) suggests that "It may seem that one could say: maximize the6ria and for the rest act well; ...[ but then]-..the implication of ...[this] is that one should do anything however seemingly monstrous if doing it has the slightest tendency to promote theiiria ..." Now Ackrill - for reasons we need not go into here - does not endorse this view, but does think, as do Cooper and Adkins, that it is possible for one to be an immoral contemplator because, in Ackrill's words, Aristotle "...signally fails to attempt an answer to the question how the6ria and virtuous action ...combine in the best human life." (p. 32) It is because of this that

reference to the autonomous conscience and its inward standard. Only at the end does he add the contemplative life to this picture, and even then he does not make moral virtue completely dependant on it."

3 Adkins (1978 p. 298) puts it a Little differently when he asks "...whether an

Aristotelian theoretikos, while actually engaged in theoria, can be offered any sufficing reason for interrupting his contemplation in order to perform a moral or political action." His conclusion is that given that the activity of theoria is superhuman and divine, nothing in the text suggests that it can be unjust to activate theoria at any time, even if a person has pressing moral obligations at that time (p. 307). Others who hold similar positions are Hardie (1965 p. 320),

Keyt (1983 p. 368), Roche (1988 p. 176) and Lear (I988 pp. 313-16). they feel Aristotle's position in X is inconsistent with the rest of the

~thics.~

We have already seen that there is a connection between practical virtue and contemplation in the life of a non-philosopher and that acting for the sake of the action itself is not incompatible with ultimately acting for the sake of thecria (cf. chapter 3 section 4). But if Ackrill is right, then there does not seem to be a similarly strong connection between moral activity and the5ria in the life of a would-be philosophical contemplator, whose contemplative activity is an actualization of sophia, or philosophical wisdom, and does not seem to have any specifically moral connotations or connections. This is obviously problematic for the exclusive reading, for if happiness is the activity of contemplation, then

4 Kraut thinks the only way Cooper (and though he doesn't say this, the same holds for Ackrill as well) can hold that the philosopher can be immoral is because he assumes that Book X is inconsistent with the rest of the NE, and that if one didn't make this assumption, then we would not have the problem of the immoral contemplator (1989 pp. 22-3). Kraut does suggest that being virtuous means that one will not be distracted by bodily pleasures for instance and this allows for the maximizing of contemplation (pp. 178-9). But there are deeper reasons than the pragmatic one that Kraut offers for why only the virtuous individual can be a contemplator that also explain why the appetitive cannot be contemplators, which is the real problem that Ackrill and Cooper are referring to, and which is the main concern of this chapter. there is the possibility of someone being happy and immoral at the same time, an eventuality that Aristotle would surely not want to allow.

It is not my intention here to examine the meaning of theeria - though I have suggested what I think it means in chapter 3 and will investigate it in greater detail in chapters 5 and 6. What I want to do here is to show that for Aristotle it is simply not possible to be an immoral contemplator. Daniel Devereux (198 1 pp. 256-57) suggests that for

Aristotle, the essence of a thing x is that which explains why a thing has various necessary properties where the essence does not necessarily entail these properties; e.g., the human essence is rational but this does not entail that we have biological capacities even though these are necessary for our existence. The human eudaimonia of contemplation is one such essence which does not explicitly entail all its necessary attributes (like practical virtue) though it does include them implicitly (cf. Ericksen 1976 pp. 79-80 and Curzer 1991 for a similar thesis). My task here then, is to make what is implicit explicit; that is, I propose to try and show how in fact practical virtue is a necessary condition for the~ria.'It is true that

Hence, as Curzer (1991 p. 62) says, "Almost all of Aristotle's contemporaries believe that (1) inner peace is the state of mind most conducive to contemplation, (2) the moral virtues are the character traits most conducive to inner peace. We as post-romantics, may find both of these theses controversial and expect Aristotle to defend them if he holds them. But Aristotle probably my view here is intimately connected with my view on the nature of thecTria, so in a sense, this brief chapter is a prologue to what I say in chapters 5 and 6.

Suppose we take the example of Stuart, a tenure track professor in philosophy at a small university somewhere in North America. Suppose also that Stuart loves doing his research in Aristotelian metaphysics but despises teaching. His dislike for teaching is in fact reflected in his teaching evaluations which are poor. Nor is he the type of person who readily inspires the trust of graduate students as a thesis advisor, and has in fact lost the few students he has had in the past to other faculty. His popularity among other faculty is pretty low and he knows that even though he publishes regularly, his chances of getting tenure are slim.

Were he not to get tenure, he knows how difficult it would be to get a job at another university, given the budgetary constraints and the surplus of philosophers on the market. Without an academic job he would be forced to find work in the corporate world and this would mean the end of his research.

found them obvious and not in need of defense ..." a defense that I propose to take up here. Now at this point, Stuart's wealthy father, with whom Stuart has had recent disagreements, is suddenly taken seriously ill. On his deathbed, he tells Stuart that he has had a change of heart and he would like to leave all his money, equally divided, to his large extended family, as opposed to leaving it all to Stuart, which was his original intention and is in fact how things stand in his most recent will. Stuart promises to do the needful and obey his father's wishes, soon after which his father dies. Stuart knows that if he does not say anything, then even if he loses his job, he would be in a position to continue doing his research without having to worry about his teaching or being responsible for anything to anyone. It is of course in situations like this that Cooper and Ackrill's questions are the most telling, for what in fact would stop Stuart from taking the money, doing philosophy and ultimately becoming a contemplator as opposed to giving it away and risking the possibility of not having the leisure to do philosophy again? If thecria is a transcendent and divine good, it becomes difficult to see why we wouIdn't go to any lengths to attain it. Herein then lies the nub of our problem. I suggest that Aristotle would reject the viabiIity of immoral actions leading to thecria and therefore the possibility of an immoral contemplator, but in order to see why I think so, we will have to examine at length Aristotle's conceptions of self and self- friendship.

Aristotle thinks that there are three types of friends hip corresponding to the three basic objects of desire: those of pleasure, utility and goodness, where in each type, there is a reciprocated and recognized goodwill (VIII.2 1155b17-1156a5). Friendships of pleasure and utility are those such as we form with other members of a sports team and with business partners. Such relations are limited because they are based on pleasure or utility and end when their purpose is served (1 156a6-

21). True friendship on the other hand, is the relation between good people and is based not on the incidental qualities of the friends, bur on their true nature or character. In other words, such relations are based on goodness and the friends love each other as good. And even though such friends are pleasant and useful to each other, their friendships are not based on the notions of pleasure and utility (1 156b8-16).

But in IX.4 (1 166alff) Aristotle makes an interesting claim: he says that one's friendly relations with others are based on one's relations to oneself, which suggests that self-friendship is prior to other-friendship

(cf. Kraut 1989 pp. 132-3). To make his point, Aristotle presents five characteristics of friendship to others and then shows how these apply to a man's relations to himselff

6 It would seem that at least some of the five characteristics of friendship are based on common opinion, for Aristotle begins their presentation with "For men think that a friend is one who ..." (I 166a3) In what follows, however, it becomes clear that he accepts all of them as marks of friendship, since he spends the rest of the chapter in explaining, why on his reading, such characteristics apply to the good man's relations to himself. 1. A friend wishes the good or that which seems good for the sake of his

friend. (Aristotle does not limit the wishing to true goodness, but also

includes the apparent good, and this suggests that the less-than-good -

who don't always know what the good is - can wish what they

conceive to be the good for their friend's sakem7)

2. A friend wishes one's friend to exist and live for his own sake. (This

second characteristic is presented as the equivalent of (1) above. since

it is separated from (1) in the text by an 'or'. Most scholars treat (2)

as a separate characteristic, not only because it seems to have different

connotations from (1)' but because Aristotle himself does so in what

follows.)

3. A friend is one who lives with his friend.

4. A friend has the same tastes as his friend.

5. A friend grieves and rejoices with his friend.

Then we are told (1 l66alO- 13) that these characteristics apply to all men's relations to themselves insofar as they are good, and most of all to a good man's relations to himself 'in so far as he is two or more'

(1 166a36), for

7 This supports Cooper's (1980) interesting and provocative thesis that

Aristotle "...does not maintain that friendships of the derivative kinds [i-e., those of pleasure and utility] are wholly self-centered; pleasure- and advantage- friendships are instead a complex and subtle mixture of self-seeking and unself- interested well-wishing and well-doing." (p. 305. See pp. 301-3 13 for details.)

150 The good man wishes for himself that which is good or seems so,

and does is for his own sake, or for the sake of the intellectual

element (dianoEtikou) in him, which is most thought to be the

essence of man (1 166a14-17).

He wishes himself to exist and live, especially his rational part

(phronei), for existence is a good and everybody wishes themselves

well, especially of the intellectual element (nooun), because, as we

are told in (I), this constitutes the essence of man (1 166a18-24).

He lives with himself more than with anyone else and wishes to do

so since his memories of the past and his hopes for the future are

pleasant and good ( 1 166a24-27).

His opinions are harmonious and he desires the same things with all

his soul (1 166a12-13).

He grieves and rejoices with himself the most too since the same

things are pleasant and painful at all times, and has no regrets

( 1 166a27-29).

I-V seems reasonable if we grant that 1-5 indeed constitute the characteristics of friendships with others, though Aristotle makes two rather important assumptions that need to be examined before we go any further: first, the assumption that the soul is made up of parts on the basis of which he can then say that self-friendship is the harmonious relation of these parts. Aristotle doesn't want to pursue the truth of the assumption here (1 166a34-35), but it needs to be tracked to see the full validity of his position. Second, his emphatic statement in I and I1 that nous is the

essence of man.8 This is repeated in IX.8 and X.7-8 but is found nowhere

' There is a controversy - based on a distinction made in VI.2 - as to whether

'nous' here refers to the practical intellect, or the intellect in general, which

would then also incIude a reference to the theoretical intellect. Stern-Gillet

(1995 p. 26), Annas (1988 p. 3), Cooper (1975 pp. 168-177) and Kraut (1989

pp. 128-30) all think that 'nous' refers to the practical intellect since Aristotle

is here talking about virtue and ethical action in general. But I agree with Kahn

1981, (p. 30 note I; cf. aIso Whiting 1986 pp. 72-83) who foIlows Gauthier in

holding that this is reference to the intellect in general, primarily because the practical and theoretical intellects are different applications of a single principle (see also Wilkes 1980 who makes a similar suggestion though she doesn't think that it is Aristotle's position). Moreover, the fact that Aristotle uses the language of dianoia, phronZsis and nous in I and 11 suggests that he is not talking here of a single aspect of intellect, but of intelligence in general.

The fact that Aristotle uses the same language to refer to our essence in what is clearly a theoretical (but more precisely, as I will show in chapter 6, the intuitive) application of nous in X.7-8, suggests not, as many have thought, that he changes his mind about the nature of man, but that he is referring to the same general use of the term nous. This has the advantage of rendering him consistent in his emphasis on nous being the essence of man as opposed to being contradictory, for otherwise the 1X.4 reference would be to the practical intetlect as essentially being man, and the X7-8 references would be to the else in the corpus. In fact both these assumptions are closely related and they will therefore be examined together.

In NE I. 13 Aristotle discusses the nature of the soul for the benefit of the student of politics, for if happiness is an activity of the soul in accordance with complete excellence, the politician must have some conception of the soul's nature if he is to make his fellow citizens happy

(1 102a5-9). Aristotle suggests that the soul is made up of two broad aspects, the rational and the irrational (1 102a27-28). Of the irrational, the vegetative aspect is responsible for nutrition and growth and is common to all living things. This part of the soul is completely non-rational

(1 102a33-b 12). But there is also another aspect of the irrational, that which by itself is unable to generate rational argument but yet is capable of following reason or fighting it. Thus when it disobeys reason we have

theoretical intellect as being man's true nature. More on this later in this chapter.

Besides this, in Aristotle's considered treatment of nous in De Anima 111, there is no such distinction made between the practical and theoretical intellect suggesting that they must after all, be the different applications of the same faculty. It could be objected that the De Anima is a later text than the NE and that therefore Aristotle held a different position on the nature of the soul in the

NE. But I think that the two are consistent with each other and I outline some of my reasons in what follows below. For a thorough treatment of this matter, see Hardie 1980 chapter 5 especially p. 70ff. the incontinence, when it obeys reason reluctantly we have continence,

whereas in the case of the virtuous it '...is still more obedient ...[ and]

speaks on all matters with the same voice as reason.' (1 102b13-28)

Some have objected that this discussion of the soul is very Platonic

and does not seem consistent with Aristotte's considered position in the

De Anima. I think Aristotle is well aware of this for he tells us that he is

working with a conception here that is adequate for our purposes and that

further precision in these matters is this context is irrelevant (1 102a22-

25). In fact his reluctance to commit himself to the theory that the soul has parts (1 102a29-32) - and hence my use of the term 'aspects' - is reminiscent of a similar reluctance in the De Anima (433al Iff), suggesting that the ideas of the latter were not absent from his mind when he was writing the former. In any case, Aristotle's point in general seems to be this: we don't have to go into technical discussions to see that the human psuchB - or to use the English derivative, psyche - has rational and irrational aspects, and that one aspect of the irrational is capable of heeding the voice of reason while the other is not but is in fact completely non-rational.

The second assumption - that nous is essentially the man - is again discussed only indirectly in IX.8 where Aristotle further explicates the nature of self-love. He says that self-love is used both as an appellation of reproach and praise. Thus a vicious man is called a self-lover, because all his acts are selfish (1 168a28-34), but if I-V above are true, then not only would it have to be the case that the good man is a self-lover, but that the

term is here used with approbation. Hence we have various proverbs that

say the same, e.g., 'charity begins at homeT and 'a single soul' (1 168a36-

Aristotle's solution is to point out that 'self' denotes different

things in these two cases. Where 'selfishT is meant, it is the appetitive

aspect that is gratified, for such people indulge all their desires for the

external goods (wealth, fame, fortune, bodily pleasures, etc.), as these are

held to be of paramount importance in their lives. In this context, no one

would say that the person who gratifies the noetic element in himself is a

lover of self, since his concern is for the goods of the soul and not the external goods, for he pursues the noble in all his activities (1 168b12-28).

Yet in fact this man is most of all the lover of self, since:

(a) at all events he assigns to himself the things that are noblest and best, and gratifies the most authoritative element in himself and in dlthings obeys this; (b) and just as a city or any other systematic whole is most properly identified with the most authoritative (kuriktata element in it, so is a man; (c) and therefore the man who loves this and gratifies it is most of all a lover of self. (d) Besides, a man is said to have or not to have self-control according as his intellect (noun) has or has not control, on the assumption that this is the man himself; (e) and the things men have done from reason are thought most properIy their own acts and voluntary acts. (f) That this is the man himself, then, or is so more than anything else, is plain, and also the good man loves most this part of him. (g) Whence it follows that he is most truly a lover of self, of another type than that which is a matter of reproach.. . (1 l68b29- 1 l69a3)

A cursory reading of the above suggests that nous is in fact the self; hence (f) says that this more than anything else is the man, and (c) that gratifying nous is to gratify the true self. But that there is more to the self than just nous is clear from the city analogy in (b) and the reference to 155 self-control in (d), both of which plainly rely on Aristotle's provisional

theory of the soul presented in 1.13. For to say that the intellect is in control or that it is dominant (kurion) is to say that it has control over something; i-e., the appetitive element, which is also to say that the noetic element has been gratified. Hence in a temperate man the appetites

are not absent, but speak with the same voice as reason, as we saw above.

So the noetic element is not gratified in a vacuum; it is so when there is a certain relation between the different aspects of the soul, i-e., when action is based on rational wish (bouleSis) for the noble backed by appetite consonant with wish. Similarly, to say that the city is the ruler is to say that the city speaks with the same voice as the ruler, that there is a certain relation between the citizenry and the ruler, and not that we would have a ruler without the ruled. Finally, it is because the true self-lover, who gratifies the noetic element in himself, is a friend to himself only because he is two or more (1 166a36); this only reiterates the point that the self here is a relational self.

The selfish self-lover on the other hand, indulges the appetitive element and therefore the relations of the different aspects of the soul are reversed; the naturally dominant noetic element is subordinated to the appetitive, and with this comes an unrestrained desire for things that gratify the appetite; wealth, power, pleasure, etc. Here too it isn't simply the case that the appetitive element is the self, for such an individual also uses his reason for the satisfaction of his appetites, as we are told the clever but wicked man does in VI.9 (1 142b18ff). But some have thought

that for Aristotle selfhood is available only to the virtuous and not to the

vicious. Hence Stern-Gillet (1995 pp. 26-27) says:

.. .Aristotle views psychic unity as the result of a slow process of integration which is broadly co-extensive with the acquisition of moral virtue. PracticaI reason, in his outlook, constitutes the hub around which the self is formed, since it alone can perfect the integration of the various psychic elements into a whole. Whenever it fails to do so, either through akrasia or vice, the individual remains unfree, a mere bunch of unstable elements and discordant parts.

This seems to me to be wrong for there is obvious textual evidence

against it. Thus in (g) above we are told that the true lover of self is one

whose noetic element is dominant, and of another type [of self-lover] than

that which is a matter of reproach. Aristotle does think that the appetitive

is a self-lover, but of a different type, which means that he has to have a

self in order to be a self-lover. The strongest point that Stern-Gillet makes

is that the vicious man is unstable - for reasons that we will examine

presently - and therefore hardly a contender for selfhood, for selfhood entails a continuity and stability that is absent in the appetitive. But I

think Aristotle's point is that regardless of the internal fraction in such

people, one can still identify them as appetitive, selfish, base and

therefore having an overarching identity or self.

Thus, two conceptions of self are available to us in IX: the rational one where the noetic eIement predominates in its relation to the appetitive, and the appetitive conception where the passional dominates the rational. This is not to say that there are two distinct selves in man (as Ross 1953 p. 224 thinks), but rather two basic configurations of the

psyche which are very closely related to one's identity. 9 For who I am and

what I'm all about can be gleaned from my answer to the question 'What

is my aim in life?' If, for instance, I were to say that my priority is to

make a name for myself as well as a fortune regardless of anything else,

then for Aristotle this not only says something about the state of my soul,

but also what makes me what I am and gives me my identity.

We are now in a position to begin to answer our main concerns

here, i.e., why the immoral man cannot be a contemplator. And the first

part of the answer is that he simply isn't interested in becoming one. He

is by nature far more interested in indulging his baser appetites as we

have seen above.1° Even if we have a philosophically minded but wicked

individual such as Stuart could possibly be, Aristotle thinks he wouldn't be interested in becoming a contemplator though he might be interested in sophia for reasons of fame or gain.

9 I say two basic configurations because the incontinent framework falls under the temperate and the continent under the temperate.

10 Some might think that I am being hasty when I equate the appetitive with the vicious, but it is in fact Aristotle's position that being led by the desire for pleasure and the satisfaction of appetites that leads to all types of vice in general. Thus, for instance, at X.9 1180a9-12 he contrasts the good man who is motivated by the noble, with the bad man, who is driven by desire for pleasure and who can only be corrected by pain like a beast of burden. However, there might be a lingering suspicion that this seems too pat, that I might simply be making it a matter of definition by saying that the vicious man can never know what is to his real advantage. After all, because the6ria - conceived as the appropriate actualization of sophia or philosophical wisdom - itself is not a moral activity, nothing precludes the theoretical possibility even for the wicked to heed Aristotle's advice in the Ethics and make himself as immortal as possible, thereby taking the right kind of advantage of his philosophical knowledge.

So the second part of the answer is that even if he is interested in becoming a contemplator, the base man does not have the psychological capacity to do so. Let me explain. In Aristotle's discussion of why

'inferior people' can't have the attributes of self-friendship it becomes clear why such people cannot possibly be contemplators. For their inability to fulfill the characteristics of self-friendship also marks their inability to be contemplators. Thus, a) They are at variance with themselves, since they are primarily

attracted to the pleasant even though they might wish for something

else. In other words, the strength of their appetites overrides any other

concerns they might have (thereby failing condition 4 of self-

friendship) (1 166b8-11). b) Those who have done many vicious deeds shrink from themselves and

end their own lives (failing condition 2 of self-friendship) (1 166b11-

12). C) Such people find it hard to live with themselves, let alone be

contemplators, since they remember all the terrible things that they do

(thus failing condition 3 of self-friendship) (1 166b12-16).

d) Because they are at variance with themselves they don't love

themselves (failing condition 1 of friendship) (I 166b 16-17).

e) Since their souls are rent by faction, they don't even rejoice and grieve

with themselves for when one element is satisfied, the other is not and

vice versa (thus failing condition 5 of self-friendship) ( 1 166b 17-24).

Thus the main point here is that there is too much internal fraction

within an inferior man for him to be able to have the necessary powers of

concentration, or the real inclination to do anything else but indulge his

appetites." In response, one could say that this solution has several

I I Thus King 1994 pp. 22-23 who says "If we ... understand the reIationship of

the moral virtues to self-friendship, 1 believe we can aIso see their relation to

the intellectual virtues as mediated through self-friendship. The five traits of self-friendship bespeak a unity and harmony which provides a necessary condition for the capacity to undertake the Iife of thecria, or any other extremely demanding way of Iife." Though see Stern-Gillet 1995 pp. 83-84 who thinks seIf-friendship is a sine qua nun for the achievement of primary friendship and does not have anything to do with attaining theo'ria as it does in

Plato's Symposium. But I think what I say here in conjunction with what I say in chapter 3 where I explore the notion of internal harmony and its relation to contemplation shows otherwise. problems: first, that by 'inferior man' Aristotle doesn't mean the wicked

(though he does make this implicit equation at 1166b13 for instance) but the incontinent. For it is the incontinent who are rent by strife and all the afflictions that Aristotle describes. In fact the following text, which precedes the text of the above presented summary, confirms the suspicion:

(i) But the attributes named seem to belong even to the majority of men, poor creatures though they may be. (ii) Are we to say to them that in so far as they are satisfied with themselves and think they are good, they share in these attributes [of self friendship]? (iii) Certainly no one who is thoroughly bad and impious has these attributes, or even seems to do so. (iv) They hardly (schedon) belong even to inferior people; for they are at variance with themselves, and have appetites for some things and wishes for others. (v) This is true, for instance, of incontinent people. .. ( 1 16662-8)

It is clear that AristotIe wants to show that the vicious don't have these attributes of self-friendship in (iii), but seems somehow to slip into talk of how the incon~inentsdon't fulfill these attributes in (iv) and (v).

For clearly 'inferior people' in (iv) is different from 'bad and impious' in

(iii), as is evident by the use of 'schedon' - which is an adverbial modifier of degree - to contrast (iii) from (iv). This of course is confirmed when we are told in (v) that Aristotle is talking of the incontinent and not of the wicked in what follows."

" Hence I think that Whiting 1991 pp. 16-17 is wrong in supposing that

Aristotle is in fact talking about the vicious as opposed to the incontinent in this text, Whiting suggests that normally we think we love ourselves regardless of how bad we are but in truth when we see ourselves for what we are, then we go into states of depression and self-destructive behavior. But it is clear that

161 In fact, it could be further argued, it is quite possible to see how the

vicious could fulfill all the conditions of self-friendship and also be

contemplators. For

A. If the6ria is a divine pleasure as Aristotle suggests it is (e.g., X.8

1178b8-23), then even the appetitive can desire it with all aspects of

his soul; for after all, pleasure is his main motivation in life (condition

4) -

B. In such a man, the rational element is completely subordinated to the

appetitive which means that he has no regrets, for vice - as opposed to

incontinence - Aristotle tells us (VII.7 1150a16-22), is not conscious

of itself. Thus the truly wicked can be said to rejoice and grieve with

himself at all times (condition 5).

C. Because vice is unconscious of itself, the wicked have no difficulty in

living with themselves (condition 3).

D. Since the5ria is the highest good, the vicious not only wishes himself

what appears good to him, but that which is in fact good (condition 1).

the recognition that one is bad is possible only for the incontinent, even the strongly so, for true vice is, as we shall see in a moment, unconscious of itself

(cf. VII.7 1150a16-22). Thus Aristotle can say in what follows in the text that such a man's "...souI is rent by faction ... as if [vicious actions] were pulling them to pieces." (1 166b19-23) Another commentator who fails to see that

Aristotle is talking here of the weak willed and not the vicious is King 1994 p.

6ff. E. He therefore wishes to live, for existence is a good thing for him

(condition 2).

There are several responses to such a challenge: First, Aristotle is not being duplicitous when he shifts from talking of the vicious to the incontinent; his point is that most people are incontinent (in the broad senseI3) - in that they do the wrong sorts of things even though they know that they are wrong - as opposed to being truly vicious as characterized by A-E. Thus Aristotle is far more interested in accounting for the Stuarts of the world who might be tempted to do the wrong thing, and who are in fact far more common than those who would have no compunctions about wrong doing.

Second, it is hard to imagine a vicious individual successfully fulfilling the requirements of A-E, for such an individual is still appetitive and even though he sets himself the task of becoming a contemplator, his appetitive concerns constantly override his possible concern for thecria. Hence, unlike God who enjoys a single immobile and pleasurable activity of thecria, wicked men cannot for they are unstable

(VII. 14 1154b26-31).To wit, he too is fraught with internal conflict for

13 Aristotle restricts incontinence to bodily pleasures in his formal treatment in

VII.4, though it is clear that he thinks that we can have incontinence in other spheres too, for instance when we do wicked acts and know that they are wrong

(see for e.g., IX.4 1166blff). See also Hardie 1980 pp. 260-261 for a detailed defense of this position.

163 his appetites not only grow larger and larger, but are indeterminate as well, and he is prone to like one thing at one time and the contrary at another. Aristotle tells us as much in specific references to vicious as opposed to incontinent people in several places, e.g., 11.6 1006b29ff,

V11.12 1152b264153a7, IX.9 1170a23-24, IX. 12 1172a8-10. Let me explicate his point.

In his discussion of whether pleasure is a process or an activity,

Aristotle says

.. .one kind of good being activity and another being state, the processes that restore us to our natural state are only incidentaIly pleasant, for that matter the activity at work in the appetites for them is the activity of so much of our state and nature as has remained unimpaired; for there are actually pleasures that involve no pain or appetite (e-g., those of contemplation) the nature in such a case not being defective at all. That the others are incidental is indicated by the fact that men do not enjoy the same things when their nature is in its settled state as they do when it has been replenished, but in the former case they enjoy the things that are pleasant without qualification, in the latter the contraries of these as well; for then they enjoy even sharp and bitter things, none of which is pleasant either by nature or without qualification (VII. 12 1 l52b26- 1 153a7).I4

I have already discussed one aspect of this passage in chapter 3, namely the relation of pleasures associated with the restorative process and those associated with the activities of the completely restored state.

Here, I want to concentrate on the implication of Aristotle's point (also made elsewhere e-g., 1 154b 17-20) that pleasure is not a function of the restorative process (kingsis) but the activity (energeia) of the still healthy

"See also X.4 1 174b33-1 175a2 for a similar sort of statement. disposition he xi^).'^ If the disposition were completely destroyed, then not only is restoration impossible, but so also pleasure. 16

Suppose we continue to think about this in terms of the health analogy and the implications it has for the vicious. Thus drinking alcohol is pleasurable because a healthy liver is able to process the alcohol in the first place. We all know though that if we drink regularly, then it takes more and more alcohol to obtain the same level of inebriation, and this, according to Aristotle's suggestion, would be because our Livers are getting unhealthier since we drink everyday. Hence we need more alcohol to get the same effect, so to speak. In the case of the alcoholic, this is taken to the extreme, for unlike most of us, there are no prudential

' See Stewart 1892, v.2 p.230-232 and Owen 1971 for a detailed presentation and defense of this reading. l6 Hence Broadie 1991 pp. 339-40 says: "Although a creature in the natural course of its existence is subject to privations, and so to restorative processes, its nature, strictly speaking, is not the source of these imperfections. Nature is active essence, definable only in positive terms. A restored healthy physical condition is not a state of inertia but a basis for healthy activity ...Since the exercise of heaIth is nature at work, so, too, must the restoration process be.

Thus the restoration too expresses the positive nature; the lack which it also expresses is not the nature's lack (for nature is not characterized by lack) but its occasion for restorative functioning. [Also, the] restorative act is already an exercise of (not merely for) health, since recovery assumes that the diseased creature is healthy enough to recover." constraints in such a person and he needs more and more alcohol to satiate his needs to the point where his liver breaks down and he ends up killing himself. In the process of such a breakdown it is easy to see, as Irwin

(1988 pp. 379-80) points out, gratifying the appetites sometimes requires cruelty and dishonesty and sometimes honesty towards others to attain one's ends. Widening the point to include the appetitive person in general, we can see that not only are the desires for pleasure ultimately self- destructive, but that maintaining an appetitive lifestyle requires an increasing preoccupation with what satisfies such desires as his requirements grow larger and more indiscriminate. This of course leaves him not only with very little time for anything else including the concentrated pursuit of knowledge, but also explains why Aristotle thinks that such peopie are indeterminate (see also Stern-Gillet 1995 pp.85-96).

Third, in his explanation of why the bodily pleasures appear worthy of choice to most people (VIII.14 1154a26ff), Aristotle says that they appear so because they expel pain and are hence curative. But what is the source of pain? Aristotle thinks that pain is present when there is no pleasure; i.e., the neutral state as well as the state of pain are painful, and therefore pleasure is pursued to avoid either of these two scenarios. The ramifications for the appetitive are obvious, for in the process of indulging the appetites, as in the case of the alcoholic, the individual becomes less and less healthy, making his condition more and more painful. This of course results in a vicious circle for it makes him want to pursue pleasure more and more, making him even more unhealthy, and so

on. Ultimately then, not only is it the case that the wicked are

indeterminate but self-destructive as well, making it even more

implausible to see how such an individual could ever be a contemplator.

To recapitulate what we have seen so far then, incontinent people,

who in Aristotle's opinion constitute the majority of people, cannot be

contemplators because they are prone to internal fraction, for their

passions and wishes do not speak with one voice. So even if they have the

desire to become contemplators and even perhaps the knowledge, they

lack the necessary internal harmony to fulfill such desires. In the case of the vicious, appetitive concerns are too strong for any other state of affairs to gain predominance. Ultimately, not onIy does vice result in

increasing preoccupation with the satisfaction of the appetitive desires, but also in inherent indeterminacy and eventual self-destruction. It is only the virtuous who can become philosophical contemplators (or non- philosophical ones as we saw in chapter 3) for only they have the internal psychological capacity to do so.

Before I conclude, I would Like to reiterate the above by explicating it in terms of the problem of commensurability. According to this problem, first stated in Ackrill 1981 (p. 32), if the6ria is a divine activity, then it is incommensurable with other, more human activities of moral and political action. In other words, why would a possible contemplator waste his time acting in human ways when he can partake in the divine? The problem, so goes one possible story, becomes more acute in direct

proportion to the importance of thecria to happiness. So if thecria is a

part of happiness along with the practical virtues for instance (as in a

broad inclusive reading for example), then contemplative activity is

commensurable with the other activities for one would act virtuously

because it is in the interests of one's eudairnonia to do so; but if thecria

is all there is to happiness, then why would anyone bother to act

virtuously at all?

I have suggested that even though I support the exclusive reading of

the NE, it isn't the case that one can contemplate at the expense of the

more mundane ethical activities, or even that one can act immorally to

secure the Leisure necessary to become a contemplator. A virtuous man

acts virtuously because it is noble to do so, even if this results in his own

demise (IX.8 1169b17ff) and therefore abruptly terminates the possibility

of future contemplation and hence happiness. This is why Aristotle thinks

that even though good fortune is not all there is to happiness, it does play an important role in determining one's circumstances (I. i 0 1 10 1 a9- 11) and hence the possibility of a full or complete (teleios) life.'' Virtue in

17 The fact that according to Aristotle, a good man will sacrifice the possibility of future contemplation and hence happiness for the good of a friend seems to me to clearly show that Aristotle is not an egoist in even the enlightened sense

(e.g., 1169b17ff). The problem is that the way in which Aristotle talks about the noble in these contexts suggests that it is a prize of such magnitude that no

168 itself is thus its own compelling reason to act, and circumstances

permitting, this culminates in thecria in ways that have been outlined in

chapter 3 for the non-philosophical contemplator and will be outlined in

chapter 5 for the philosophical contemplator (cf. Lawrence 1993).18

matter what I do for a friend, the fact that by so doing I assign myself the

greater good or nobility, I always come out the winner. Thus the implicit

altruism in sacrificing one's life or good for the sake of a friend turns out to be

self-serving after all. Such an observation is recent (e-g., Annas 1977 and

Kahn 1981) and stems from the contemporary popularity of the inclusive

reading. For it is the inclusive reading that makes virtuous activity the most

important, or at least one of the most important, activities of man. But on the

exclusive reading, where happiness is the activity of contemplation, which, prima facie, also seems self-serving since it is ultimately concerned with the

individual's best interests (cf. Field as quoted in Hardie 1967 p. 31 1 and

Hardie's own arguments on pp. 3 12-20), the individual's self-sacrifice is not

the greatest good he can assign himself since he forgoes the possibility of

contemplation and hence happiness. Thus, in assigning himself the noble, the

good man does not always assign himseIf the greatest good, which means that

his actions are not ultimately self-serving. Since I am defending the exclusive

reading, this text doesn't seem so problematic after a11 and clearly shows that

Aristotle's theory is not egotistical.

I8 This is of course very similar to Plato's position on why a philosopher will

agree to rule even though, as Plato tells us, he would be much happier philosophizing on his own. It isn't that he agrees to rule to avoid the If what I say is true, then how can we account for Aristotle's statement in X.7 (1 177b1-14) that contemplation depends on leisure and freedom from practical concerns? For on my reading, the possible contemplator will never have the leisure to contemplate because his practical and political duties will always have overriding priority. I suggest that because contemplation is a product of long training - be it philosophical or simply ethicalfpolitical - in consequence it takes time to become a contemplator. That is, one is in a position to contemplate only towards the end of one's life at a time when in any case one's obligations to family and society are relatively minimal, when in fact one's needs are being taken care of by one's children, or when, as in an ideal state (cf.

Politics VII.9 1329a26-34), the older citizens, who are provided a rest from active service, are appointed - appropriately enough - as priests for the worship of the Gods. This is why Aristotle tells us that happiness requires a complete life, a life that is complete not only because it instantiates all the virtues, but also because such instantiation takes a full human life-span to complete.

destruction of the city which would in turn minimize the philosopher's ability to theorize, but rather because it is the kalon thing to do, and that he would therefore rule out of moral necessity for the sake of the city (cf. Republic 540d- e and White 1979 pp. 192-3). Further confirmation that it is only the good man who can be a contemplator and hence happy in the full sense is available if we consider the relation between Aristotle's statements in Books IX and X that nous is the man. We have seen that when Aristotle tells us that nous constitutes the essence of man in IX. 3 (1 L66a14-24). But, Aristotle explains a little later (IX. 11 1 168b29-1169a3), to say that nous is the man is like identifying the city with its most authoritative (kuriMat5) part, the ruler, which does not mean that the ruler is all there is to the city. Similarly, nous is the self when it has authority over the rest of the soui, and all the other aspects speak with the same voice as nous (1 102b13-28; 1166a36) and we have the true self-lover.lg When, on the other hand, the appetitive element is in command, we have reason subordinated to the appetites, and hence the kind of person we call a bad or selfish self-lover (1 168a28ff).

In Book X, Aristotle's statements on selfhood come towards the end of chapter 7 where he presents his arguments for why contemplation is the activity of eudaimonia. He says:

(1)But such a life [i.e., the life of contemplation] would be too high for man; (2) for it is not in so far as he is man that he will live so, but in so far as something divine is present in him; (3) and by so much as this is superior to our composite nature is its activity superior to that which is the exercise of the other [i-e.,

19 In addition to being a reference to nous as the highest aspect of man, this is also a reference to the highest kind of noetic activity, intuition, as opposed to epistGmt5or dianoia, as I will show in chapter 6. practical] kind of virtue. (4) If nous is divine, then, in comparison with man, the life according to it is divine in comparison with human life. (5) But we must not follow those who advise us, being men, to think of human things, and, being mortal, of mortal things, but must, so far as we can, make ourselves immortal, and strain every nerve to live in accordance with the best thing in us; (6) for even if it be small in bulk, much more does it in power and wonh surpass everything. (7) This would seem, too, to be each man himself, since it is the authoritative (kurian) and better part of him. (8) It would be strange, then, if he were to choose not the life of himself but that of something else. (9) And what we said before will apply now; ( LO) that which is proper to each thing is by nature best and most pleasant for each thing; (1 1) for man, therefore, the life according to nous is best and pleasantest, since nous more than anything else is man. (12) This life therefore is also the happiest.

Aristotle presents an objection to his position that happiness is in fact theGria in 1-4 when he says that if we can contemplate just Like the

Gods do, then it must be the case that it is possible only because we have something divine in us, which means that such activity is really not human but divine activity. The paradoxical implication of course is that such a life is divine not human. But how can we expect humans to lead divine and not human lives?

First, as I have suggested in chapter 3 - and will explain in greater detail in chapter 5 - norts though divine and Godlike, is not God.

Moreover, Aristotle specifically states this in X.8 (1 178b22ff emphasis added) when he says "...that [activity] which is most akin to this [i.e.,

God's activity] must be most of the nature of happiness." Thus, the activity of human nous is Godlike and therefore we should strain every nerve to make ourselves immortal as possible (5), for this in itself constitutes what it means to be human (7,8 and I I). Second, the life of nous that Aristotle is talking of here is not simply one of thecria and implies - if only as a necessary condition - the life of practical virtue.

For, the use of 'kurion' in 7 above is reminiscent of Aristotle's use of it in IX (1 168b29-1~69a3),*~where, as we have seen, it means that nous has authority over the rest of the soul, an authority that originates in virtue.

Thus while the Life of contemplation is the life of happiness, such a life is possible only when nous is in command, and nous is in command only in the case of a good man.

It is because contemplative activity presupposes virtue (in ways that

I have explained in chapters 3 and 4) that Aristotle tells us, right after the above passage and at the beginning of X.8, that the life of practical virtue is a life of secondary happiness and befits our human estate (1 178a9ff).

For by rendering the divine activity of contemplation human, Aristotle does not want to suggest that that is all there is to being human, but rather that the practical virtues are necessary though secondary supports of human life since they are mainly concerned with the passions. Thus far we have examined how the non-philosophical but virtuous individuals can be contemplators and it is time now to consider the mechanics of how the virtuous, phiIosophically minded individuals attain the6ria.

- -. - -

" There is another similarity, for in 1169b-1169a3 Aristotle also uses the locutions of nous being more than anything else the man in the way he uses it in 11 above. Chapter 5

The Relation of Divine Thinking to Human Thought in

Aristotle

(i) What exactly does Aristotle mean when he says that God's

activity consists of Thought Thinking Thought (noZssis noese6.s noEsis)*

and (ii) how is the highest human activity of contemplation (the6ria)

connected to it? This question is important for two reasons: Answering

the first part not only tells us what God's activity consists of, but also

what his essential nature is, since God's activity and being are

synonymous for Aristotle. Answering the second will tell us more about

the nature of human thought in general and of contemplation in particular,

which is important, since the latter is activity of eudaimonia for Aristotle.

More specifically, I am interested in trying to determine how in fact the

philosophical life culminates in the6ria. Most of the space here is devoted

to (i) though I will propose a tentative answer for (ii) which will only be

substantiated in the next chapter.'

I I am concerned here only with arguments presented in Lambda 7 and 9

because these seem to present AristotIe's considered position on the nature of

God's activity.

' I will also not involve myself in whether or not Aristotle's arguments for the existence of the Unmoved Mover are cogent or not. Nor wilI I enter the more Thought Thinking Thought has spawned three lines of interpretation in the long tradition of Aristotelian scholarship: according to the first, God has both historical knowledge (or detailed knowledge of the world and its substances) as well as nomological knowledge of the world's forms and laws. Such a position has the weighty support of thinkers like Aquinas and Brentano (1977). The second line of thought suggests that God has only nomological knowledge of the world and has been defended by Averoes in the past and Clark (1975), Norman (1979),

Lear (1988), De Koninck (1994) and Kahn ( 1992) in the present, to name but a few. The third suggests that God knows himself and nothing else.

This line of thought too has a fine pedigree beginning with Peter Ramus

pertinent debate on the relation of metaphysics as a study of being and metaphysics as a study of First Being. For excellent discussions on the issue, see Owens (1963), Patzig (1960) and most recently, Kosman (1987). 1 follow

Patzig who explains the relation in terms of paraynomy or what Owen calls

'focal reference.' This is not the relation of synonymy but rather the relation that holds between wood and wooden, health and healthy. Many things are healthy: clothes, food, exercise, etc., but heaIth itself is healthy and the cause of healthiness as is explained in Metaphysics IV.2 1003a33blff. So too with being; it is not the case that there are several different kinds of being that are homonymous, but rather, that there is something which has being and is itself the principle of being for all other beings and therefore maintains a paranornous relation with these other beings as does health with all healthy things (Patzig

1960 39-40). 175 and continuing into our day with Bonitz, Zeller, Ross (1949), Cornford

and Oehler (1974) Owens (1963), and most recently, Modrak (1987) and

(199 1).3

The textual evidence in Aristotle for God having historical

knowledge is difficult to find. Even in the one place in NE X.8 where he

does suggest that the Gods have concern for human action, he qualifies

with an 'if' ( 1 179a25). But the theological motivation for finding an

omniscient God in Aristotle is very strong, for it makes coherent the

connection between the world and divinity.

The suggestion that God has nomologica! knowledge of the world seems not only to have good textual backing, but also makes sound philosophical sense in the context of Aristotle's thought in general. For, if human contemplation is akin to divine, as Aristotle suggests it is (Metaphysics XII.7

1072b15-27), and if the highest human contemplation is of the forms and laws of the world (NE X.7 I177a20-22), then it must be the case that God too has nornological knowledge of the world.4 Also, the interpretation that God has knowledge only of himself '...lends an air of unnecessary absurdity to the whole account (of the Prime Mover). It suggests that the Prime Mover is a sort of

' For more on the details as well as the historical sources of this controversy.

see George (1989) and Brentano (1977).

4 That human contemplation is of the forms 2nd laws of the world is assumed

without question in many discussions is quite clear. See for instance Rorty

(1980b), Wilkes (I 980) and Kraut ( 1989). heavenly Narcissus, who looks around for the perfection which he wished to contemplate, finds nothing to rival his own self, and settles into a posture of permanent self-admiration.' (Norman 1979 p. 93) And it is to avoid this kind of alleged absurdity that the nornological reading of Lambda has become the prevalent one in the last thirty years or so.

The third reading, while open to such criticisms as Norman's, has

the additional problem of trying to explain how the world is related to

God, even though on a surface reading, as even its most trenchant critics

will admit, it has the strongest backing in Lambda 7 and 9. Ross (1949 pp.

175-8; 180-2) thinks that God is related to the world simply by being the

object of desire for the heavenly spheres who in turn are the objects of desire for the spheres within them and so on. But since God, as Ross

himself admits, is only thinking himself, it becomes difficult to see how such self-absorption can be the highest object of desire (Ross 1949 pp.

175-82). Owens, relying on De Anima 11.4 415a26-b7, thinks sensible things are said to imitate the eternality of the Unmoved Mover and the various spheres by the perpetuation of the form of the species through biological reproduction and thereby relates the two (Owens 1963 pp. 461-

3). This I think is a more plausible hypothesis, but in the second section I hope it will become clear that all living beings not only strive to emulate

God's eternality, but also his activity, and that this explains not only how

God is the final cause of all activity by being the object of desire, but how he is its constituent and efficient cause insofar he is the origin of rational and perceptual activity. Before I do this, in the first section I present and defend a variant of the third line of thought which avoids the above mentioned pitfalls. I argue that Thought Thinking Thought is not thinking in an ordinary sense, but is in fact the activity of pure unconditioned consciousness. Only by reading the text in this way, as I hope will become clear, can God's simplicity be maintained. In the second section, I will attempt to show how such a reading of Lambda resolves some of the controversies surrounding De Animn 111.4 and 5, and in the process, sheds light on the nature of human thecria. First, then, I will present my reading of Lambda and follow it up by a response to the objections of the nornological reading.

Aristotle discusses the object of God's thinking first in Metaphysics

(1.1) And thinking (noEsis) in itself, deals with that which is best in itself, (1.2) and that which is thinking in the fullest sense [deals] with that which is best in the fullest sense. (1.3) And thought thinks on itself because it shares the nature of the object of thought (tou noaou); (1.4) for it becomes an object of thought in coming into contact with and thinking its objects, (I .5) so that thought and object of thought are the same. (1 -6)For that which is capable of receiving (to dektikon) the object of thought, i.e. the essence (t8ousiar), is thought. ( 1O72b 17-23) The second discussion takes place a few pages later in XII.9 where

Aristotle begins the chapter by saying that there are certain problems concerning God's thinking for if he were thinking nothing, he would have no dignity and would not be any better off than someone who sleeps all the time. Then he says:

(2.1) And if it thinks, but this depends on something else, (2.2) then (since that which is its substance is not the act of thinking, but a potency [for thought]) it cannot be the best substance; (2.3) for it is through thinking that its value belongs to it. (2.4) Further, whether its substance is (a) the faculty of thought or the act of thinking, (b) what does it think of? (2.5) Either (a) of itself or (b) of something else; (2.6) and if of something else, either the same thing always or something different. (2.7) Does it matter, then, or not, whether it thinks of the good (to kalon) or any chance thing? (2.8) Are there not some things about which it is incredible that it should think (dianoeisthai)? (2.9)Evidently, then, it thinks of that which is most divine and precious (timetaton), and it does not change; for a change would be a change for the worse, and this would aiready be a movement. (2.10) First then, [if God is thinking of something else] 'thought' is not the act of thinking but a potency, it would be reasonable to suppose that the continuity of its thinking is wearisome to it. (2.1 1) Secondly, there would evidently be something eke more precious than thought [or God], viz. that which is thought of. (2.12) For both thinking and the act of thought will belong even to one who thinks of the worst thing in the world, so that if this ought to be avoided (and it ought, for there are even some things which it is better not to see (rnEhoran) than to see), [for otherwise] the act of thinking cannot be the best of things. (2.13) Therefore it must be of itself that the divine thought thinks (since it is the most excellent of things), (2.14) and its thinking is a thinking of thinking. (1074bI8- 35) It is clear from the introduction to XII.9 that God is thinking something, but what is this a thinking of (2.4)? Either (a) itself or (b) something else (2.5). (b), or the possibility that God is thinking of something else, is presented and rejected in (2.1-2.3; 2.6-2.12). That God is thinking himself is directly presented in (1.1- 1.6) and indirectly, in a way that involves a reductio, in (2.1-2.14). I will concentrate here on the direct argument.

What is meant by 'thinking in itself' in (1. l)? A complete explanation of what is meant here will be undertaken in the explication of

(1.3-1.6), but for the moment, I think the following will do as a stopgap.

Suppose I am learning a geometrical proof. Under normal circumstances, such a learning process involves the use of a visual diagram which makes understanding the proof much easier. For instance, if I am trying to determine the sum of all the interior angles of an octahedron (which in turn involves trying to determine how many triangles can fit within such a figure), it helps to know what an octahedron looks like. Such a process can be called assimilative thinking. But once I have learnt and understood the proof, then I can think autonomously for to contemplate the proof in my mind no longer requires the aid of a diagram though Aristotle thinks that we do use mental images during such ~ontem~lation.~Now God, being a perfect, simple actuality, does not undergo assimilative thinking, and, no matter what he is thinking about, his thinking is autonomous, or what Aristotle calls 'thinking in itself'?

This presentation of apprehensive and autonomous theoretical thinking is loosely based on De Anima 111.4 429b10-18, a close analysis of which is presented in Lowe (1983).

6 Does God's autonomous thinking involve images? It cannot, for God does not have a perceptual apparatus that produces images and even if he did not need such an apparatus, such images would violate his simplicity. In any case, if we think of God as having nomoIogica1 knowledge, or even knowledge of himself in the ordinary sense (I explain this presently), then he would have to be thinking with the help of images, for all such thinking involves images according to Aristotle (see 43 1a8ff and 43 1 b2ff). This, therefore, is one good reason for being suspicious of the nomoIogica1 reading. Ross (1970 p. 379) and Thus God's thinking is autonomous but then, oddly enough,

Aristotle says in (1.2) that the highest kind of thinking has to be of the highest thing, namely itself. Admittedly, what one is thinking about makes a difference insofar as the quality of thinking is concerned. Hence, we could say for instance, that it is better to think about a philosophical problem than to have adulterous thoughts. And this much is assumed in

(2.7-8) when Aristotle says that God should clearly be thinking good things and could not possibly be thinking about certain unspeakable things. 7 But there too in (2.9), as in (1.2), it is not clear why Aristotle straight-away jumps to the conclusion that God's autonomous thinking is about the most divine and precious, namely himself. I think the NE might help make the implicit assumption clearer.

In NE VI.7 defines wisdom (sophia) as the combination of intuitive reason (nous) and scientific knowledge (epistEm5) which has received its

Apostle (1970 p. 403 note 31) think that 'thinking in itself' refers to God's activity which, unlike human thinking, does not involve sensation and imagination. But it is clear there is a strong connection between the two, for as we shalt see, (1.3-5), which explain God's thinking, cannot be understood without a reference to human thinking as AristotIe explains it in De Anima

111.4. See also Elders 1972 pp. 186-7.

7 peri eni6n suggests sensible objects which provide pleasure as Elders (p. 253) points out. See also NE 1095b14ff. proper completion. Why the highest objects are included in the definition becomes clear,

...for it would be strange to think that the art of politics, or practical wisdom @hron&is),is the best knowledge, since man is not the best thing in the world. Now if what is healthy or good is different for men and for fishes, but what is white or straight is always the same, anyone would say that what is wise is the same but what is practically wise is different; ( 114 1a20-25 my emphasis) Presumably, the straight and the white are the same for humans, dogs, the beings of the celestial spheres and for God, if he has such knowledge But God is the same in the highest sense of the word, for not only is he unmoving (1072a25-26) and unchanging (2.9), but also because he exists necessarily as the cause of the heavenly motion (1072b8)? Thus the First Mover or God must be thinking of himself and only of himself, since his thinking is in the fullest sense, for he is the best object of knowledge. Finally, since the presentation of God's existence in 1072a19- b16 as being the same, unchanging and necessary in the highest sense immediately precedes the presentation of God as thinking himself in (I),

Aristotle thinks there is nothing mysterious about why God should only be thinking about himself.

In the text, Aristotle presents three senses of necessity: (a) by force and contrary to its natural desire (b) that without which the good is impossible and

(c) that which cannot exist in any other way but only in the way it is (1072b12-

13). Which of these apply to God is controversial but all agree that (c) must be true of his nature which is all that is required for our purposes. See

Metaphysics IV.5, Elders p. 179 and Ross 1970 p.378 for more on this. Next, Aristotle briefly presents the mechanics of thinking in (1 -3-6) in which he concludes that when actual thinking is going on, that which thinks is the same as that which is thought. This brief argument is not repeated again in (2), but is obviously assumed when Aristotle makes the move from 'God is thinking of himself' in (2.13) to 'God is a thinking of thinking' in (2.14). The presentation in (1.3-6) clearly relies on the distinctions made in De Anima 111.4 which need to be spelt out in order to understand Aristotle's point here.

In De Anima 111.4 (429b5-lo), Aristotle alludes to distinctions he has made elsewhere (De Anima 11.1 412a10, a22; 11.5) between first potentiality, first actuality/second potentiality and second actuality. First potentiality is the latent ability, for example, a child has to become a geometrician, perhaps not immediately, but at some future time provided s/he gets the appropriate education. Second potentialitylfirst actuality is the acquisition of a disposition (hexis) to be a geometrician through the educational process. When the person, having acquired the knowledge, is contemplating a particular proof in her mind, she is said to be actualizing her disposition in the full sense of the word, or manifesting what is called a 'second actuality1.'

9 A parallel scenario is found in perception. In perceiving a tree, we can say that the sensibIe Form of a tree is partly its appearance as a tree and partly its ability to cause appropriately situated perceivers to perceive, whereas the form of a tree is its essence or what makes it a tree. Part of this is of course to But it is crucial to ask what the relation is between say the

rectangle as an actuality manifest in a rectangular table and the rectangle

as manifest in the second actuality of contemplation. Aristotle says that

appear like a tree but this does not exhaust its essence. The sensible form of the

tree, a first actuality, that is perceived is actualized (in the sense of second actuality) only in the perceiver, and of this, the tree is the cause. Now the soul

has three stages of knowledge: first potentiality, first actuality and second actuality. This applies to perception too, for the cause of perception is external but the sensory consciousness is a second actuality that is an actualization that

is complete at every moment of the first actuality (the capacity to perceive) that we inherit from our parents. The disanalogy with thinking is that while the second actuality for thinking needs no external object, the one for perception does, i.e., the sensory object (cf. Lear (1988) p. 100-106 and Kosman (1975)).

I agree with Lear that the transmission of sensible form must have a physical as well as spiritual aspects, though Aristotle has been read to hold that perception involves the former (e.g. Sorabji (1979) and Slakey (1968)) or the latter (e.g. Kosman (1975) and Burnyeat (1992)) aspect exclusively. Aristotle does give a physical account, for instance, of how light transmits color, but he also wants to explain the spiritual aspect in terms of sight as the power to see, which clearly seems to be the consciousness invoIved in perception. Thus when the eye sees red, it takes on a certain logos or order as a physical manifestation of seeing, but there is a higher level of change which is non-physical, which involves consciousness, and which is not found in the perceptual object (for further details, see Lear pp. 109- 1 16). the intelligible object is present in those things with matter but only potentially. But when the mind thinks the intelligible object, it does so without the matter (430a6-9). Now since the form of the rectangle in the table has to be actual in some sense for there to be a rectangular table at all, it must be the case that when this rectangular aspect is being thought, the thinking involved is a different, intelligible actuality, whereas the rectangle in the table, though actual in one sense, is potential insofar as it is potentially an object of thought. I0 One must not mistake the intelligible actuality in the mind with an image of a rectangle (which, as mentioned before, accompanies all theoretical thinking), for this would be its sensible form. Rather, its intelligible aspect would be its formal definition as a four-sided figure with the opposite sides equal, with one pair of

10 Lear (pp. 125-30) thinks that the intelligible second actuality is higher than the actuality manifest in matter. But this has some odd consequences. NE VI.7 tells us that there are things more divine than man, e.g. the celestial bodies

(1 141a33ff). So if an astronorner/phiIosopher were to be contemplating the intelligible aspects of these bodies, then it would follow that this intelligible actuality is a higher one than the embodied form of the spheres, a consequence that Aristotle would surely not allow. Thus I think Owens (1992) p. 115) is right when he says "(a) thing can be in a material or an immaterial way, a substantial or an accidental way, a physical or cognitional way ..." which does not mean that to be in a cognitional way is higher than to be in a physical way. opposite sides longer than the other, and all its interior angles measuring ninety degrees each. I'

Now the process of acquiring this knowledge for Aristotle is peculiar, for the intellect itself is nothing actual before it thinks and is in fact pure potentiality (429a21ff). But since thinking is akin to perception for Aristotle, the process of learning (or developing a first actuality), like perceiving, requires being affected by the potentially intelligible object via the senses and imagination." But 'being affected' can be misleading,

I I This presentation owes much to Lear 1988 pp. 118-133 with some differences as will be clear in what follows above.

The wax analogy (424a17ff and 429b3 Iff) suggests that it is the image itself which leaves an imprint on the intellect just as a gold ring leaves an imprint on the wax without leaving behind any gold. Imagination, like sensation, has a physical and psychical aspect; Aristotle describes the former in terms of the movement of the soul through the body that takes place after the sense object is gone (459b7ff; 46 Ia3-8; 46 1a25-b15), and the latter in terms of the image without which the immaterial intellect cannot think (43 1a8ff; 43 1b2ff). Thus, just as sense faculty can take on perceptible forms without the matter associated with them (though there are physical aspects to perception, as pointed out above), the intellect is described metaphorically as receiving the intelligible aspect of the image in terms of the imprint. Therefore, intellection, as opposed to perception, is a purely psychical process since nous and hence the activities particular to nous are not physical and noetic activity concerned with perception only involves the psychical aspects of sensation.

186 for since the intellect is nothing actual before it thinks, when it learns it not only acquires but becomes identical to what it learns. Since the thinking has become identical to the object of thought, it is clear how

'thinking in itself' in (1.1) is autonomous; for thought has all it needs for thinking within itself. Thus Aristotle can say at 429b6-9

When the intellect has become each of its objects in this way [i-e., become a first actuality], as the man who actually knows is said to be, that is, when it is capable of acting on its own, even then it is in a sense potential (thought not in the same sense as it was before it learned and discovered anything), but now it can think itself [in the sense of second actuality]. Bywater emends the last line to read '...but now it can think by itself' (autos di' hautou as opposed to autos de hauton) and is followed by

Hicks 1976 p. 484-5) and Ross who thinks there is no point in a reference here to self-knowledge. But such an emendation is unwarranted, it has been argued, for Aristotle does not simply mean that the intellect can now think by itself, but rather, since it becomes one with the object of thought in the process of acquiring the first actuality, it actually thinks itself when it is a second actuality (Lear 1988 p. 124-5). I think this objection is partly right for Aristotle does mean that mind can think itself insofar as it is itself the object of thought, and this much is also intimated in 43la3-

9. But Lear wants to go further and say that since contemplation involves reflexive consciousness which does not involve a separate mental faculty with mind as its subject, mind must also be thinkable as subject. "For in thinking an object of thought one is also aware that one is thinking, and both the thinking of the object and the consciousness that one is thinking are none other than the object of thought itself at its highest level of activity." (Lear pp. 131-32)h other words, our self knowledge or

consciousness is not incidental to our thinking as second actuality, but in

fact identical with id3

But this cannot possibly be for Aristotle, for when I am

contemplating a theoretical object such as a rectangle, my thinking may

be identical with what is thought; but for such contemplation to be

identical with my consciousness-of-self requires that this consciousness-

of-self must initially be an intrinsic part of the theoretical object

contemplated, which is surely absurd. For consciousness-of-self of any

kind cannot be part of a rectangle's essence. Thus it must be Aristotle's

point that consciousness-of-self that accompanies thinking is incidental to

the thinking just as the consciousness that accompanies perception is

incidental to perception (see De Anirna 11.5 417a2ff; 111.2 425b 12ff), a

point that is validated by introspection.I4 For when we think, the mind is

' A similar position is stated in Clark 1975 p. 179 but without any detailed justification.

14 It could be objected that the second actuality of the rectangle in my mind is

an intelligible, formal version of the one in the table and is in fact quite

different from it. Hence to think in terms of the formal aspect of the rectangle

is to already conceive it as within my mind, just as to perceive an object of

perception is to already be aware of the object. But I think my objection still

stands for I don't think Lear couid maintain that the intelligible essence of the

rectangle conceived as its formal definition, essentially includes my setf- awareness as part of its intelligible nature. In fact Lear says that when we contemplate the essence of a living thing such as a frog, then since the highest manifestation of froggiehood (which is the intelligible manifestation) occurs in the act of contemplation where the thinking and thought are the same, we can say that it is frog form (but not the frog itself) that is understanding itself when contemplation is going on (Lear 1988 p, 131). While this makes an interesting point, I'm not sure that it is Aristotle's position, for what happens when contemplation is of the essence of a non-living thing such as a rectangle?

Would Lear say that the essence of rectangle is contemplating itself? Also, in the case of the frog, since it is formal essence of the frog that is being contemplated, which is quite distinct from the form of the frog as it is embodied in the matter (for perhaps such a soul involves a self in some sense), how can frog form be said to be contemplating itself? In any case, if frog form is understanding itself in contemplation, then it must mean that there is no self- awareness involved much less a self-awareness (that is mine as opposed to the frog's) that is identical with the contemplation. But part of what it means to contemplate is that there is some sort of consciousness of the thing contemplated. Therefore, Lear's reading cannot be correct.

Even A. Kosman, (1975 513ff), who thinks that perception simply is the consciousness of the second actuality of the sensible form which is manifest only in the perceiver, would not deny that such consciousness is distinct from the consciousness that is perception, for "(r)eflective consciousness-of-self cannot be pure and immediate self consciousness ... since consciousness when taking itself for object is immediately alienated from itself, dividing itself into subject and object, the witnessing and witnessed self." (p. 516) f 89 thinkable insofar as it is the object of thought, but our consciousness of

ourselves as thinking subjects is distinct from the thinking and in fact

incidental to it.

That consciousness is incidental to thinking is not just a function of

whether or not we agree with Bywater's emendation above is clear, for

principal commentators on both sides of the emendation agree on the

incidental nature of such consciousness. Thus Owens (1988), who

disagrees with the emendationlssays with regard to the self that "...from

the epistemological viewpoint it makes the thing that is known or perceived be the primary object in question, with the agent as only something concomitant, existing in function of and in this respect secondarily to, the sensible things." (712-3). So too with Hicks (1976), who, though he follows Bywater's emendation, says "...intellect must know itself as different from the things which it thinks. It knows itself, then, by reflecting, or in so far as it reflects, upon its own operation. It knows that it thinks; ... (but it) ...knows itself indirectly ..." (p.485).L6

15 For Owens' detailed defense of the original reading of autos de hauron, see

Owens 1976.

16 In fact Norman (1979 p. loo), like Lear, as we shall see, uses this argument to show that God has nomologica1 knowledge of the world because his thinking is the same as all the intelligible aspects of the world. But unlike Lear, he does admit that self knowledge or self-awareness is incidental to the act of contemplation. The obvious question that comes to mind here is that since we have been talking about the incidental consciousness of self associated with thinking, what is the self for Aristotle? I have discussed Aristotle's views on the self in the NE in chapter 4. There, Aristotle suggests that there are two different kinds of self-love and therefore two different types of selves, depending on the configuration of their respective souls. Thus if the rational element is predominant over the appetitive part, which is made up of both rational and irrational elements, we have true self-love, as opposed to when the appetitive is in control and we have what is commonly thought to be the self-lover or the selfish individual. Of course the discussion in the NE depends on a Platonic conception of the soul but is enough for Aristotle to make the point he is interested in making regarding moral selfhood.

In the De Anima, Aristotle has different priorities; here, he is interested not in the moral aspects of selfhood, but in its biological aspects. I cannot go into the issue in full detail here but will present my position briefly. As Owens (1988) and Kahn (1992) point out, the intellect itself is not the source of selfhood. Here therefore, by 'self' I mean the unifying principle by which (a) the objects of perception can be attributed to a single perceiver (b) the different objects of the special senses can be associated with one object, and (c) the common sensibles perceived through different senses are attributed to one object (cf. Kahn 1979 pp. 6-

1 l).E think Kahn (1979) has shown conclusively that the self which accompanies all perception and thought originates in the common sense

which for Aristotle is located in the heart, and that this is Aristotle's

position in both the De Anima and the Parva Naturalia. I disagree with

Kahn insofar as he equates the consciousness of perception with the self

because I think Aristotle's point is that consciousness not only makes

perception and thought possible, but is also responsible for the connection

between these activities and the self, which in turn allows for the

feasibility of saying that a particular cognition or thought is mine. In

other words, while it is true that we share selfhood in this biological

sense and therefore the unity of perception with both animals and

children, the unity of apperception or the perception that we are and that

which makes full selfhood possible is available only to grown adults, a

point which, for the sake of exegetical convenience, I will fully

substantiate only in the next section. 17

17 It may be objected that while they might have different priorities, are the

treatments of seifhood in the NE and the De Anima entirely consistent with one

another? I. think they are. Suppose we take the self located in the common sense

to be roughly equivalent to the appetitive self of the NE. This makes sense

because, just as in the NE, to emphasize the biological seIf is to emphasize the

body and all its needs and therefore make the externat goods one's top priority.

This of course doesn't mean that such a person has no consciousness-of-self or

unity of apperception, just as in the NE being appetitive doesn't mean that the appetitive does not use reason; reason here is simply subordinated to the Going back to God's thinking in Metaphysics XII, Aristotle says in

(2.10) (in response to (2.4a) God's being is actual Thought for "...if

'thought' is not the act of thinking but a potency, it would be reasonable to suppose that the continuity of its thinking is wearisome to it." But since it is eternally and untiringly active, and thereby produces movement by being the object of desire (1073a5-12; 1074b10-1 l), it must be the case that God's being is not the faculty of thinking but the very act of thinking itself.

So if God is Thought, and if his Thinking in itself is of the best in the fullest sense, namely of himself, then given that in thinking, the thinking and the object of thought are the same, Thought is Thinking

Thought. Or, alternatively, God as Thinking is a Thinking of Thinking.

But many disagree with this reading and argue for a nornological account of the text in ~arnbda.'~Lear's account (1988), is perhaps the most thorough and thoughtful, and it is against this position that I will argue here. Lear agrees that God's thinking is of himself insofar as God is the highest realization of all forms of the world. Thus, since his thinking is the same as his being, he is in fact thinking of all the principles of the world in a single intuitive grasp. But how is this thinking of things in the

appetites. in fact it could be pointed out that the vicious man has Iess consciousness-of-self and therefore self-knowledge than the good man because of the subordination of nous to the biological self.

"See introduction for scholars on all sides of this issue. best and highest sense as (1.2) and (2.11) stipulate? Lear thinks that human and divine thinking is qualitatively the same, which has interesting implications for God's thinking. When, for instance, a human is learning about frogs, the process of acquiring knowledge entails acquiring the intelligible form of froggiehood. Thus when a human is contemplating froggiehood and thereby manifesting a second intelligible actuality, then this is in fact the highest and best manifestation of froggiehood, quite distinct from and higher than, the second actuality manifest in the life of a frog, which consists of fly-catching, reproducing, etc.Ig Thus a frog can be seen as doing all it can to be intelligible, an actualization that occurs not in its own being, but in the mind of the contemplator (Lear pp. 96-

141).

Now God, being perfect, does not need to acquire any first actuality and his being is essentially his thinking, unlike humans, who only incidentally become the objects of their thought. But since God's being/thinking is the second actualization of all the forms of the world, he is related to it by being its highest and best manifestation. But this does

19 As seen before, saying that the intelligible form is a higher actuality than the enmattered form is problematic. For it means that higher rational beings (the heavenly bodies) can have their highest actualization in lesser rational beings, which is odd. But let us grant to Lear that this objection does not apply to

God's thinking which must be much superior to ours, even though he thinks it is qualitatively like human thinking. not mean that God's thought simply reproduces the intelligible structure of the world as we humans can do at best; instead, the order of the world can be seen as an attempted physicalization of God's thought insofar as individual beings reproduce, and thereby maintain, the immortality of the species (Lear pp. 293-306).

One potential problem can be taken care of right away. Aristotle says God is a simple (and therefore indivisible) substance, where

'simplicity' signifies its mode of existence (Metaphysics XII.7 1071a34-

35; 1073a4-7). But if, at the same time, God is identical with the forms of many substances, as is suggested above, then how can his simplicity be maintained? Once again the text of the De Aninla (111.6 430b6-b20) is invoked. When we think of a line as actually indivisible (adiairetos)" in a moment of time, it is quite different from the actually undivided line present in the drawing of a triangle on the ground. The latter is actually undivided but not actually indivisible. But the same line that we think as actually indivisible can be thought of as two actually indivisible lines, not at the same instant, but rather in two moments in time. Now the same reasoning applies to God's thought, which, being the highest (eternal) actualization of all the forms of the world, is an actually indivisible

20 Hamlyn (1993 ) translates 'adiairetos' as 'undivided' and not as 'indivisible' which is its normal translation, because for Aristotle, a line is normally the paradigm of divisible things. But the account presented here avoids the need for such an inconsistency. simplicity, whereas its lower level manifestation in the world of

composites is as a multiplicity which is potentially divisible and

indivisible depending on if and how it is being thought about by

individual minds (Lear pp. 303-306)." But let us see if this reading avoids

other problems as easily.

I think Lear is exploiting an ambiguity between the best aspect of a

substance and the best substance. Aristotle does seem to agree with Plato

that there are different levels of knowledge corresponding to the different

levels of reality, as the division of sciences in Metaphysics VI.1 makes

clear, for perishable substances are lower in the hierarchy than

imperishable ones. But Aristotle also suggests that the formal aspects of

perishable substances are higher than the perishable substances

themselves (644b22-645a36), which has led some to believe that there is a

discrepancy in Aristotle's thought (Elders p. 256 for instance). But I don't

think this necessarily follows, for the principles of perishable substances

" De Koninck (1994) presents a simpler version: a line is potentially divisible

but when we think of it, we think of it as indivisible and as a unity. Even if we join two lines, we think of them as a unity in a unified period of time, the now.

Also, since the world is finite and complete and has nothing outside it and

since God has infinite power, it must be possible for God to think the essences of the world in their entirety. Now if in thinking, the thought and its object are one, and if thinking of many things happens simultaneously, wouldn't we be thinking of them as one though they are potentially many? (498-99) are higher than the perishable substances themselves and these principles themselves are ranked in terms of what they are principles of.

Accordingly, principles of higher (imperishable) substances rank higher than principles of lower (perishable) ones. Thus it is true that if I am thinking of a frog as intelligible and therefore as an object of scientific knowledge, then such thinking is higher than say if I was thinking of the frog as dinner." But that does not make froggiehood a better subject of contemplation per se than the essence of the heavenly bodies for instance, and this much is clear in NE VI.7, as pointed out before. For Aristotle clearly thinks that some substances are better than others which is why he can say that even if man is the best of the animals, there are still other substances like the heavenly bodies, who are more divine and therefore better (1 141a33-114lb2). Whereas it is only because Lear thinks that thinking of the intelIigibIe aspect of froggiehood is the best thinking per se that aIlows him to say that God is the intelligible aspect of all substances. But this move is blocked if we see that God is only thinking about the best aspect of substance insofar as it is of the best substance as

"Note I do not say, as does Lear, that my thinking of the intelligible aspect is higher than froggiehood as personified in the frog. We have seen the problems that arise with Lear's position on this earlier. I think Aristotle would say that my thinking is of the intelligible aspect of the frog but not higher than it. A complete justification of this point would require a detailed reading of

Metaphysics Zeta which would be inappropriate here. well, which are the same in God's case for his substance and essence are

identical. Therefore, God must be thinking of himself.

Next, I think it is wrong to say that God's contemplation is

qualitatively though not quantitatively the same as human c~ntern~lation.~It is true that at 1072b14-5, Aristotle does say that God's

"...life is such as the best which we enjoy, and enjoy but for a short time", which endorses Lear's point. For if we could contemplate continuously and live as long as God does, then there would be no qualitative or quantitative difference between our respective activitie~.'~But a few lines later Aristotle says:

'3 '3 Lear actually makes a stronger claim for he says that when we are contemplating, since the object of thought and the thinking are one, it is hard to distinguish one actualized mind from another. Thus if we think what God is thinking, then we become identical to God (p. 140).

'" In NE VII. 14 Aristotle explains why we cannot contemplate continoously.

Contemplation according to him, is the activity of just one eIement within us whose activity is unnatural to the other element (the body is implied here).

Thus for us to contemplate at all, the other aspect has to be satiated or balanced

(which involves fulfilling the body's needs and all the social, economical and moral activities that this entails, see chapter 4 for more on this). Whereas God, who is simple, can contemplate continuousIy for the same activity would always be continuously pleasant to him (1 154b20-27). (a) If, then, God is always in that good state [of contemplation] that we sometimes are, this compels our wonder; (b) and if in a better [state] this compels it yet more. And God is in a better state. (1072b24-26) Now the 'always' in (a) makes it clear that God's thinking is durationally Ionger than ours and therefore quantitatively better, which echoes the sentiments of 1072b 14-15. But (b) suggests that God's being

(and therefore his thinking) is a better state and is therefore qualitatively better.= What, according to Aristotle, the exact difference is between divine and human contemplation will be taken up in the next section.

The biggest problem with the nornological reading is that it makes

God's consciousness of himself incidental to his thinking. Even though

Lear tries to avoid this conclusion, it is clear from the discussion above, that he cannot. Indeed, the first modern-day champion of the nornological position - Norman (1979) p. 100) - admits as much. But there can be nothing incidental about God's being/thinking, for he exists simply

(1072a32-35) and necessarily in a way such that it cannot be otherwise for his existence is absolutely necessary ( L072b 10-13).

75 Additional proof that human contemplation is qualitatively different from

God's is presented in chapter 3 section 5 where, based on the EE, I show that while contemplation is of God and is not possible without him as the source of the power by which we contemplate, our contemplation is not the same as

God's. Similarly, the NE (X.7 1178b23) says that human theo'ria is most akin to

(and not therefore the same as) God's contemplation. So the nornological reading of Lambda is seriously flawed, which leaves us with the possibility that God only has self-knowledge. One problem that the self-knowledge reading avoids, as we saw previously, is that we do not have a God thinking about inferior things, albeit the best aspects of inferior things, since, as we saw, Aristotle explicitly rejects such a possibility. But how then does conceiving God as thinking himself avoid the problem? It is true that if I, as subject, am contemplating my own essence (i-e., as human rather than individual essence) as object, then my consciousness of myself as thinking is incidental to the thinking itself.

But in God's case, there is no such distinction between subject, object and activity, for the (subject) thinker, the (object) thought and the activity

(thinking) are identical. Thus divine thinking, based on considerations of human thought pushed to their logical extreme, is the result of a convergence of the categories of substance, object and activity that characterize human thinking. 26

So what then is God's activity? Let me suggest that his activity, and therefore his being, is simply that of pure, unconditioned, consciousness

(a consciousness related to but distinct from the conditioned consciousness that is part of perception and intellection in humans, as will

26 As pointed out earlier, another reason why God cannot be a subject thinking of himself as object in the normal sense is because all such thinking is accompanied by images, a requirement that would surely violate God's simplicity. become clear in the next section). First, this avoids the problem of incidental consciousness, for in God's case, it simply is what God's activity is all about. Second, it explains why Aristotle says, when describing God's activity as pure bliss, 27 that it is because of this activity that "waking, perception and thinking (noeSis) are most pleasant ..."

(1072b16). Thus God's activity is not simply thinking but that which makes thinking pleasurable, i-e., consciousness that we are thinking. 28

" See De Anima 412a26 for this meaning. In Lambda 7, Aristotle seems to identify God's activity with pleasure which is in keeping with his definition of pleasure as uninterrupted activity in NE VII. But perhaps because this definition smacks too much of hedonism, he changes the definition in Book

IX.4 and says rather that pleasure completes an activity but in such a way that it is almost impossible to distinguish the activity from the pleasure. It is perhaps because he has God's simpticity in mind that he is reluctant to separate the activity from the pleasure.

'' Kosman (1987) makes a similar point. Because I take Aristotle's point to be that God's activity is one of consciousness, I disagree with Menn (1992) who thinks that God or nous is the activity of reason or intelligence. It is true

Aristotle does use noesis to characterize rational activity as 1072b16 itseIf makes clear, but he must mean more by it than that if we are to make any sense of 1072b16 at all. For otherwise the text would read "For it is ever in this state

(i.e., of noetic activity) ... since its actuality is pleasure. (And therefore waking, perception, and thinking (noesis) are most pleasant ...) or in other words, the activity of thinking makes waking, perception and thinking This also explains why in the EE (VIII.2 1248a25ff) Aristotle says that

God is the starting point of reason and therefore beyond reason and knowledge, which he would not have said if God's activity is an eternal intuition of the first principles of the world.29 Third, such a reading clarifies the relation between maker and passive mind, as will become clear in the next section. Finally, it explains why Aristotle does not think the problem of incidental consciousness applies to God. For at 1074b35, which immediately foilows (2), he says:

(3.1) But evidently knowledge and perception and opinion and understanding have always something else as their object, and themselves only by the way. (3.2) Further, if thinking and being thought are different, in respect of which does goodness belong to thought? (3.3) For being an act of thinking and being an object of thought are not the same. (3.4) We answer that in some cases the knowledge is in the object. (3.5) In the productive sciences (if we abstract the matter) the substance in the sense of essence, and (3.6) in the theoretical sciences the formula or the act of thinking, is the object. (3.7) As, then, thought and the object of thought are not different in the case of things that have not matter, they pleasurable. It is odd enough to say that thinking makes thinking pleasurable but it is positively absurd to say that thinking makes waking, perception, etc. pleasurable.

29 It may be argued that Aristotle not only says here that God is beyond reason and knowledge, but also beyond inteIIect or nous (see for e.g. Woods 1982 p.

182) which makes the passage completely inconsistent with Lambda. But the addition of rzous to the passage is made by Spengler in his edition of the EE and is not found in the original Vaticanus MSS of the 13th century or in the 15th century one of Marcianus (see Aristotle (1961) p. 466-67) and seems to me to be unwarranted here. See also De Anima 11.3 414b16ff where Aristotle specifically distinguishes thinking (dianotikon) and intellect (nous). will be the same; i-e., the thinking wit1 be one with the object of thought. ( lO74b35- lO7Sa4)

This argument has often been taken to show that God is in fact thinking of substances and principles of the world, but this cannot possibly be correct. First, if we attribute (3.6) and hence the thinking of the principles of the world to God, we would also have to say, as (3.5) suggests, that God is also thinking of the productive sciences, which I don't think Lear would allow; for it would be odd, for instance, to attribute to God the thinking of the principles of painting, sculpture and all the arts that Aristotle relegates to the productive sciences. 30 Second, I think (3) makes it quite clear that God is in fact simply the activity of consciousness, because how, under the nornological reading, is (3.6) construed to be an answer to (3.1) since it seems clearly an answer to

30 Elders pp. 263-65 suggests that by 'productive sciences' Aristotle means geometry and mathematics since these were studied with instruments even though Aristotle classifies them as theoretical sciences in Metaphysics E 1.

One would have to force onto Aristotle this inconsistency only if we assume that the point is a reference to God's thinking, which it is not. If we take Elders to be right, then the passage does not have an answer to (3.1) but only to (3.2), as will become clear in a bit. Whereas my solution not only shows how the passage answers both (3.1) and (3.2)' but also avoids attributing to Aristotle the inconsistency of whether or not mathematics is a productive or theoretical science. (3.~)?~'For if we take God's thinking to be similar to ours, then it is quite

clear that even when we are contemplating theoretical objects, the

consciousness that we are so contemplating is incidental to such thinking,

and this Aristotle himself points out in (3.1). If, on the other hand, God is

the activity of consciousness in that, as in human thinking, the thinking

and the thought are the same, but with the added caveat that the thinker

and the thinking are also the same (which Aristotle has just pointed out in

(Z)), then it is clear why there is nothing incidental about his

consciousness. After all, that is all there is to his activity and being.

Thus, if in fact it is consciousness of thinking that is pleasurable, and

given that God's activity is pleasurable in the highest sense, it follows

that his activity cannot be anything but this activity of consciousness.

One final objection to the nornological reading, which wilI also

serve as a transition to the next section, has to do with the relation

between God and the maker intellect (nous poibikos)32in man. It is

3 1 Elders p. 260ff agrees that it is (3.2) that is answered in the rest of (3) and

not (3.1) and that we are left to infer that divine thinking has direct self knowIedge as opposed to human thinking which has only indirect self knowledge . But my reading not only shows how Aristotle actually answered both questions at once, but also how God can be said to have direct self knowledge.

3Z See Kosman 1992 for reasons why 'maker intellect' is the best translation for nous poetikos. generally agreed by all sides that their respective activities are quite

similar even though not all agree that their essence is the same. Now if

God is thinking of all the principles of the world, then it follows that so

must the maker intellect. In fact such readings are forced to conclude that passive intellect and maker intellect are not two distinct faculties but rather, two different levels of actualization of the same mind." But such a reading directly contradicts the text of De Anima 111.5 which says that the maker intellect makes all things as opposed to the passive intellect which becomes all things (430a14ff), suggesting in fact that these are indeed two distinct faculties. Not only that, but given that the maker intellect is eternally active (430a17), it cannot be the actualization of a potential which is what an actualized passive intellect must be (cf. Modrak 1991 p.

765), in which case Aristotle would have called it 'actualized mind' rather than 'maker intellect' (Kosman 1992 p.3 13).

What then is the activity of maker intellect if it isn't intellectual?

In NE 1 177al1-18, 1177b25-27, and 1177b30-35, Aristotle points out distinctly that nous is the divine element in us, a reference that is clearly

33 See for instance Kahn 1992, Lear 1988 pp. 136-38 and Wedin 1988 chapter

5. to the maker intellect, which is described as immortal and eternal at De

Anirna 111.5 430a24 (cf. also 408b18), since the passive intellect is perishable for reasons that will become clear shortly. And if what I say above is right and the divine's activity is one of pure unconditioned consciousness, it follows that the activity of the maker intellect too is one of consciousness, albeit a conditioned one, since maker intellect is the activity of God within us, as opposed to God conceived as acting in separation. 34 This scenario has several advantages as it explains (a) how the light analogy works and how the maker intellect remains unaffected

(b) why there is no memory associated with maker intellect and (c)what

Aristotle means when he says that maker intellect is active at all times.

(a) In De Anima 111.5 Aristotle says:

(4.1) And in fact intellect (no~s)'~,as we have described it, is what it is by virtue of becoming all things, (4.2) while there is another which is what it is by virtue

34 I think that the maker intellect is the same as the unmoved mover for three reasons: first, it explains how God is the unmoved mover by being the object of desire, as wilI become clear in what follows above. Second, such a reading explains Aristotle's hesitation in EE VII.14 1248a26 that there is 'in a sense' a divine element in us. For we are not divine though it is the divine that makes possible the activity of passive nous. (A similar hesitation can also be found at

NE 1 177a 1 1 - 18). Finally, this equation is not without historical precedent and has such august supporters as Alexander of Aphordisias.

35 Replacing 'Thought' with 'Intellect' for 'nous' in all the following occurrences of the Oxford Translation. of making all things: (4.3) this is a sort of positive state (hexis) like light; for in a sense light makes potential colors into actual colors. (4.4) InteIlect (nous)in this sense of it is separable (keistos),impassable (aparhd), unmixed (amigEi), since it is in its essential nature activity (4.5) (for always the active is superior to the passive factor, the originating force to the matter.) (43Oa 14- 19). How is the intellect that makes all things analogous to light? In De

Anima 11.7 Aristotle explains that light is the actualization of the transparent medium (whether it be in air, water or even solid bodies) as transparent. Potentially the transparent is dark but is actualized in the presence of fire or any such source of light. Aristotle is careful to say that the fire itself is not light but its source, since light itself is a condition of the medium that is transparent and therefore calls light a sort of color of the transparent (418b3-19). Thus it isn't light that makes the potentially transparent actually so, but rather the presence of fire in the potentially transparent that makes it actually transparent and hence lit (cf. Hicks pp.

369-70). Therefore, what is visible in light is color (419a6), which when actualized, is capable of setting in motion that which is actually transparent (i-e., the illuminated medium), which in turn physically moves the eye with which it is continuous (419a6-14). Finally, Aristotle also says that the transparent is not strictly speaking, visible in itself, but because of the color of other objects in it (418b4).

Aquinas (1951 pp. 400-432) - whose view is essentially in agreement with that of Theophrastus - takes the analogy to result in the following position: The maker and passive intellects are both immaterial without any accompanying bodily aspects and both belong essentially to human nature and are therefore not divine. The passive intellect has the potential to have ideas, like a wax tablet has potential to receive impressions, and acquires forms through a kind of affection. Now the sense organs produce the images but these, being material, cannot be impressed on the immaterial passive intellect. Thus the maker intellect abstracts and illuminates the formal aspect of the image without the accompanying material and impresses it on the passive intellect.

Therefore the maker intellect, like light, makes the potentially intelligible actually so by way of the abstractive process and is also the medium through and by which the formal aspects of the image are impressed on the passive intellect.

The trouble with this reading is that it is difficult to see how, given the changes the maker intellect undergoes during the process of abstraction, it manages to stay unaffected and unmixed as Aristotle requires in the quote above. Kosman (1992), while defending a version of

Lear's argument that maker intellect is in fact actualized passive intellect, makes a point that can perhaps be used in Aquinas's defense.

Kosman points out (basing his interpretation on Categories 4alOff) that a basic ingredient of Aristotie's ontology is the relation between determinacy and openness to determination. According to him, it is in fact a characteristic feature of substance to take on accidental determination without being overwhelmed and yet retaining its identity. So too with mind. Thus "(t)he activity of knowing is precisely this act of becoming determined by the object of knowledge while remaining oneself, and nous is the psychic power so to be determined without relinquishing

determinate identity. This is what it means that for Aristotle, as for

Anaxagoras, nous is apatht5.s ..." (Kosman 1992 p. 357). But since nous is pure potentiality before it is actualized (on Kosman and Lear's reading, if

not on Aquinas's), it is hard to see what identity is not being relinquished.

Even if we allow that on Aquinas's reading, maker intellect is unaffected in this sense of not relinquishing its identity, it's difficult to see how it remains unmixed. For like light, it too seems be a medium through which the passive intellect is affected, which would mean that it mixes in some sense with that of which it is a medium, namely the formal element.

How then are we to understand the light analogy? Part of the problem with the analogy is that it seems to be unclear because of an ambiguity in the text. Light is a condition or positive state of the transparent medium as transparent, and given what is said in De Anima

11.7, this condition is possible only when there is a fire or a source of light present in the medium. In (4.3)- Aristotle seems to be talking of light and hence nous and as a condition or attribute, whereas in (4.4) when he talks about nous, he seems to be thinking of it as substance, which is separable, etc., and therefore, if we think in terms of light, as the source of light. Thinking of the light analogy in terms of this distinction solves many problems for we can see, for instance, how while light itself can be affected by color and therefore change, the source of light remains unchanged and unaffected. So too with consciousness which we can think of as the actualization of individuals conceived as mediums in the

presence of the active intellect; a consciousness that is integral not only

to the processes of perception and intellection (and therefore understood

as affected and mixed), but also indispensable for the knowledge that

these belong to me as an individual. Thus active intellect is itself

unaffected and unmixed though the conditioned consciousness that it

originates in us is not. So Aquinas is right in one sense for active intellect

is involved in the process of intellection, but only indirectly insofar as

consciousness, its product, is involved in intellection. Finally, just as

light not only makes color visible, but is itself visible only because it

makes these colors visible,36so too with consciousness, which while necessary in the process of perception and intellection, is itself manifest only when thinking or perceiving are going on (417a2ff; 1074b35ff).~'

.-- - - . -

36 See also the Republic 507ff.

37 Thus, as Kenneth Dorter has suggested to me, another way to look at this would be to think of a human being as analogous to a movie projector setup.

The lamp as maker intellect is the source of light which illuminates the film reels which represent the physical processes involved in perception and intellection. The images themselves are the finished products of both mind and perception (since they involve both the physical in terms of the film reel and the consciousness in terms of the light) that are unified and brought into focus by the lens which represents the self. The play of images on the screen not only represents the mental activities of the passive intellect, but also the It could be objected that Aristotle clearly thinks that the passive intellect is unaffected (429a15) and unmixed (429a18ff) too, and since the passive intellect does in fact take on and become the intelligible object, perhaps Kosman is right in thinking that 'nous is the psychic power so to be determined without relinquishing determinate identity.' But I think

Aristotle's point at 429a15 is to simply say that passive intellect is initially unaffected for if it has its own form, it would then be impossible for it to become identical with the intelligible object. A similar point is made in 429a18ff where Aristotle not only says that nous is (initially) unmixed otherwise 'the intrusion of anything foreign to it hinders and obstructs it ...,' but also that it is unmixed with the body, for otherwise it would have an organ and be of a certain kind, either hot or cold like a faculty of perception; but as things are it has none.

(b) At 430a23-26 Aristotle says in reference to the maker intellect that

(5.1) It does not sometimes think and sometimes not think. (5.2) When separated it is alone just what it is, and this alone is immortal and eternai (5.3) (we do not remember because, whiIe this is impassable, passive inteIlect is perishable); (5.4) and without this nothing thinks. Why does Aristotle say that passive intellect is perishable?

Aristotle has made clear in 429a29ff that passive intellect has no bodily accompaniment for if it did, then its functioning would be impaired by

actualization of all perception in the common sense (cf. Kahn 1979 and Kosman

1975). highly intelligible thoughts in the same way as the senses are impaired

when they perceive sounds or smells that are too intense. But in fact the

more intelligible the thought, the more efficient is the mind in the

thinking of lesser things. So if it is without body parts and distinct

(429b5),why is not immortal like the maker intellect? Part of the reason

seems to be, as pointed out in the previous section, that the passive

intellect depends on the images derived from perception, which are a

function of the imagination, as well as on memory and self (cf. Anal.

Post. II., c. 19 and Metaphysics A., C. I), all of which are a product of the

common sense located in the heart which is perishable (cf. Kahn 1979 pp.

7-15). So even if the passive intellect is not dependent on the body for its

being, it does depend on it for its function (see also 403a3ff). More

importantly, Aristotle seems to think that precisely because the passive

intellect is passable (unlike the maker intellect) that it is perishable. This

is why in the quote above Aristotle says in (5.3) that the maker intellect

(which is immortal as (5.2) points out) is impassive, whereas the passive

intellect is perishable, the point being that it is perishable because it isn't

impassive. Thus it is because the immortal maker intellect's activity in us

is that of conditioned consciousness, it has no memory, for memory, and therefore knowledge, can only be accessed through the passive mind which is perishable.38

38 This move also makes irrelevant what the 'this' in (4.4) is referring to. For it is true if it refers either to passive or maker inteitect since passive intellect

212 (c) If the activity of the maker intellect in us is simply one of

conditioned awareness or consciousness, then we can see what Aristotle

means in (5.1) when he says that it is always active. For consciousness is

necessary in all acts of perception and intellection. Even dream states

must involve consciousness since, since we are not only aware of our

dreams - which are the residual effects of sense perception on the

imagination (On Dreams 458b26ff) - but also of the fact that they are ours. It might be objected that in dreamless sleep there is no consciousness and so it's hard to see how maker intellect is always active.

In response we may say that since Aristotle thinks that consciousness is always consciousness of objects of thought or perception, the absence of objects does not imply that consciousness itself is not functioning; we just don't know that it is. For just as light is known by the objects it illuminates (including its source), consciousness is manifest only when there are objects to be aware of.

We are now perhaps in a position to see what human contemplation is all about. In NE VI.7 (1 141a16ff), as pointed out before, we are told that the better the object of thought, the better the thinking, which is why practical wisdom is not the best knowledge in the world since man is not the best thing in the world. Now God is the best object in the world, for

cannot think without the consciousness that is the maker intellect and the maker intellect cannot make thought possible without the cognitional apparatus culminating in the passive intellect. reasons already explained previously, and it would therefore be reasonable to think our best thinking or contemplation is a contemplation of God. Indeed these very sentiments are expressed in Lambda 7 when

Aristotle is explaining how God moves without being moved because he is the primary object of desire for every genus. For even though sometimes desire (which is for the apparently noble) seems contrary to wish (which is for the actually noble), the notion of the apparent good is itself not possible without that which is actually so (1072a24-30). In fact, as NE

111.4 and IX.4 make dear, for the good man, the object of wish and desire and therefore the apparent and actual good are the same. God himself is intelligible in the highest sense, for in general, substances are intelligible and he is the primary substance who exists as a simple and therefore most knowable actuality (1072a30-bl). Now since God is simple and consequently non-composite, as well as immaterial ( lO73a4- 13), his substance is not distinct from his essence. In De Anirnn 111.4 (430a5ff)

Aristotle tells us that in things which have no matter, that which thinks and that which is thought are the same when thinking is going on. So when we think of God, who is immaterial, then in a sense we become God.

39 I say 'in a sense' because such a transformation is the actualization of a

39 While it is true that the intelligible object and the thought are identicaI in all types of theoretical thinking (429b6ff), in the case of things with matter, e.g. frogs, the intelligible aspect is not identical with the frog, as pointed out earlier, but is the frog's intelligible aspect without the matter (430a5-9). But in

214 potentiality, namely the passive intellect, whereas there is no potentiality

associated with God's being and activity, which explains why Aristotle

thinks that there is not only a quantitative but a qualitative difference between God's contemplation and ours (1072b24-25, NE 1178b20-3;

1178b25-28 and Ross 1970 v. 2 pp. 380). Since it is the activity of the maker intellect or God in us that makes contemplation possible, this contemplation of God is the closest we can come to realizing the unconditioncd consciousness associated with God's being/activity conceived of as separate, which, 'in separation is just what it is, and this alone is immortal and eternal.' (430a23l4' For, the unconditioned

the case of God, who is without matter, substance is not distinct from essence.

Therefore he is identical to his intelligible aspect, and so when we think of God as intelligible, we become identical with him (cf. Joachim 1951 pp. 294-5).

JO In his discussion of why the friend is another self, Kahn (1981 pp. 35-37) suggests that because we all have a common Active Intellect (which he too equates with God), there is no difference between my happiness and my friend's, as we share the same intellect. As my reading of what human contemplation above makes clear, I don't think that happiness is the activity of the active intellect (at least for humans) but rather, of the passive intellect insofar as it emulates the activity of the active intellect. Hence Aristotle's point that we don't wish ourselves or our friends to become gods, for then we would no longer be ourselves but different beings (VIII.7 1159a5ff). It is also because Aristotle thinks theo'ria is the activity of the passive intellect that he suggests, as pointed out above, that human contemplation is Godlike and not 215 consciousness is that which makes knowledge possible, it itself is not

knowledge and therefore contemplating it too is not a form of

contemplating something that we know. Rather, our own contemplation is

ultimately the activity of consciousness since ours is a contemplation of

the Thinking Thinking Thinking.

If consciousness is a function of nous, and consciousness is a

necessary component of perception, then since animals have sensation in

varying degrees, must it not be the case they too share in nous? If so, is

this not inconsistent with Aristotle's position that only man among the

animals has intellect? It is true that Aristotle thinks only man has reason

(logos) and understanding/thinking (dianoia), which are denied to the other animals (414b33-415a14, 428a16-24), but nous itself is directly and indirectly attributed to the sensitive faculty, and hence to animals, in several places: (a) In Lambda 7 (1072b14ff), as noted before, Aristotle says that because God's activity, on which depend the heavens and nature, is pure bliss, waking perception and thinking are most pleasant. This

simply the activity of God. Finally, as Aristotle tells us in 1.6 (1096b32ff)

"...even if there is some one good which is universally predicable of goods, or is capable of separate and independent existence, clearIy it could not be achieved or attained by man; but we are now (i-e., in the context of the human good) seeking something attainable." So while contemplation of God is certainly attainable by humans, the human good doesn't consist in the activity of God, but rather, in Godlike activity. suggests that perception itself is not possible without nous. (b) Noetic elements are already involved in the perception of incidental objects (see

also Kahn 1979 and 1992). For instance, perceiving the son of Diares to be that white thing (where the white thing is the special object of sight) is to perceive Diares incidentally (418a20-24). But to make such a connection, some sort of judgment must be involved and in fact Aristotle suggests as much in a previous paragraph (4l8a 1 1-16). Indeed this need not be judgment in the sense of combining concepts such as 'Cleon7 and

'white' to produce statements like 'Cleon is white,' for such unifying ability is available only to the conceptual intellect (430a26-b6). A similar point is made in NE VI where Aristotle says that some animals have practical wisdom insofar as they '...have a power of foresight with regard to their own life.' (1 141a26-29) and while it is true that they do not have action (praxis), they must have nous or intuition which grasps the last variable fact (1 143b3-5) to know whether something is edible or not for instance. (c) While discussing how we distinguish the sweet from the white (426b17-23), Aristotle argues that they must be perceived as distinct to one faculty. If this was evident to two different faculties, then it would be no different from my perceiving one thing and you another.

Thus he says, "the same thing (i-e. the unified faculty of sense) then asserts this; hence, as it asserts so it both thinks (noei) and perceives"

(426b20-2 I)?'

41 See also Kosman 1992 pp. 356-357. Thus nous for Aristotle, as Kosman says (1992 p. 357), is

increasingly revealed in the scale of nature in its different manifestations as part of cognition and intellection, culminating in the activity of God as

pure unconditioned consciousness. Since all perceptual and intellectual activity is a manifestation of such consciousness but as conditioned, it is in a sense, a manifestation of God and the reason why Aristotle places so much emphasis on activity. God is therefore not only the final cause by being the object of desire insofar as all perceptual and rational activities imitate his, but also the efficient cause inasmuch as he is the primary source of change and activity in us and the constituent cause that makes such activity possible (Physics 11.3 194b24-33). 42 So while it is true that

" Many disagree that God in the Metaphysics is an efficient cause who is somehow immanent in the world. But there is textual evidence for such a position in Metaphysics Lambda I0 (1075a1 Iff) where Aristotle says that the highest good exists in the universe as separate and in the order of its parts just as a goodness is found in the order of the army as well as in its source, the general. Ross (1949 pp. 180-81) thinks this means goodness but not God is immanent in the world, for God is a substance and not an abstraction like order.

Thus God is not himself immanent in the world, but immanent insofar as he is the source of its order.

First, God is the highest good as Aristotle repeatedly tells us in Lambda

(e-g., 1072b11; 30; 1074a33 and 175a8). Second, Ross's reading is too narrow an interpretation of the analogy, for it assumes that the general as the source of order is never present in the field, which is false especially in battIes. Thus one 218 in sensation and intellection the presence of God is manifest, it is only in contemplating God that we become Godlike and therefore happy, a happiness that Aristotle says is available only to man and not to the other animals (1 178b25ff). Let us see if the Nicornachean Ethics will fully bear out this thesis.

reasonable way to read the analogy is to see that God as goodness is the source of order in the world not as an abstraction, but as immaterial substance, ultimately responsible for the basic configuration of perceptual and rational life. Chapter 6

Archdand Nous in the Nicomachean Ethics

I have suggested that while much of the NE (especially Book I) is

concerned with the ethical/political life that culminates in contemplation,

Aristotle discusses the6ria in X in terms of the philosophical life, based

primarily on considerations in VI. This does not mean that X disregards

the political-cum-contemplative life, since, as we saw in chapter 2, he

explicitly states that the political life aims at primary happiness as well, a

happiness different from the secondary happiness of the political life and

sought as different (X.8 1177b12-15). Much of chapter 3 was spent in

fleshing out the details of this important statement based on

considerations from the EE. In chapter 5, I suggested, mainly on the basis

of brief statements in Lambda, that human contemplation at the highest

level is of God. So far I have relied primarily on the Metaphysics and on

the EE and will show that the NE in fact endorses this position as well. In

this chapter therefore, I want to consider the philosophical life as it culminates in theorin and show that while such an ascent is theoretical

and therefore different from the practical one of the political life, both terminate in the same activity; i.e., the contemplation of God.

Aristotle agrees with Plato in thinking that there are two types of first principles (nrchai);those that are known more easily to us but not by 220 nature and those that are most knowable by nature, but not to us (1.4 1095 a31-b8; Physics 184a10-21). I suggest first that in Book VI, by 'archai known more easily to us' he means not only the ultimates (eschata), but also the universals (karholou) involved in scientific and practical reasoning. Second, that by 'archdmore knowable by nature' he means the principle of the world, God. Third, that regardless of the permutations and combinations that Aristotle presents us with of both kinds of archui, he thinks that all archai are grasped by acts of nous. This discussion also serves the purpose of filling out the details of how Aristotle thinks we make decisions to act morally in particular circumstances, a discussion that I began in chapter 3. I complete the discussion here rather than in that chapter mainly for exegetical reasons.

Aristotle tells us that practical wisdom is not scientific knowledge, for practical wisdom, aside from universals, is also concerned with the ultimates (eschata) by which he means not just the objects particular to one sense (e.g. the special object of sight is color), but with the object of unified perception in general (for which the common sense is responsible) that allows us to say that the figure before us is a triangle (VI.8 1142a24-

3 1)'. and which, as Aristotle tells us in VI. 11 (1 143b2) is also the minor

1 See chapter 5 section 1 for more on this distinction. Hardie 1980 pp. 233-4,

Grant 1885, Stewart 1895, and Greenwood 1909 ad loc. all agree that a specific triangle is in fact what is meant by 'eschaton.' though Cooper 1975 pp. 183-86

22 1 premise (heteras protaseos). Grant confirms this reading (Grant 1885 ad

loc. following the Paraphrast) when he points to An. Po. 1.1 (7lal lff)

where Aristotle uses the exact same example of a triangle as eschaton to

refer to a particular, observed triangle.

disagrees, for 'eschaton' literally means 'last' and in the several different

contexts it is used in besides the Ethics, refers to the last in the metaphysical

order of species, never individuals. The Greek can also be rendered 'This is not

the perception of special objects, but the sort by which we perceive that the last

among mathematical objects is a triangle ..." as it is in Irwin 1985. Ross,

following Bywater, excises en tois marhEmatikois which is crucial for Cooper's

reading. Cooper's position (39-40), in essence, is that Aristotle doesn't literally

mean perceiving, but rather that 'the agent sees what is the case' as in the case of seeing that a triangle is the last form into which a rectilinear figure can be divided. (This position originates with Burnet and is also held by Rackham in

his translation ad foc. note g and by Louden 1986 130-31). Ingenious as this solution is, I think that Aristotle's emphasis on the fact that it is perception not of qualities of a single sense but of perception in general - a clear reference to

De Anima's discussions on sense perception - distinctly indicate that he is not using perception in the sense of seeing as Cooper suggests but in a more literal sense (Miller 1984 p. 5 17 concurs), and Burnet (cf. Cooper p. 40 note 49), who offers a similar solution to Cooper's, plainly realizes. Louden (p. 131) thinks that perceiving the eschaton is done in the context of a larger conceptual framework, and this I think is true, as I: hope will become clear in Aristotle's example of chicken as healthy meat that I use in what follows. Now the perception of the individual triangle is not only responsible for the generation of the universal (katholou) in an individual in the process of acquiring knowledge - as we shall see - but is recognized as a triangle only when it is related to the universal 'triangle' in a person who already has acquired such knowledge (7 1a17ff). It is in this sense that practical wisdom is concerned with perception - perception in the wider sense of the word - that involves such an explicit connection between universal and individual thing and is in fact a function of nous; a perception, as we have seen, quite distinct from that of qualities peculiar to each sense (1 142a29-30), and which is an ultimate because no account or reason can be given for it (cf. Broadie 1991 p. 255).

Clearly the example Aristotle uses here is not the best one he could have thought of, for a triangle isn't the most obvious instance of a moral object, and he is interested in moral perception. But perhaps we can modify Aristotlers example and say instead that the perception that practical wisdom is concerned with is that perception that allows us to say, for example, that there is chicken before us. This, as we shall see, is more appropriate, for chicken as food is a concern of health and perhaps even of temperance.

By particulars (kath' hekastn) Aristotle means something different, as is clear in V1.7 (1 141b14-23). There he says that practical wisdom is not just knowledge of universal statements (katholou) such as 'light meats are wholesome,' but also requires knowledge of the particulars. The man

223 of experience is said not to have knowledge of universal statements, but does know that chicken is wholesome and is therefore more likely to produce health, even though he doesn't know why the chicken is wholesome, unlike a person (a young person, as Aristotle tells us later in

VI.8 1142al1-20) who is likely to know the universal but does not have experience and therefore does not seem to know which meats are light.

Such practical knowledge in the man of experience is produced, I take it, by noticing over the years that he feels better in general when he eats chicken as opposed to beef. The point here in any case seems to be that by particularity Aristotle means statements like 'chicken is a light meat' which, had he known in conjunction with the universal statement which he has access to, would have aliowed the young man to conclude with the practically wise and the man of experience, that 'chicken is wholesome."

Now Cooper (1975 pp. 28-31) agrees that kath' hekasta here refers to particular types rather than to particular things. In addition, he correctly points out that kath' hekasta can also refer to individual things

' Louden 1986 pp. 127-29 disagrees with Cooper (and hence with me in this context) that kath' hekasta can ever refer to particular types because it strains ordinary usage (for it normally means 'according to [the] each' or 'one by one.'

But he does not however account for Aristotle's use of kath' hekasta to refer to particular types in the chicken example and therefore does not directly confront

Cooper's or my position on this. See also Miller 1984 pp. 509-510 who holds a similar position to Louden's and does not confront this problem either. - as is the case in 111.3 11 12b33-1113a2 - which does not mean that

Aristotle's usage, at least outside Book VI, is inconsistent but rather context dependent. I suggest that Aristotle in Book VI uses 'escharon' to refer to the individual thing in contrast to the individual type rather than cause confusion by using 'kath' hekasta' for both. The one exception in

VI is when Aristotle uses ton kath' hekaston (singular) to refer to what is obviously the ultimate perceptible thing when he says "...error in deliberation may be about the universal statement or about the particular; we may fail to know either that all water that weighs heavy is bad, or that this particular (ton kath' hekaston) water weighs heavy." (VI.8 1142a20-

23) Cooper (1975 pp. 28-29) uses 1141b14-23 to support his claim that this reference to kath' hekaston is to a particular type of heavy water e.g., stagnant water for instance. But I think Irwin (in Cooper p. 30 note 34) is right in suggesting that all the references to particular types are in the plural in VI (i-e., ta kath' hekastn), whereas this reference in 1142a20-23 is in the singular, and does in fact refer to the individual thing and not to the type.

Getting back to the point then, Aristotle's assertion in Z L41b14-23 may seem to be a bit odd; after all, if the young have knowledge of universal statements like 'light meats are wholesome,' it surely isn't much of a leap to acquire, in a similar fashion, statements like 'chicken is a light meat.' But Aristotle's point is not that such knowledge cannot come from theoretical sources, but that it usually comes from experience (cf.

225 Miller 1984 pp. 5 18-1 9), a point whose importance for Aristotle, if only because he constantly repeats it, cannot be overemphasized (e.g. VI.8

1142a12ff 1.3 1095a2ff). His point seems to me to be this: recognizing that eating chicken over the years has made one feel better than say eating beef - even though the latter tastes better - requires a certain sort of sensitivity to the well-being of one's body that not all people have, especially if they are not brought up to think in terms of the importance of health. Knowledge of universal statements like 'light meats are healthy,' on the other hand, is not something that we can have simply from experience, but usually requires some background knowledge of nutrition and medicine. Similarly, an experienced man knows that it is good to be temperate but not necessarily why it is good, which is the provenance of the practically wise man. Not only that, both must know which situations call for acts of temperance (as opposed to health, for instance); what quantities and kinds of food constitute the mean for that person and what constitutes excess, all of which not only requires a moral sensitivity and good upbringing, but time and experience to bring to perfection.

A11 this is of course rooted in the eschata, for while we don't simply perceive what to do, we cannot make decisions about what to do without knowing the ultimate things; i.e., the particular circumstances which are determined by perception of the eschata (11.9 1109blOff), and how in fact they relate to the kath' hekasta. Such moral sensitivity also tempers which eschata get picked out. One of the problems with moral

226 action is that situations in which it is required are often complex and it is usually difficult to determine where to begin (and ultimately where to end) our deliberations on the thing to be done. It is only if one is inclined to act morally and is tempered by experience, that one begins to know which eschata are relevant to moral action and which are not5 (cf. 17 below), and the reason why Aristotle says that some archai are acquired by habituation (1.7 1098b1-4). Thus a youth may know, for instance, that temperance is a virtue and a mean between the excess and defect with regard to certain bodily pleasures, but what constitute appropriate situations and actions comes only with time and experience (cf. Miller

1984 pp. 515-16).

Aristotle therefore seems to suggest that eschaton and kath' hekasta are very closely related, the former being of a more particular nature than the latter. For 'kath' hekasta' are the facts; 'Chicken is wholesome,' whereas to escharon has to do with the contents of immediate perception from which deliberation begins and ends4 (111.1 1 1 13al-2); 'there is

Hence I disagree with Shiner 1979 p. 82 when he says that the moral agent

"..immediately sees by nous the essential ethical demands of his situation."

Nous does pick out the eschata but the ethical demands of a situation are mediated by ta kath' hekast~zas we shall see in a moment.

1 Deliberation begins in the following way: I am at a lunch barbecue at which I. perceive all these different varieties of meat (chicken, beef, pork, fish, etc.) before me. Being hungry and at the same time health conscious, I am inclined 227 cooked chicken and beef before us,' allowing the temperate to conclude

from this that the thing to do would be to eat the chicken. Thus eating the

chicken would then be an action and therefore an ultimate thing

(eschaton) to be done (VI.8 114lb24-28; VI. I1 1143a35).'

Some scholars (Stewart 1895 vol. 2 p. 72 following Ramsaur, and

Cooper 1975 for instance) don't think that there is this distinction between

eschaton and kath' hekasta that I draw, and think that the terms refer to

one and the same thing; i.e. the ultimate particular. There is some basis

for this position and it comes from the fact that Aristotle runs the two

terms together in an important passage in VI. 11, the consideration of

which will also require us to see how Aristotle understands the process of

to eat in a healthy manner. I know that light meats are wholesome and that

chicken is a light meat, and since I have already seen the chicken, I decide to eat it. Deliberation thus begins in the actual perceiving of the food (the actual

context of the action) and ends in it as well (in the actual decision to eat the

food).

5 I will not concern myself with whether this so-called practical syllogism is

part of the process of deliberation or not, or whether it is in fact a practical syllogism, but see Cooper 1975 p. 23ff, Hardie 1980 chapters 11 and 12 and

Miller 1984 for a detailed discussion of the issue. My own feeling is that deliberation includes the practical syllogism that culminates in action, though I don't think a11 deliberation is necessarily in the Form of sylIogistic reasoning.

228 acquisition of universals by the human mind. But first, some preliminaries.

The presentation of how universals are acquired occurs, appropriately, in An. Po. (11.19) and is presupposed in the NE Aristotle tells us that the process of apprehending the universal, both practical and theoretical, begins in perception, but only in humans. For while other animals have the capacity of retention or memory, they don't have the capacity for apprehending the universal. In humans, memory allows for the amalgamation of several similar instances to be unified into a single experience or emperia (99b35-100a9). Thus perceiving several instances of animals over time instills, Aristotle thinks, the primitive universal

'animal' in the mind by the process of induction (epagoge) (100bl-5).

(The language of experience here, which we have already seen in the context of kath' hekasta, suggests that Aristotle is saying that universals are not directly derived from the ultimates or eschaton - but is mediated by kath' hekasta - and is confirmed, as we shall see, in the NE) Now scientific knowledge (epistEmE) and intuition (nous) always grasp the truth, whereas opinion does not, for it can be wrong. Thus universals

(katholou), whose veracity is self-evident, must be objects of epistt?m%or nous. They cannot be objects of epistEmb because scientific knowledge involves demonstration, whereas universals are the basis of demonstration. Therefore, the only alternative is that universals are objects of nous (lUOb6- 17). The Nicomachean position on universals confirms this brief outline and provides further corroboration of the relation of ultimates and particulars is presented in the above-mentioned crucial and controversial passage in NE VI.11 which I present in full:

(1) Now all the states we have considered converge, as might be expected, on the same point; (2) for when we speak of judgement and understanding and practical wisdom and intuitive reason (nous) we credit the same people with possessing judgement and having reached years of reason and with having practical wisdom and understanding. (3) For all these faculties deal with ultimates and with particulars;6(4) and being a man of understanding and of good or sympathetic judgement consists in being able to judge about the things with which practical wisdom is concerned; (5) for the equities are common to all good men in relation to other men. (6) Now all things which have to be done are included among particulars and7 ultimates; (7a) for not only must the man of practical wisdom know particular facts, (7b) but understanding and judgement are also concerned with things to be done, and these are ultimates. (8) And intuitive reason is concerned with the ultimates in both directions; (9) for both the first terms (horos) and the last (t& eschath) are objects of intuitive reason and not of argument, (10) and the intuitive reason which is presupposed by demonstrations grasps the unchangeable and first terms, (1 1) while the intuitive reason involved in practical reasoning grasps the ultimate thing (eschatou), i.e. the minor premise (heteras protasee). (12) For these the ultimate things are the starting-points for the apprehension of the end: since the universals are reached from the

6 Instead of Ross's "...deals with ultimates i.e., with the particulars.' The

Greek reads ' ... ton kath' hekaston eisi kai t6n eschatih.'

7 Replacing 'and' for 'or' in Ross's translation of kai. The 'or' suggests that the ultimates and particulars are the same thing whereas in what follows in 7a and b, it is clear that Aristotle is giving separate explanations for why both have to do with what is to be done. More on this in a moment.

8 The Greek says "archai gar tou hou heneka autai - ek t6n kath ' hekasta gar to katholou which Cooper (p. 42 note 52) transIates as "For these are the starting

230 particulars; (13) of these [i.e., the ultimate things or eschata] therefore we must have perception, and this perception is intuitive reason. (14) This is why these states are thought to be natural endowments-why, while no one is thought to be a philosopher by nature, people are thought to have by nature judgement, understanding, and intuitive reason. (15) This is shown by the fact that we think our powers correspond to our time of life, and that a particular age brings with it intuitive reason and judgement; this implies that nature is the cause. (16) (Hence intuitive reason is both beginning (arche and end (telos); for demonstrations are points for the end in view; for universals come from particulars." Cooper doesn't think that Ross's translation -apprehension of the end' is appropriate - even though he recognizes that it must be so rendered in 1139b28-29 - because it does not fit the context here. In fact he thinks Aristotle means the starting points from which an end is achieved. Thus perceiving chicken is a starting point to achieve the more universal end in view of consuming light and healthful meats. It seems to me that Aristotle is not talking here of achieving an end but rather grasping it. Cooper's rendition of 11 for instance as 'intuitive understanding in practical arguments having to do with what is ultimate ..." allows him to talk in terms of achievement. It is also on the basis of this text that Cooper says (p. 58ff) that the ends of action are intuited. Such an interpretation is possible given that notis is a enough of a multifaceted word to mean intention or attainment of some end (cf. Liddell and Scott 1889 p. 535).

But this usage is hardly consistent with Aristotle's use of it in Book VI both in chapters 6 and 8 where he uses it in the context of grasping rather than achieving. Cooper (p. 34) himself translates it as such in his rendition of V1.8

1142a23-30: "For intellect (nous) is of the [highest] terms, which are not objects of discursive thought (logos)..." Hence I also disagree with Cooper (pp.

62-4) that it is nous and not virtue that apprehends the end. For a detailed justification of my position, see chapter 3 sections 1-3. from these and about these.) (17) Therefore we ought to attend to the undemonstrated sayings and opinions of experienced and older people or of people of practical wisdom not less than to demonstrations; for experience has given them an eye they see aright. (1 143a.25-b 14) I will discuss the ultimatelparticular relation first. The crucial point

here is that (contrary to Ross's translations of 3 and 6) it is quite clear

Aristotle thinks that 'ten knth' hekaston' and 't6n eschaton' are not the

same. Otherwise it is hard to see how 7a and 7b could not simply be

saying the same thing, which in fact they are not. For 7a says that the man

of practical wisdom must know the particular facts (t6n kath' hekaston);

i-e., he must know that chicken is wholesome and that one should eat it -

as opposed to say, eating beef - whereas 7b is concerned with the actual

doing of the action, the actual choice of eating this portion of chicken and

therefore with the ultimate thing or eschaton.

We are now in a position to see what Aristotle means in 8-1 1 that

nous grasps the ultimates in both directions. Horos or first terms in 9 and

10, which are grasped by nous, is best interpreted as a reference to the

universals, which Aristotle in his technical discussions says is a limit (cf.

Joachim p. 213 and Stewart 1892 ad loc.), for it is the basis of argument

and therefore not subject to argument but grasped by nous, as we saw above.9 This is confirmed by the fact that in a similar vein in 12, Aristotle

9 This usage of 'horos' is different from the one in VI.1 1138b18-34 and which

Ross renders as 'standard,' as Peterson I988 p. 242 note 18 correctly points out. Miller 1984 pp. 5 13-14 translates 'horos' in VI. 11 as 'primary bounding

232 calls the universals ends that are reached from the particulars.1° But now we are told in 11 that nous also grasps the eschaton which is equated with the minor premise,'1whereas in VI.8 (1 142a23-30) Aristotle clearly tells

principles' and hence a reference to the whole major premise of a syllogism rather than to its components as I do, following Joachim and Stewart 1892 ad loc. I think the universal is meant here because it is the basic building block of the major premise and needs to be grasped before the major premise can be understood, and is therefore what Aristotle means when he says that it is an ultimate.

I0 Given that Aristotle in the past specifically gives the triangle example in the context of grasping the particulars, it is quite clear, as it is in the Posterior

Analytics, that such universals are both practical and scientific. In fact, the other example that Aristotle uses in this context is of chicken (VI.7 1 14 I b I4-

20), and this can clearly be seen as an example of a scientific universal insofar as we are interested in the species of chicken for instance, or a practical one when we think of the chicken as healthy meat. Thus Broadie 1991 p. 243 is mistaken when she says that Aristotle '...denies that practical nous has universals as its objects.' especially since Aristotle specifically tells us in V1.7

1141b14ff that practical wisdom is not simply concerned with universals but with particulars also.

" Cooper (pp. 42-43) thinks that the reference to the minor premise is a reference to a particular type; e.g , this is chicken is a recognition of a this as chicken. But given that eschaton, which is here specifically equated with the minor premise as I have shown in footnote 1, is the particular thing perceived, 233 us that while nous does in fact grasp the universal, it is perception which

is opposed to this kind of noetic grasping that in fact comprehends the

particular such as 'this is a triangle.' Are VI.8 and VI. 11 inconsistent? I

suggest not. First, I have already suggested that 'this is a triangle' in VI.8

is in fact the minor premise that Aristotle is talking about in VI.11 (#I1

above). Second, he seems in VI.8 to be interested in contrasting the kind

of non-inferential comprehension involved in the grasping of universals as

opposed to that involved in the act of perception, but does not deny, as is

clear in 13, that perception itself is a noetic activity.12 Nor should we be

surprised at this, for as we have seen in chapter 5 section 2, it is quite

clear that Aristotle does think all perception involves nous, whether it be

in humans or in other animals.

Thus nous grasps not only the last thing in the act of perception, but

also the first or the universal. How this happens is explained in 12 and 13.

In 12 he tells us that universals are reached from the particulars since the

ultimate things are the starting point. Aristotle has already explained how

we get particulars such as 'chicken is healthy' from experience which

obviously involves eating chicken in the past and therefore involves dealings with the ultimate things. Such experience of particulars is also

and not a type, it is quite clear that the minor premise is, as we would normally take it to mean, a reference to a particular object of perception.

"Cf. Hardie 1980 p. 230 who agrees. the source of universals such as 'chicken,' as we are told in An. Po. 11.19,

and it is in this sense that the ultimates are the starting points of the

universals.

As is clear then, there is nothing in VI. 11 that is contrary to

Aristotle's position on the acquisition of universals, the perception of

ultimates and the knowledge of particulars in either the NE or in the

Posrerior Analy~ics.The one puzzling feature about the above passage is

16, which most commentators think is misplaced (cf. Ross's and

Rackham's trans. ad loc. for instance). Rackham tentatively suggests that

16 should follow 13 but does not explain why; one possible reason for such a placement may be because 16 - which states that nous is both beginning and end, as demonstrations are from and about these - seems to be a repetition of the conclusion of the argument, stated in 8 and proved in 9-13, that nous grasps the ultimates in both directions. I think the placement of 16 after 13 is right but for different reasons.

We have seen that by LO Aristotle means that nous not only grasps the ultimate or last thing in perception, but also the first terms of arguments, or universals. It is in this sense then that nous grasps the ultimates in both directions. But 16 seems to be saying something quite different. While it is true that nous does grasp the universal, and therefore is what is meant by Aristotle's assertion that nous grasps the beginning of the argument from which demonstration proceeds, demonstration is not about eschaton and therefore cannot be what Aristotle means when he

235 says that demonstration is about these. For proof is not about this particular piece of chicken in front of me. Another suggestion is that demonstrations proceed from universals and are about universals and that this is what is meant in 16. The problem with this suggestion is that then it is hard to see how the universal about which the whole argument is, is grasped by nous as 16 so clearly says it is, for the conclusion - which is a judgement - of an argument is grasped by the force of logic and not the force of intuition (cf. Joachim 1962 p. 193). I suggest therefore that what

Aristotle means is this: having clearly established in VI. I1 that nous grasps the universals, he concludes, basing his position on VI.6 and 7, that since nous grasps the highest objects of science and therefore of demonstration, nous grasps both beginning (i.e., from which the argument proceeds) and end (telos);i.e., God. Let me explain what I mean.

In VI.6 (1 140b3 1- 1141a8) Aristotle says the following:

(18) Scientific knowledge is judgement about things that are universal and necessary, and the conclusions of demonstration, and all scientific knowledge, follow from first principles (for scientific knowledge involves reasoning). (19) This being so, the first principle from which what is scientifically known follows cannot be an object of scientific knowledge, of art, or of practical wisdom; (20) for that which can be scientifically known can be demonstrated, and art and practical wisdom deal with things that are variable. (21) Nor are these first principles the objects of philosophic wisdom, for it is a mark of the philosopher to have demonstration about some things. (22) If, then, the states of mind by which we have truth, and are never deceived about things invariable or even variable, are scientific howledge, practical wisdom, philosophic wisdom, and intuitive reason, and it cannot be any of the three (i.e. practical wisdom, scientific knowledge, or philosophic wisdom), the remaining alternative is that it is intuitive reason (noun) that grasps the first principles. This interesting passage does bring to mind another one summarized

above from An. Po. 11.19 where Aristotle shows, by a comparable process

of elimination, that it is nous that grasps the primitive universals. Given

that Aristotle is interested here in the first principles from which all

scientific knowledge follows, it woilld seem that here, as in the Posterior

Analytics, he is interested in the universals and therefore in the basis of

all scientific knowledge. The clincher, or so it seems, comes from the fact

that in both places Aristotle tells us that it is nous that grasps the first

principle (cf. Stewart and Joachim ad loc.). But we must, as Aristotle tells

us (1.7 1095a31-b8), following Plato, take care to see if we are going from or to first principles. I suggest that while in the Posterior Analytics,

Aristotle is clearly talking of first principles from which we begin, in

V1.6 he is talking of archgto which epistFmE1eads us, arche that we grasp by nous. 13

First, ~ristotleby this point has already told us in VI.3 that the universals on which the syllogism and hence scientific knowledge is based are acquired by induction, and that therefore induction is the starting point of scientific knowledge (1 139b28-31). So it would be odd for him to make the same point again in VI.6. The fact that Aristotle in VI.3 refers

13 See Generation of Animals 732b29-36 where Aristotle presents a similar position without saying that it is nous that does the grasping, but rather something else other than discursive thinking. us to the Analytics for the details of the process of how universals are

acquired, but does not do so in VI.6 also suggests that this brief chapter is

in fact not about the acquisition of universals.

Second, that he is in fact talking of archB to which epistEm8leads

us becomes clearer in VI.7. Here, Aristotle tells us that by wisdom or

sophia he means not just the particular kinds of knowledge, but wisdom in

general which is the most finished form of knowledge and that "therefore

wisdom must be intuition combined with knowledge - knowledge of the

highest objects which has received as it were its proper completion [or

more literally, knowledge having as it were a head or crown (kephaZEn)]."

(1 141a9-19). Now in our discussion of Metaphysics Lambda we saw that

God is the highest object by nature, who is nothing but the immaterial act

of Thought Thinking Thought (cf. chapter 5). If sophia, which is a

combination of intuition and scientific knowledge, is knowledge of the

highest immaterial object God - and this seems clearly to be indicated by

talk of the kephal6.s or head (cf. Stewart 1895 v.2 p. 52, Joachim 1962 pp.

213 and 294-5, and Hardie 1980 pp. 227 and 337-3914) - then it is hard to see how the act of nous meant here can be either the grasping of the ultimate thing, or even of the universal derived from the particulars (both

14 Though Hardie has problems with such a notion of contemplation. More on his objections in a moment. of which have to do with perception) as God, being immaterial, is not the

object of perception.

Later in this chapter (1 l4 la33ff), Aristotle suggests that

astronomical objects are objects of sophia, so how then is it possible to say that it is God who is the object of nous as I suggest? I think the answer lies in the quote presented above from 1 141a16-19, for Aristotle tells us sophia is a combination of epistEmEand nous where e-pist&nEis of the highest objects - which I agree are objects of science - but that such knowledge has to be completed or crowned (note the use of the singular here) in the appropriate manner by God, and it is God then who I take to be grasped by the intuitive act of nous.

That it is God who is in fact the object of nous is also suggested by the following passage in X.4 (1 174b14-20):

Since every sense is active in relation to its object, and a sense which is in good condition acts completely in relation to the most beautiful (kalliston) of its objects (for complete activity seems to be especially of this nature; whether we say that it is active, or the organ in which it resides, may be assumed to be immaterid), it follows that in the case of each sense the best activity is that of the best-conditioned organ in relation to the finest (kratiston) of its objects. And this activity will be the most complete and pleasant. First, this tells us not only that an activity is best when the organ of which it is an activity is in good condition, but suggests that the activities themselves are ranked according to object and subject of the activity. This is expanded somewhat a few pages later at the beginning of X.7 where

Aristotle says that happiness is the activity of the highest virtue which is of the best thing in us and is concerned with things that are noble and divine which are the best of knowable objects (1 177a11-21). It would

seem reasonable then to say that for Aristotle the combination of the

highest human faculty (nous) in its best condition (cf. chapter 4 on this),

concerned with the highest object of thought (God), would be the blissful

activity of happiness.

In response, it may be retorted that all of us do not have the

intuition of God as first principle yet we certainly use the concept or

universal 'God;' for instance, when someone says that 'God is good,'

where 'God' is defined as an omnipotent, omni-benevolent, and

omniscient being. If this much is conceded, then it is easy to see that

such an argument can lead us to deny that first principles in VI.8 have

anything to do with the contemplation of God and must mean something quite different. Second, it is not clear, as Hardie (1980 p. 339 quoting

Bradley) points out, why "...in the inteilectual world work done on higher

subjects is for that reason higher work." But to go down that road I think

is to miss a very important point that Aristotle is making here: the concept 'God' is not what Aristotle means when he says that one intuits or grasps such a first principle; for to so grasp it is to know it indubitably to the extent that all knowledge of the world follows from it. This is why

Aristotle tells us in the Metaphysics (1.2 982a20-b10) that knowing all things involves having universal knowledge of the highest degree, for knowing this results in knowing subordinate things. Such knowledge is of

first principles that are most knowable even though they are hardest for men to know since they are furthest from the senses. Hence to have such knowledge is to be a sophos for it is to have knowledge, not in some specialized way, but to have knowledge in the most complete and general form.

This is why nous is of all archai. For we begin with what is available to us in perception as we have seen already; after all, knowledge of the necessary and universal originates here. And as the Posterior

Anaiytics confirms, one requires intuition of the first principles or universals in order to have episteme'at all. In fact Aristotle even thinks that epistEmEitself leads to, and is ultimately about God, as can clearly be seen in his attempts to prove the existence of the Unmoved Mover in

Metaphysics Lambda. But this does not mean that an individual with such knowledge is a sophos; such an appellation is reserved for those who grasp not only the beginnings from which demonstration arise, but also intuit the arch5 which demonstration is ultimately about.

I have already suggested in chapter 5 that the5ria is of God, and now I would like to tie all the things I have said here regarding intuition, sophia and science with the notion of contemplation. If thecria is of God, and it is by the act of intuition that we comprehend God, then it is clear that the6rin is an act of nous in its intuitive functionIs and not simply the

straightforward actualization of sophia. This is why in ail his discussions

of what contemplation is in X.7 and 8, Aristotle emphasizes the fact that

it is a noetic activity, by which I take him to mean specifically its

intuitive and not its discursive function (dianoia).Hence he says that 'the

activity of nous, which is contemplative, seems both to be superior in

worth and to aim at an end beyond itself ..." l6 .

Sophia then is the knowledge that the wise man has which is grounded in certainty as sure as his perception. Thecria is the activity that grounds this certainty at the highest level. Thus when Aristotle says with regard to sophia that it is better to know than to be in the process of knowing (1 177a25-26), he doesn't necessarily mean that all that is known is included in the activity of contemplation, but rather that one who so contemplates is the only one who can really be called a knower, since he has intimate knowledge of the first principle from which all else follows.

It is because happiness is the contemplation of the first principle of the

15 I specify 'the intuitive function of nous' because, after all, nous, aside from being involved with perception, is the source of all rational thought for

Aristotle including demonstration and scientific knowledge.

16 See also for instance 1 l77al4, 1 I77a2I and 1 l77b3O which also use the locution of nous. Ross in his translation misleads when he translates 'nous' as

'reason' and this is rectified to some extent in the Revised Oxford translation which uses 'intellect.' world that it is itself called a first principle, something that is complete, prized and divine (1.12 i102aI-4). Hence Aristotle tells us that human contemplation is the activity most akin to God's (X.8 1178b21-23), and as we have seen in chapter 5 (based on Metaphysics Lambda), God's activity is a contemplation of his own self. Therefore, human contemplation, if it is to resemble God's, must also be of God.

Of course there are other forms of contemplation ranging from the study (thea'rein) involved in the learning of crafts (IV.4 1140all-12), and contemplation of the actions of our friends (IX.9 1169b33ff). The fact that

Aristotle uses the term in this latter sense makes it reasonable to suppose that one could use it to say, for instance, that one contemplates one's notes before giving a lecture, or even that one contemplates one's knowledge of the heavens (cf. Kraut 1989 pp.73-77). But this (pace

Eriksen 1976 pp. 84-95) is not thecrria that God partakes in and the one that humans imitate, for it is only such theoretic activity that Aristotle equates with blissful happiness.

Further confirmation that contemplation is a function of non- discursive intuition comes from the fact that there is an obvious connection between theo'ria and nous. 'Theo'ria' in its most literal sense means 'to look, view or behold' and nous for Aristotle we have already seen is in fact involved in perception and the grasping of particulars. It is not unreasonable therefore to suggest that the theoria that Aristotle has in mind here is a kind of seeing that is made possible by a similar perceptive

act of nous at the other end.

Aristotle thus consistentIy holds the highest form of contemplation

to be of God. In Metaphysics Lambda he says that God's activity is

Thought Thinking Thought (1074b15-34) and since human activity is such

that we can at best enjoy for a brief time (1072b1415), it must be the case

that human activity of contemplation is also of God. The EE is much more

explicit and says, as we have already seen in chapter 3, that contemplation

is of God (VII. 15 1249b 10ff). And finally, that the Nicomachean position

is also the same albeit not as obvious, as I have been at pains to show, I

hope successfully.

Before I conclude, let me briefly recapitulate some of the questions

and answers regarding problems in the Aristotelian ethical treatises that I

have discussed in this work:

The principal motive force was of course problems with the

exclusive position: (la) Life can't be about the satisfaction of a single desire, but rather about many desires. (lb) If eudaimonia is thecria, why spend so little time on it in the NE and so much on the practical virtues?

(lc) The theoretic life seems to require few external goods whereas prior books suggest that a full complement of external goods are required for ercdaimonia. All these things have suggested to scholars that X.7-8 are an anomaly or an insertion, and not Aristotle's considered position on eudaimonia. (2) To continue in the same vein, practical virtues are said to be ends in themselves but if the6ria is the final end, then the practical virtues become means to contemplation and are not really ends in themselves.

This is avoided in the inclusive reading which makes practical virtues ends in themselves by being parts of the final end of eudaimonia. Also, since it is the practically wise man who sees the end of man, it must be the case that the demotion accorded to practical virtue cannot be

Aristotle's considered position in the NE.

(3) If thecria is an incommensurably better activity, why would a contemplator do anything else but contemplate? And why would s/he not act immorally to further contemplation?

(4) Thecria seems to be a boring activity, for it would seem that striving for, as opposed to gazing at, knowledge is far more interesting work. Also, this is open only to the philosopher whereas an inclusive conception is open to all citizens.

Yet, all these reasons to the contrary, the gathering consensus has been, I suggested, that the exclusive reading is the one that Aristotle holds. But there is still a general sense of unease, for the heroes of Book I and X are different: of the former, a Priam or Pericles and hence a citizen-politician and of the latter, an Anaxagoras or a citizen- philosopher. In addition, what is the point of equating happiness with this rather boring activity of contemplation? What I suggested therefore is if we see that both the heroes can be

contemplators - though how this is achieved is different for the two lives

- all of the above raised problems can be solved. This maintains the

exclusive reading and explains the intuitions that the practically virtuous

life can be the best one too. In the practical life, there is more practical

virtue, whereas in the philosophical one this is to some extent substituted

by the search for knowledge

(la) Thus the life of eudaimonia is the satisfaction of many desires where as the primary activity of ertdairnonia is that of contemplation. This explains how eudaimonia can be about the satisfaction of a single desire.

(lb) Aristotle spends as much time as he does on practical activity because it is the primary duty of citizens to be practical virtuous.

Secondly, much of the NE is concerned with the practically wise life as it leads to eudaimonia and it is only in VI and X that the philosophical life is discussed. Finally I proposed that the external goods scenario can be made consistent if we see that there are different requirements for the different lives; more for the political and less for the philosophical, which reconciles the seemingly contradictory claims made regarding external goods in Books I and X.

(2) With regards to how practical virtue can be an end in itself and yet a means to contemplation, I suggested that practical virtue is not a means to thecria insofar as it is undertaken for its own sake and not for the sake of thecria, though the6ria does indeed result from such activity and is

246 therefore its ultimate source of value. This is explained in terms of

functioning well which involves acting virtuously, which in turn results in

the6ria in the way that well-functioning sub-ocular processes result in

sight. But, it is normally objected, isn't thecrria of philosophy? So what

possible connection could practical virtue have to contemplation? First, I

pointed out that we need a certain level of internal harmony for the5ria

that is provided by virtue- Second, the5ria is of God or the divine Kalon

who is essentially connected with our nature insofar as he makes the

activities of perception and intellection possible, a connection that I

explain in detail in chapter 5. The connection to practical virtue comes in

terms of actions that are themselves noble and therefore are practical

manifestations of the divine Kalon, something that becomes more and

more evident to the practically wise man in the course of his moral life.

(3) The philosophical life we saw, on the other hand, also requires

virtue for the internal harmony that it provides. Also, this internal

harmony cannot be provided by any other means such as drugs for even if

it were possible to do so, such an individual would not be interested in

thecrria for itself but for reasons of gain, fame, etc.

(4) Next, I proposed that thecria is of God, but more importantly, it is

an activity where we become one with God, where God's activity is a

contemplation of himself understood to be the activity of pure,

unconditioned consciousness. It is because contemplation is an activity where we become one with God that Aristotle thinks it is the best of all

247 human activities. Finally, I showed that contemplation is of God in the NE and not just in the EE and the Metaphysics.

Some final thoughts on contemplation and the good life. Many have found contemplation and a life centered around it an implausible candidate for the good life. So for instance, Reeve (1992 pp. 195-6) has remarked:

Imagine for a moment a marginalized intellectual, who has been engaged in philosophy and the intellectual Iife since his teens, and is almost entirely lacking in political power and influence, sitting down to determine what the best kind of life and the best kind of polis are. Imagine that and you have to a large degree imagined Aristotle in his ethics and politics class in the Lyceum. For Aristotle entered Plato's Academy at the age of 17, stayed there for twenty years, and spent almost his entire adult life either there or in the Lyceum. Moreover, he was a metic - a resident alien - in Athens and was barred from playing an active role in Athenian political Iife. Since people often recoup in fantasy what they lack in reality, is it any wonder that he and his fellow philosophers 'discovered' that their values are the true ones and that an ideal polis would recognize this and make philosophers rulers? ...[ But this objection]. ..is also one to which Aristotle has an answer. For, on his view, it is only if science and dialectic underwrite the philosopher's experience that his experience has any probative force.. . The net effect of it, however, is that Aristotle's conclusions about primary eudaimonia become hostage to history and to advances in science and dialectic. It is a fate shared with dl the findings of nascent science and nascent dialectic. It is because science is thought to have made obsolete AristotIe's ideas regarding the primacy of the6ria and at the same time leaves untouched for all practical intents and purposes Aristotle's conception of moral virtue, that the inclusive reading gained so much popularity so quickly. But while the gathering consensus in the scholarly community appreciated the motivation for such a reading, it became difficult to attribute to Aristotle such a position, as I have shown, not simply because of considerations based on the Ethics, but because of Aristotle's central position on the nature of God's activity and the repercussions it has for man and world in general.

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