The Fabric of Character. Aristotle's Theory of Virtue

The focus of this book is Artistotle's theory of virtue. Unlike traditional accounts of Aristotelian virtue, Nancy Sherman claims that excellence of character is not a merely habituated, affective state, but a state constituted by the operations of practical reason. In particular, she considers four aspects of practical reason as they relate to character: namely, moral perception, choicemaking, collaboration, and the development of those capacities in moral education. The inclusion of moral perception as a moment of practical reason suggests that an adequate account of practical reason begins not with the question, how should I act given some end, but rather with the acknowledgement that some end is here and now relevant to the particulars. Composing the scene is thus as much a part of the projection of character as deciding how ultimately to act. And this, Sherman argues, has been ignored in traditional accounts of the practical syllogism. In both deciding what to do and how to construe circumstances, our capacities are enlarged by the collaborative efforts of others with whom we share a life. This social dimension has a place in moral education, but more generally, in the planning and living out of a good life. Finally, the account of character has implications for Aristotle's theory of moral education. Contrary to the popular interpretation in which ethical habituation is non-rational, Sherman's claim is that the cognitive skills requisite for mature character are cultivated earlier on as a part of the shaping of emotions and desires. Throughout the arguments of this book, the author is sensitive to contemporary moral debates, and indicates the extent to which Artistotle's account of practical reason provides an alternative to theories of impartial reason.

Nancy Sherman is Associate Professor of Philosophy, Yale University.

Jacket illustration by Meryl Friedman Blinder

THE FABRIC OF CHARACTER

The Fabric of Character ARISTOTLE'S THEORY OF VIRTUE

N aney Sherman

CLARENDONPRESS·OXFORD 19 8 9

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Oxford is a trade mark of Oxford University Press Published in the United States by Oxford University Press, New York

©

Nancy Sherman 1989

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Oxford University Press British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Sherman, Nancy Thefabric of character: Aristotle's theory of virtue. I. Ethics. Theories of Aristotle, 384-322 B.C. 1. Title 17 0 '.9 2 ' 4 ISBN 0-1,)-824451-7 Library of Congress Catliloging in Publication Data Sherman,Nancy,I951Thefabric of character: Aristotle's theory of virtue I Nancy Sherman. Includes index. I. Aristotle-Ethics. 2. Virtue-History. 3. Character-History. 1. Title. B491. V57S52 1989 171'.3-dc19 88-29109 CIP ISBN 0-19-824451-7 Set by Oxford Text System Printed in Great Britain at the University Printing House, Oxford by David Stanford Printer to the University

For M arshall

PREFACE

ARISTOTLE'S ethical theory has enjoyed a resurgence of interest of late. The ancient idea that ethical theory is about how to lead a good life, and that such a life will express the emotions as well as reason, has found a sympathetic ear in many. I am among these, and the aim of this work is to capture the way in which the sentiments and p.ractical reason together constitute character. The work, in some sense, began life as a thesis submitted for my Ph.D. at Harvard in 1982. At the time, I was struck by the fact that discussions of Aristotle's theory of virtues often side-stepped an account of their acquisition, Two notable exceptions were articles by Burnyeat and Sorabji, l but on the whole the idea of moral habituation as a kind of non-cognitive practice was unquestioningly accepted. The aim of the thesis was to debunk this view, both as an interpretation of Aristotle and as a plausible theory in its own right. Little of the thesis survives in this present book, but the motivating idea, to demonstrate that character is inseparable from the operations of practical reason, remains. In writing a book on Aristotle, I have felt acutely the problem of Aristotle's inherent sexism, and have struggled with the awkward issue of just how to allow women into the ranks of the decent and wise. I have not come to any ready solution, and, perhaps with some anachronism, have in the end allowed myself to use women as well as men as the subjects of my examples, moving freely between the masculine and feminine pronoun. For my own process of writing and interpretation, this seemed to be necessary and crucial for sympathetic appreciation of the theory. If not 1 Myles Burnyeat, 'Aristotle on Learning to be Good', in A. O. Rorty (ed.), Essays on Aristotle's Ethics (University of California Press, 1980), 69-92; Richard Sorabji, 'Aristotle on the Role of Intellect in Virtue', Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 74 (1973-4), 107-29, repr. in Rorty, 201-19.

VU1

Preface

abetted by Aristotle, it seems at least within his own dictum of allowing time to be a co-partner in and co-discoverer of the details of his theory (NE I098a22). Where appropriate, I have examined in some detail Aristotle's position on women, and, especially in the case of their role as moral tutors within the family, have pointed to inconsistencies in his views. MallY people have helped at different stages in the growth of this book, and to all of them I owe my gratitude. My deepest debt is to Martha Nussbaum. As a teacher and thesis supervisor at Harvard she was everything a graduate student could want, and more. Her interest never flagged, and her vigilant supervision at all stages of the thesis was incomparable. At later stages of the book, too, she was a careful critic. Indeed, it would be hard to imagine acknowledging my debt to her in any brief space. For coming to understand Aristotle's place in the larger sweep of moral philosophy, I owe deep appreciation to my second thesis supervisor, John Rawls. His writing, and his remarkable lectures in moral philosophy, have remained the foundation of my own education in that subject. His forceful defence of Kantian ethics compelled me then (and now) to take seriously the challenge Kant poses to Aristotelian theory. Many thanks are also due to Steven Strange, who read the thesis, and who offered helpful criticisms along the way. The book began life again at Yale, and benefited from the various seminars at which its ideas were developed. To the many students whose discussions helped to shape this book, I am most grateful. I also owe thanks to my Yale colleagues for their encouragement and support of my work. John Fischer's careful reading of earlier drafts of two chapters led to substantial improvements, and conversations with Sarah Waterlow Broadie clarified my own thinking about difficult issues in Aristotle's theory. Both R. 1. G. Hughes and Giovanni Ferrari read and commented on several chapters of the book, and I am thankful for their interest. To Ruth Marcus, for her steady encouragement and warmth over the past six years, I owe special thanks.

Preface

IX

I would also like to thank Lawrence Blum, who commented extensively on one of the chapters and whose own work has helped me greatly in thinking about Aristotle. I also owe a debt to Amelie Rorty, who read several of the chapters, and to Aryeh Kosman, whose introduction to Aristotle, when I was an undergraduate, left a lasting . . ImpreSSIOn. I received extensive and extraordinarily helpful written comments on the penultimate draft of the manuscript from Norman Dahl and Richard Kraut. Kraut's detailed and astute criticisms saved me from many mistakes, and his challenges forced me to revise and clarify positions. I have tried to acknowledge his help at many places, although I am sure I have not given a full accounting. Dahl's suggestions on how to tighten the structure of the book were invaluable in writing the introduction, and offered me an external vantage-point that I very much needed. Also, his challenge to take more seriously the rationality of the vicious agent led to my rethinking various arguments at the end of Chapter 3. Though I cannot hope to have satisfied these readers fully, I am most grateful to them for taking my views seriously. I also owe thanks to the useful criticisms of an anonymous reader who read the penultimate draft. This work was supported through various research funds. Since the work began as a thesis, I would like to thank the Charlotte Newcombe Division of the Woodrow Wilson Foundation for fellowship support when I was a graduate student, as well as Professor Zeph Stewart, then chair of the Harvard Classics Department, for supporting my work through the Teschemacher Fellowships. The writing of the book began again on a leave from Yale (1984-5) in which I received a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) and was completed during a leave (1987-8) supported by the American Council for Learned Societies and a Mellon Fellowship, awarded by the Whitney Humanities Center at Yale. I would like to thank these many groups for their generosity, as well as the Philosophy Department at Yale for allowing me time free from teaching. There are other sorts of debts that are due, especially to those in my family. The first beginning of this book as a

x

Preface

Ph.D. was marked by the birth of our 4aughter Kala; its second beginning during my NEH year saw the birth of our son Jonathan. But, as C. S. Lewis once noted of one of his N arnia tales, 'When I began it, I had not realized that girls [and boys] grow quicker than books.' Both children have grown, and with patience, curiosity, and respect have watched this book slowly come to life. For their understanding, I am grateful. And to my husband Marshall, for his humour, his flexibility, and his unfailing encouragement in these years, I have the deepest gratitude. This book owes more than can be said to him. Earlier versions of parts of this work have been previously published. Chapter 2 grew out of 'Character, Planning, and Choice in Aristotle', Review of Metaphysics, 39 (Sept. 1985), and Chapter 3 is a later version of 'Aristotle on Friendship and Shared Happiness', Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 47 (June 1987). N.S.

CONTENTS

Abbreviations and Bibliographical Notes I.

INTRODUCTION

I

Character 2. The Inseparability of Character and Practical Reason 3. A Practical Theory

4 7

I.

12._

Xlll

DISCERNING THE PARTICULARS

I

13

Equity within the Law An Alternative Legislative Model Perceiving Ethical Salience Seeing through Emotions Strategies for Expanding Horizons

44 50

3r THE CHOICES OF A CHARACTER

56

I.

2. .3,: 4. 5.

I.

2.

3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Present and Future Intention The Practical Syllogism Simple Planning The More Complex Plans of a Character Choice Includes Revision of Ends Fitting Contemplation in a Life Good and Bad Characters

4. THE SHARED LIFE I.

2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

Aristotle and Kant Friends as External Goods Happiness as Including the Happiness of Others Friendship and Wider Altruism A Friend as Another but Separate Self Conditions for Attachment Virtuous Parents and Virtuous Children (or Sons) The Limitations of Private Education

13 22

28

58 60

68 79 86 94 106

118 I 19

124 128 136 138 144 151 155

s. THE HABITUATION OF CHARACTER

IS7

The Viability of a Developmental Model The Rationality ofthe Non-Rational Part

160

I.

2.

162

Contents

Xll

3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

The Inappropriateness of Harsh Sanctions The Intentionality of Emotions Learning to See Aright Learning to Make Choices Habituation as Critical Practice The Pleasure Intrinsic to Practice Practice Includes Experience

Index

164 165 171 174 176 184 190

201

ABBREVIATIONS

The Works of Aristotle I use are abbreviated as follows: DA De Anima EE Eudemian Ethics MA De Motu Animalium Mem. On Memory and Recollection Metaphysics Meta. MM Magna Moralia NE Nicomachean Ethics Phys. Physics Po. An. Posterior Analytics Poet. Poetics Pol. Politics Rh. Rhetoric Top. Topics The works of Plato are abbreviated as: Pro tag. Protagoras Rep. Republic Translations of the Nicomachean Ethics to which I refer are: Irwin, T. H., Nicomachean Ethics (Hackett, 1985) Ross, W. D., Nicomachean Ethics (Oxford University Press, 19 15) Urmson, J. 0., Nicomachean Ethics, in J. Barnes (ed.), The Complete Works of Aristotle: The Revised Oxford Translation (Princeton University Press, 1985) Commentaries to which I refer are: Gauthier, R. A. and Jolif, J. Y., Aristote: L'Ethique a Nicomaque, 2nd edn., 4 vols. (Publications Universitaires de Louvain, 1970)

XIV

Abbreviations

Grant, A., The Ethics of Aristotle (Longmans, Green, 1885) Greenwood, L. H. G., Aristotle: Nicomachean Ethics, Book VI (Cambridge University Press, 1909; repr. Arno Press, 1973) Stewart, J. A., Notes on the Nicomachean Ethics of Aristotle, i and ii (Oxford University Press, 1892; repr. Arno Press, 1973)

Note. References to the works of Aristotle follow the conventional system based on the pages, columns, and lines of the Bekker edition (Berlin, 1831). References to Plato are to the pagination standardized by Stephanus. Unless otherwise noted, the translations of Aristotle are my own. References throughout the text that are not otherwise identified are to the Nicomachean Ethics.

I

INTRODUCTION

I. CHARACTER

THE focus of this work is on character. For Aristotle, as for us, the term has to do with a person's enduring traits; that is, with the attitudes, sensibilities, and beliefs that affect how a person sees, acts, and indeed lives. As permanent states, these will explain not merely why someone acted this way now, but why someone can be counted on to act in certain ways. In this sense, character gives a special sort of accountability and pattern to action. Following Aristotle, I will be concerned primarily with good character-with the virtues that guide a good life. Not that Aristotle ignores vice: the virtues are, in all cases, relative to excesses which would lead a person, if not to moral turpitude, at least to foolishness or unsensible ways. But the description of these is in the service of showing what the good life is like-what its constituents are and what sorts of persons are likely to lead it. As a whole, the Aristotelian virtues comprise just and decent ways of living as a social being. Included will be the generosity of benefactor, the bravery of citizen, the goodwill and attentiveness of friends, the temperance of a nonlascivious life. But human perfection, on this view, ranges further, to excellences whose objects are less clearly the weal and woe of others, such as a healthy sense of humour -and a wit that bites without malice or anger. In the common vernacular nowadays, the excellences of character cover a gamut that is more than merely moral. Good characterliterally, what pertains to ethics-is thus more robust than a notion of goodwill or benevolence, common to many moral theories. The full constellation will also include the excellence of a divine-like contemplative activity, and the best sort of happiness will find a place for the pursuit of pure

2

Introduction

leisure, whose aim and purpose has little to do with socj~l improvement or welfare. Human perfection thus pushes outwards at both limits to include both the more earthly and the more divine. But even when we restrict ourselves to the so-called 'moral' virtues (e.g. temperance, generosity, and courage), their ultimate basis is considerably broader than that of many alternative conceptions of moral virtue. Emotions as well as reason ground the moral response, and these emotions include the wide sentiments of altruism as much as particular attachments to specific others. The claim is not the familiar one argued by some that sentiments and attachments enable us to fulfil the moral requirements determined by a more impartial reason. That would be far too Kantian. Rather, it is that emotions themselves are modes of moral response that determine what is morally relevant and, in some cases, what is required. To act rightly is to act rightly in affect and conduct. It is to be emotionally engaged, and not merely to have the affect as accompaniment or instrument. It is to reason and see in a way that brings to bear the lessons of the heart as much as the lessons of a calmer intellect. An action motivated by the right principle. but lacking JrM:herlgE:r gesture'of feeling falls!?lt6rt ofthe mean; it does not express virtue. Indeed, for Aristotle, to act for the right reasons, as the person of practical wisdom does, is to act from the sort of wisdom that itself includes the vision and sensitivity of the emotions. Moral choice issues from that wisdom without necessarily presupposing the reflections of an impartial agent. Emotions and attachments need not be stripped or, more weakly, justified from a higher-order perspective, where one asks how others, similarly circumstanced, would respond. This point is not new. The impartial standpoint characteristic of modern moral theory (Kantianism and consequentialism alike) is not one rooted in ancient moral theory. And apart from the hedonistic theory found at the end of the Protagoras, procedural methods of assessing correct choice are not particularly emphasized. 1 This is not 1 Aristotle's criticism of this view (as it figures in the Socratic account of akrasia-weakness of will) is at NE VII. 3; on this see David Wiggins, 'Weakness of Will, Commensurability, and the Objects of Deliberation and Desire', in

Introduction

3

to deny that impartialism will have its place. In Aristotle's account, the phronimos or person of practical wisdom will need to correct for biases and preferences that interfere with the deliberation at hand; but recognition of this never leads to the identification of the impartial point of view with the point of view of ethical assessment in genera1. 2 Aristotle's account can thus be seen as shedding some light on the current debate between impartialist and particularist moral theories. With the particularist, he will argue that the point of view of moral assessment does not require a higher-order perspective of impartiality. It is not merely that the detail of situations is often iost in the retreat to coarser-grained principles. !1is-tha!-f>~urj~gg~~.2f..R~r:, ticular cases and our knowledge, oChQ,YV to, 'compose the ~~~ne' '1s -~i§:eICi),i:l£f"Of:~tlre:,~mor-iil, '-i~~P'QPs~':"" jjisbcer'rung::~;1":i:~ morally 'salient features of a situation is part oIexpressing "virtue' ahd.·:part~()f tli-e,'tnotally ·:~PpJ:(),pi'iate.respojlse,~pur: ~ suing'the end~ of~i;t;:}~'doe's"~ot begin with making choices, but with recognizing the circumstances relevant to specific A, O. Rorty (ed.), Essays on Aristotle's Ethics (University of California Press, 1980), On the same subject see Martha Nussbaum, The Fragility of Goodness. Luck and Rational Self-Sufficiency in Greek Ethical Thought: The Tragic Poets, Plato, and Aristotle (Cambridge University Press, 1986), ch. 10, and 'The Discernment of Perception: An Aristotelian Conception of Private and Public Rationality', in John Cleary (ed.), Proceedings of the Boston Area Colloquium in Ancient Philosophy, i (University Press of America, 1985), 151-201. 2 Thus, in general, Aristotle is eager to distinguish practical reason both from the top-down, deductive methods of episteme and from the procedural methods of techne. Epistime or scientific understanding is a kind of knowledge which has as its subject-matter unqualified and unchanging truths; given the contingent circumstances of human action, the model will not work for ethical theory (cf. 1 14Ia25). In contrast to episteme, the subject-matter of techne is what is contingently produced by our efforts; but still Aristotle insists that the reasoning characteristic of such productions (poieseis) is fundamentally distinct from the reasoning characteristic of action (praxis; 11 40b6). Productions, he continues, have ends extrinsic to the producing, while the ends of praxeis are immanent in praxeis. For problems with this latter distinction see David Charles's 'Aristotle: Ontology and Moral Reasoning', in Julia Annas (ed,),Oxford Studies in Philosophy, iv (Oxford University Press, 1986), 121-43. His claim is that the excessively simple distinction undermines the fact that praxeis, too, are done for the sake of certain end states, though end states that are internal rather than external consequences of the action, and 'which occur without any change being produced in another object' (132-43). The worth of the praxeis (say courageous activity) thus depends not upon achieving planned results, but upon a courageous state being exemplified. I believe this rendering of praxeis is compatible with the notion I go on to develop of intrinsically fine action in ch. 3, sect. 7.

4

Introduction

ends. In this sense, chlJ'racte~ is expressed in what one...sees as n:uch as w?at one( does:j~Se~wi.!lB_.h~.~,_t?_.d~~C.~E~_t!:: partIculars, Anstotle stresses, IS 11 mark of vIrtue. 3 --Ih agerieral way, then, this book will address issues that figure in contemporary moral debate. But it takes its lead from Aristotle's own views and texts. In this sense, it is an interpretative work, and the method combines argument with exegesis. The objective is to understand Aristotle's ethical theory, not to construct a theory which uses Aristotle, or other historical figures, to illustrate its particular positions. While I have no objections to the latter approach, it is not the one I have adopted here. Still, as with any interpretative work, the hope here is to make Aristotle come alive on particular issues, and to deliver his insights in a way that has relevance to questions which concern us now. In a sense this is the aim of interpretation-to show the permanent importance of a text to issues of fundamental human concern. And Aristotle himself urges us to take this role seriously: time (and future generations), he says, must be co-workers and co-discoverers in the development of his theory (Io98a22).

2. THE INSEPARABILITY OF CHARACTER AND PRACTICAL REASON

The focus of the book, as I have said, is on character. But to talk about character requires one to talk about practical reason. For it is practical reason that integrates the different 3 Recent discussions from within an impartialist (Kantian) point of view of the importance of ethical perception are Onora O'Neill, 'The Power of Example', Philosophy, 61 (1981), 4-29; O'Neill, 'How Can We Individuate Moral Problems?', Social Policy and Conflict Resolution (Bowling Green Studies in Applied Ethics, 6: 1984) and Barbara Herman, 'The Practice of Moral Judgment', journal of Philosophy, 82 (1985), 414-36. Martha Nussbaum has explored the issue from an Aristotelian viewpoint in 'The Discernment of Perception'. A particularist conception is taken up by Lawrence Blum in 'Particularity and Responsiveness', in J. Kagan (ed.), The Emergence of Morality in Children (University of Chicago Press, 1986), and 'Iris Murdoch and the Domain of the Moral' Philosophical Studies, SO (1986), 343-67. I argue here and in ch. 2 that the Kantian and Aristotelian accounts of ethical perception are still quite distinct.

Introduction

5

ends of character, refining and assessing them, and ultimately issuing in all considered judgements of what is best and finest to do. The inseparability of character and practical reason is often inadequately appreciated by readers of the Nicomachean Ethics. The reason may be Aristotle's own classification of virtue or excellence (arete) into that of character (ethikes) and intellect (dianoetikes) in NE 11. I, and his announced plan of treating each separately. But while he offers some sort of sequential treatment, with the excellence of intellect the special focus of NE VI, and to some extent NE X. 6-8, the descriptions of the virtues of character are in all cases descriptions of character states which are at once modes of affect, choice, and perception. The definition of virtue makes this painfully clear: to have virtue is to be able to make the choices characteristic of the person of practical wisdom. 'Virtue', Aristotle says, 'is a character state concerned with choice, lying in the mean relative to us, being determined by reason and the way the person of practical wisdom would determine it' (1107al). And he is again at pains to make the point, as he concludes his account of the practical intellect in NE VI: 'it is not possible to be fully good without having practical wisdom, nor practically wise without having excellence of character' (I 144b3 1-2). My own interpretation will follow these leads, examining different aspects of practical reason concerned with character .. IIl,.p~J:"!Jc~la~, .I sll~!L9r_,(f,es
See Rh. I.

12

on the emotional intensity (and excess) of children's responses.

The Habituation of Character

174

direct. Here Aristotle contends that the elderly no longer live by their emotions, that, hardened by life's misfortunes, they have made themselves invulnerable: 'And they neither can love intensely or hate intensely, but as proposed by Bias', they both love as though they are about to hate, and hate as though they are about to love' (1389b23-S). This is clearly not meant as praise, but as a stern warning against what can happen when we stray too far from more candid, less protected responses. Virtuous activity falls short if, in the end, it disregards the passions, if behaviour fails to evidence the proper feelings and sentiments in addition to the proper actions and beliefs.

6.

LEARNING TO MAKE CHOICES

We have been focusing on the training of desire and the role of perception and belief in this training. The training of the non-rational part thus has an essential cognitive dimension. But in what sense is the rational part itself cultivated? In what sense do deliberative capacities become trained? As we said earlier, the child is, on Aristotle's view, incapable of the sort of reasoned choices, or prohaireseis, that characterize mature virtue. This, however, will not bar the child from all deliberation. The child is capable of voluntary choices which may require a certain level of simple means-end reasoning and specification of ends. Also, to the extent that realization of an end requires various steps, the end may set up a certain agenda to be achieved in time. All this we referred to in Chapter 3 as the simple model of planning. But what the child is excluded fromat least the child whose deliberative capacities are still quite immature-is the sort of 'all things considered' judgement that comes with prohairetic reasoning. This will include, as we detailed in Chapter 3, an evaluation of alternative means as well as an assessment of ends in the light of other ends which might take priority. It is to judge an action best, given an agent's overall objectives and beliefs. This may further entail a revamping of acquired ends, in the light of considerations of fit and specific convictions. Now it seems

The Habituation of Character

175

eminently reasonable to assume that a child's rational capacities are not yet ready for this level of deliberation. As Aristotle conceives such deliberation, it shares much in common with the dialectical reasoning characteristic of the mature student engaged in justifying an account of good living. I5 Still, if, as I have contended in this chapter, we need to make some sense of a transition to full rationality, then there must be a time when, in the more mature youth, these rational capacities are cultivated. In a complete scheme, experience in this more complex sort of choice-making will constitute a later stage of development. It will precede the emergence of mature virtue and presuppose the sort of sensitive judgement and emotional response of the person who has been trained to notice the circumstances of moral action. But this is to recognize that even at the more intermediate stages of becoming virtuous, the learner does not simply perform some action-type, as one perhaps does in developing a skill, but reacts to the circumstances, and then decides how to act. This is itself a part of making voluntary, intentional choices. There is judgement and decision, even if not reflective evaluation (or justification) of the choice. To gain practice in the relevant actions is to come to work out, with appropriate guidance and models, what to do. For the more mature youth whose deliberative capacities are actively developing, the choice will be reflective and subject to rational justification. It will take into account the more complex and competing factors that need to be weighed in the balance, and represent a judgement as to what is best in the light of these varied factors. Practice in action is eventually, at the later stages, practice in choice-making of this sort. But here it is important to remember that for full virtue, Aristotle requires not merely that actions be 'chosen' in the above sense, but that they be chosen for their own sakes. Thus, in a passage in NE 11. 4, which we will be returning to again, Aristotle notes that there are three conditions of 15 I defended this line of interpretation in the introductory chapter. It is developed with considerable insight by Henry Richardson in his 'Rational Deliberation of Ends', Ph.D. thesis (Harvard University, 1986).

The Habituation of Character mature virtue: first, the virtuous agent must act knowingly; second, he must choose virtuous acts and choose them for their own sakes (prohairoumenos di' auta); and third, he must act from a firm and unchanging character (1105a304). I wish to focus on the second condition. As I have said before, virtuous actions have, in some important sense, external ends. Generosity aims at alleviating need, temperance aims at health, battlefield courage aims at victory and, perhaps ultimately, peace. The actions are ameliorative and aim at certain external conditions which are valued within a human life. But, as Aristotle implies above, to be fully virtuous is not simply to choose actions which will tend to promote those ends. In addition, and perhaps more importantly, it is to find the actions which promote these ends, themselves valuable. Thus, while the actions derive their original value from external ends, in time it is the actions themselves that come to be valued. 16 They come to constitute their own ends. To act for the sake of the fine is just this: to value the actions which express virtue, even if these actions do not ultimately achieve their planned goals. From the point of view of cultivating virtue, the claim is that learning virtue is more than learning balanced deliberation, more than learning how to make certain general ends, such as peace and welfare, one's target. IQ..!ddition, iLi~J,ear!1.ingto ._yalue_.fhe actions which realize these enas-;,and the sort of person~ho ·reliablypeif():rIT:;s·them.-This, 'it'Is'"Arlstotle"s 'claim, dirinotbe ~part 'from actual practice in virtuous action.

learn;;;r

7.

HABITUATION AS CRITICAL PRACTICE

With these considerations as background, we are now in a position to interpret Aristotle's more explicit and wellknown remarks about habituation. Character, on Aristotle's view, is the acquisition of states (hexeis) through habituation 16 For an illuminating discussion of this issue, see Eugene Garver, 'Aristotle's Genealogy of Morals', Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 44 (1984), 47192.

The Habituation of Character

177

(ethismos). The process of habituation involves essentially practice and repetition: Now character [ethos], as the word itself indicates, is that which is developed from habit [ethos]; and anything is habituated which, as a result of guidance which is not innate, through being changed a certain way repeatedly [pollakis], is eventually capable of acting in that way (EE 1220a39-b3, tr. Woods; cf. Pol. 1332bl if.)!7

As Aristotle says more simply in the Rhetoric: 'Acts are done from habit because individuals have done them many times before' (1369b6). Through repetition an acquired capacity becomes almost natural, or second nature: 'For as soon as a thing becomes habituated it is virtually natural. For habit is similar to nature. For what happens often is akin to what happens always, natural events happening always, habitual events being frequent and repeated' (Rh. 1370a6; cf. Mem. 452a27). Excellence of character or virtue, according to the above picture, is contrasted with abilities (dunameis) which are innate, which cannot be changed through habituation (EE 1220b4, NE 1103a20-3) and which exist prior to rather than consequent upon practice. This obviously does not entail that virtue will be independent of antecedent affective and cognitive capacities (1103a26-32). The point is rather that these are merely indeterminate capacities, not latent dunameis for virtue. Character states thus arise through the sorts of activities that are involved in their exercise. This is the explicit point of a celebrated, though insufficiently analysed, passage from the Nicomachean Ethics: We acquire the virtues by first acting just as we do in the case of acquiring crafts. For we learn a craft by making the products which we must make once we have learned the craft, for example, by building, we become builders, by playing the lyre, lyre players. And so too we become just by doing just actions, and temperate by doing temperate actions and brave by brave actions . . . and in a word, states of character are formed out of corresponding acts. (I 103a31-b21; cf. 1 105a14, EE 1220a32) 17 Aristotle's Eudemian Ethics, Books I, 11, and VIII, tr. Michael Woods (Oxford University Press, 198Z).

The Habituation of Character But to say that we become just by doing just actions is to abbreviate a whole series of steps. As we have seen, action presupposes the discrimination of a situation as requiring a response, reactive emotions that mark that response, and desires and beliefs about how and for the sake of what ends one should act. We misconstrue Aristotle's notion of action producing character if we isolate the exterior moment of action from the interior cognitive and affective moments which characterize even the beginner's ethical behaviour. These remarks prepare us for an understanding of the notion of repetition implicit in Aristotle's conception of habituation. Aristotle would clearly agree with the old saw that 'practice makes perfect', IB that we become better at something by doing it repeatedly and persistently. But what is the real content of this sort of phrase? For one thing, to repeat cannot really mean to do the same action over and over again. Various considerations are pertinent here. First, as we said above, there is no external husk of all just actions that we can isolate and repeatedly practise. Any just action will be contextually defined and will vary considerably, in terms of judgement, emotion, and behaviour, from other just actions. It would be absurd to demand (and certainly run counter to the spirit of Aristotle's inquiry) some extractable piece of behaviour, training in which could form character. Second, even if we take up the more straightforward case of practising a skill where there is some isolatable sequence of steps, repetition of that sequence cannot involve doing the same action, if by that is meant doing just what one did before. For repeating in that way seems to ensure that one will stay in a rut, do the same thing over and over again (mistakes included), rather than show improvement or progress. Indeed, it seems to make progress impossible. A more plausible conception of repeating the same action, again within the simplified skill analogy, will involve trying to approximate some ideal action type that has been set as one's goal. Learning through repetition will be then a matter 18 For an illuminating discussion of this old saw which has influenced my remarks, see Vernon A. Howard's Artistry: The Work of Artists (Hackett, 198:z), 157- 88.

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of successive trials that vary from one another as they approach this ideal way of acting. In each successive attempt, constant awareness of the goal is crucial, just as measuring how nearly one has reached it or by how much one has fallen short is important for the next trial. The practice is more a refinement of actions through successive trials than a sheer mechancial repetition of anyone action. On this view, then, practice achieves progress to the extent that repetition is critical. Whether the states to be acquired be primarily physical, intellectual, or emotional, and concerning techne or character, the rehearsal requisite for acquiring them must involve the employment of critical capacities, such as attending to a goal, recognizing mistakes and learning from them, understanding instructions, following tips and cues, working out how to adapt a model's example to one's own behaviour. In the case of virtue, the practice of actions will obviously be more complex. Virtuous action, as we have said, will combine a judgement of circumstances, reactive emotions, and some level of decision about how to act. Here too the learner will follow the examples of emulated models, and may have in mind general precepts and rules of thumb. Following models and bringing to mind the appropriate precepts will in itself require cognitive skills. But these alone will be insufficient without the sort of imagination and sensitivity requisite for knowing how a type of action and dispositional response translate to the situation at hand. Becoming sensitive to the circumstances in which action is called for as well as flexible in one's conception of the requirements of a precept is all part of practising virtuous action. The notion of critical practice is already implicit in Aristotle's discussion of habituation at NE 11. 1. We learn how to play the lyre, he says, by practising not merely with persistence, but with an eye toward how the expert plays and with atterition to how our performance measures against that model. Without the instructions and monitoring of a reliable teacher, a student can just as easily become a bad lyre player as a good one: Again, just as in the case of the crafts, the same causes and means

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that produce each virtue also destroy it. For playing the lyre produces both good and bad lyre players. And analogously, this is so for builders and all the rest; for building well makes good builders while building poorly makes bad builders. For if this were not so there would be need of no teacher. (1I03b7-I2; cf. II04a27, I I05a14, EE 122oa32) At issue here is how we make determinate more indeterminate capacities and actions. Since the capacities are not latent excellences, a teacher must be on hand to direct the progress. (This falls within Aristotle's general theory of dunameis at Meta. IX. z and 5 in which rational capacities-understood broadly as those which are not physical and as such do not have fixed ends-can produce contrary ends or effects. To produce one effect rather than another, desire or rational choice must guide the exercise of the capacity; Meta. I046bI ff., I048a8-Iz.) In the case of virtue, unlike skill, it is more difficult to speak of a neutral action which is at once the means for virtuous or vicious action. The action cannot be separated from its end in this way.1 9 Even so, occasions may be viewed in some sense as neutral, as being opportunities either for the development of a particular virtue or for its ruin, just as more basic abilities or dispositions can. So, Aristotle continues, just as danger is a moment for cowardice or bravery (NE II03bI6), so appetites and anger are at once the basis for temperance and gentleness or for indulgence and irascibility. The role of the tutor in helping us to see and respond aright is even more urgent here. There are further sources of evidence in Aristotle's writing that support a critical conception of practice. The first requires looking again to the example of techne and to Aristotle's belief that to have techne is to have a skill that its possessor can teach to others. The claim now is not that beginners must have teachers, but that anyone who has 19 This is the point of an otherwise obscure remark Aristotle makes at NE 140bz ff.: 'And the person who voluntarily errs with respect to techne is more desirable than the person who voluntarily errs with respect to practical reason and similarly the virtues.' The idea, I believe, is that whereas it may be desirable to use a particular techne for a non-standard end (as when a tennis coach uses his skill to demonstrate how to hit a bad forehand shot), it is less desirable to 'misuse' virtue. Indeed it is unlikely that full virtue can be misused. I

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sufficiently learned a skill must himself be (capable of being) a teacher of it. Thus, Aristotle argues that possessing techne differs from the possession of less systematic experience (Meta. 98rb7-IO), just as for Plato it differed from the possession of a mere knack. 20 The capacity to formulate and teach a skill might thus require precisely defined procedural rules, or, what is pedagogically more plausible, a looser set of critical cues and hints as to how to proceed at each stage. 21 Though we would probably want to distance ourselves from Aristotle here and argue that even the latter condition is too strong a requirement for possessing a techne, its inclusion is still indirect evidence for the view that practice involves an awareness of what one is doing; for in order to teach others one must be aware of how one achieves certain ends. That awareness is deepened in the novice by attentiveness to the cues and comments of the expert, and in the expert, by the very process of formulating what one understands more implicitly. Ethical action will not, of course, be procedural (NE II40b22-S; cf. IIosa28-b4). Accordingly, cues and tips will not be expressive of some more systematic, long-hand rules that a teacher can pass on to others. Even so, explicit teaching must take place, as we have argued above; but what is passed on will be ways of reacting, seeing, and understanding which will aim at establishing enduring patterns of action. Significantly, Aristotle's views about musical education (Pol. VIII) support the same general picture of critical practice. Though we cannot address here, in any detail, the complex issues of ancient music or chronicle its timehonoured place in traditional paz"dez"a,22 a few brief remarks 20 Cf. Gorgias 46sa, and Meta. 98u2S-31: 'And in general it is a sign of the man who knows and of the man who does not know, that the fonner can teach, and therefore we think craft more truly knowledge than experience is; for craftsmen can teach, and men of experience cannot.' 21 Cf. Howard's excellent illustration, in Artistry, 9-116, of the language of coaching used in teaching singing. 22 Though Pol. VIII is the primary source for Aristotle's views on the place of music in education, additional remarks in Poet. 1447a18-b9 enhance the picture. Aristotle says here that mimesis is produced in 'rhythm, speech, and melody, and in these either separately or mixed together ... flute and lyre playing, for example,

The Habituation of Character should shed some light on the way in which music figures in Aristotle's own account. Training in music involves essentially, for Aristotle as for Plato, a mimetic enactment of poetry, song, and dance. (Thus the Greek term mousike is only imprecisely translated by our term 'music'.) The performance is typically with accompaniment on lyre or aulos and is set to specific, highly conventionalized musical modes (harmoniat) meant to 'express' the character or mood of the individuals depicted in the poetic text. Hence the modes are said by Aristotle to be ethical (i.e. to convey character). And the learner's mimetic enactment of them ( through performance) is a way of coming to feel from the inside the relevant qualities of character and emotion. It is an emulative and empathetic kind of identification. Together with the positive reinforcement that comes from pleasure music naturally gives, the mimetic enactment will constitute an habituation, an ethismos: And since music happens to be a kind of pleasure, and virtue is using melody and rhythm alone'; dancers use rhythm alone for 'through the rhythm of the dance figures, they imitate character, emotions, and actions'. On difficulties in interpreting this passage, see Gerald Else, Aristotle's Poetics: The Argument (Harvard University Press, 1967), 17 fr. As regards the ethical character of music, the pseudo-Aristotelian remarks in Problemata IX. 27 are suggestive: 'And in its rhythm and in its arrangement of high and low sounds, melody has a similarity to character ... And the motions [of sounds] are connected with practical action, and actions are signs of character' (919b26-37). For a detailed study of the place of music in Aristotle's educational curriculum, see Carnes Lord,

Education and Culture. On the general subject of ancient music, scholarly study is extensive, and I shall restrict myself to mentioning only a handful of works that are directly related to the issues raised above. (A more extensive discussion of the literature, and of the issues Aristotle himself raises, can be found in my Ph.D. thesis, 'Aristotle's Theory of Moral Education' (Harvard University, 1982), ch. 4. There I discuss also the conception of mimesis in tragedy.) First, there are the classic studies of D. B. Monro, The Modes of Ancient Greek Music (Oxford University Press, 1894), and R. P. Winnington-Ingram, Mode in Ancient Greek Music (Cambridge University Press, 1936). More recent discussions are provided by Donald Jay Grout, A History of Western Music (Norton, 1973), 27-34, and Warren D. Anderson, Ethos and Education in Greek Music (Harvard University Press, 1968). Most recent is the comprehensive and penetrating study of ancient music undertaken by Andrew Barker, Greek Musical Writings, i. The Musician and His Art (Cambridge University Press, 1984) in which the author systematically compiles Greek writings on music and musical theory. On the subject of mimesis, I have learned greatly from Goran Sorbom, Mimesis and Art: Studies in the Origin and Early Development of an Aesthetic Vocabulary (Scandinavian University Books,

The Habituation of Character concerned with proper enjoyment and loving and hating rightly, it is clear that there is nothing more necessary to learn and to become habituated in [sunethizesthaz] than judging rightly and delighting in good characters and fine actions. Rhythm and melody provide keen likenesses of anger and gentleness, and also of courage and temperance and of all the opposites of these and of all the other states of character. (This is clear from experience. For in listening to such music, our souls undergo a change.) And becoming habituated to feeling pain and delight in likenesses is close to feeling the same way towards the things that are their models. (Pol. I 340aI 5-28)

The idea, then, is that music provides the child with exemplars of character, and allows the child to feel 'from within' what the emotions and actions of such characters are like. All this is complex and needs a fuller account within a theory of mimetic education. What I wish to stress here is Aristotle's own insistence that mimetic education requires not merely - that the child cultivate the mimetic powers of an audience, but that the child be trained as a performer, as someone who himself must act and practise (Pol. VIII. 6, esp. 1340b20-134IbIS). And this, Aristotle insists, is precisely because those who are to judge and delight correctly (krinein kai chairein orthos) in fine actions and characters must practise such actions themselves, making the sorts of judgements and coming to have the sorts of emotional responses that are appropriate to the characters. Thus, Aristotle says, 'it is impossible or at least difficult for those who do not themselves perform to be good judges of others' (I340b24-S). His principal point is not that they will be bad aesthetic critics. That may be true too. What he means, rather, is that they will be inadequately prepared to judge ethical character, in literature and in real life. For they will not have learned first hand,.through their own critical attempts at mimesis, what sorts~otionsana

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1966), Finally, of related interest is Plato's theory of art andpoetrYi for a lively analysis that also illuminates more general issues about the role of poetry in ancient Greece, see Giovanni Ferrari, 'Plato and Poetry', in Cambridge History of Literary Criticism, i (Cambridge University Press, 1987).

The Habituation of Character

8.

THE PLEASURE INTRINSIC TO PRACTICE

Additional direct and compelling evidence for the notion of critical practice comes from Aristotle's remarks about the relation of practice to the pleasure consequent upon it. On Aristotle's view, practice would be neither necessary nor sufficient for acquiring states and abilities if it did not yield derivative pleasures. For it is the pleasure proper to a particular activity that impels us to perform that activity the next time with greater discrimination and precision: For the pleasure proper to an activity increases that activity. For those who perform their activities with pleasure judge better and discern with greater precision each thing, e.g. those finding pleasure in geometry become geometers, and understand the subject-matter better, and similarly also, lovers of music, lovers of building and so on, make progress [epididoasin] in their appropriate function when they enjoy it. (I 17Sa29-3S; cf. 117sa36b24, 117SbI3-IS, Ilosa3-7)

Conversely, the pain derivative upon an activity impedes progress, just as alien pleasures from other activities distract from an appreciation of the activity at hand (I 17SbI6-z3). More precisely, upon what does this pleasure depend? On the interpretation I shall offer, pleasure not only issues in but arises from discriminatory activity.23 The model I ascribe to Aristotle is thus that of a chain of activities which increase in discriminated complexity as well as in derivative pleasures. On this model practice yields pleasure to the extent to which practice itself is critical. And pleasure, in turn, yields further critical activity. These claims require further examination of Aristotle's account of pleasure. According to a unified account of pleasure in NE VII and X, pleasure is the perfect actualization of a state or faculty of the soul in good condition exercised upon appropriate objects (I 174b14-1 17saz).24 It 23 Although David Charles emphasizes only the first half of the process, his account, I believe, is essentially compatible with mine; cf. Aristotle's Philosophy of Action (Cornell University Press, 1984), 182-3. 24 This is a highly complex issue which I cannot take up here. Very briefly, the account is unified if we consider the perfection of activity at II74b31 not to be something over and above the activity. In this way the notions of pleasure as un impeded activity (NE VII) and as perfection of activity (NE X) both define

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is activity that is unimpeded (IIS3aIS), that is, without the impediments either of a defective nature or of external goods inadequate for the full exercise of a state. Thus, the pleasure of seeing requires both that the natural faculty of eyesight be in good condition and that it be exercised upon the finest perceptible objects (II74b1S ff.). Similarly, the pleasure which arises from virtuous activity (I I04b3 ff.) is the pleasure of realizing a virtuous state without either internal impediments (i.e. insufficient or conflicting motivation) or external obstacles. In this way, the pleasure of virtue falls under the general account of the pleasure of excellent activity. But there is an immediate problem. On this general view, the pleasure derived from a particular activity depends upon the capacities for that activity being well-developed and mature. Pleasure as perfect actualization requires a welldeveloped nature. But if this is so, then the account makes very puzzling the role of pleasure in learning virtue. For pleasure seems to arise only when a state is fully developed, and not when it is becoming so. One reply to this objection is that this account of pleasure is consistent with the motivational role of pleasure at 117Sa29-b24 in the following restricted way: the progress the geometer makes when he experiences pleasure in his activity involves the realization of an already acquired state or capacity in more precise and complex ways. Genuine development and improvement are involved here, though not the sort involved in initially acquiring a state. 25 Progress in the sense of refinement of an already existent state seems to be what Aristotle has in mind at II72a12-IS when he says virtuous persons become better (beltious) through the company of virtuous friends. Although the virtuous person has already acquired a stable and firm character, that pleasure as a form of activity. On Gosling's view, in particular, pleasure as the perfection of actualization is not additional to the fully actualized state, but its formal cause. J. G. B. Gosling and C. C. W. Taylor, The Greeks on Pleasure (Oxford University Press, 1982), 253. 25 In DA 11. I Aristotle refers to the realization and cultivation of such a state through activity as its second actuality. The first actuality of an organism is the acquired, non-active state, which will itself be the actualization of some more basic potentiality.

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character is capable of further development and Improvement through the activities of friendship. But can pleasure attach to a broader notion of development, in particular one which includes the acquisition and habituation of states, such as virtue? If so, pleasure would arise not only from the exercise of developed capacities and states upon appropriate objects, but from the activity or practice which constitutes their development. Such pleasure derivative upon practice would be the pleasure of an imperfect actualization, imperfect not because of external impediments (though these might exist), but because of an imperfect state. A preliminary answer to the above questions depends upon how we understand imperfect. On Aristotle's view a state or capacity may be defective in several ways. The state or capacity might be impaired temporarily, as in the case of an individual for whom sweet things taste bitter because of a cold; or impaired permanently, either because of some natural shortcoming, as in the case of those whose reason will always lack authority, or because of an irreversible illness, as in the case of those who cannot see in the light because of opthalmia; or impaired because it is not yet fully developed, as in the case of the (male) child. In this last case, although an individual's activities are imperfect, with the right opportunities and objects they can come to approximate the full potentialities of the species. The pleasure of this imperfect actualization is a real pleasure, that is, a pleasure specific to the capacities of a human being, though a pleasure lesser in degree than that of the most perfect actualization. Aristotle raises the notion of degrees of pleasure in NE X·4: Hence for each faculty the best activity is the activity of the subject in the best condition in relation to the best object of the faculty. This activity will also be the most complete and the pleasantest. For every faculty of perception, and every sort of thought and study, has 'its pleasure; the pleasantest activity is the most complete; and the most complete is the activity of the subject in good condition in relation to the most excellent object of the faculty. (I 174bI8-24; tr. Irwin)

The Habituation of Character Exercise of the perceptual and critical faculties appears to admit of degrees. The more complete the actualization, the pleasanter the activity. But within that continuum, even the learner gains pleasure from the exercise of his abilities. The point is reminiscent of Aristotle's comment in Poet. IV, discussed earlier, that learning is pleasant not only to the philosopher but to all, whatever their capacity for it. Our earlier problem still seems to remain, however: Aristotle's example at NE 1174b2o is of the individual who comes to use his perceptual faculties in more and more discriminating ways. Yet according to II 03a26-3 I, perceptual cap~cities, unlike states of virtue, exist antecedent to practice. Consequently, the pleasures derivative upon such activity do not refer to the process of habituation or acquisition, but once again to the process of actualizing an already existent state. But does Aristotle ever relax the distinction between activities that engender states and activities that actualize states that are already formed? I shall argue that in a limited sense, he does. . At NE 11. 4, after outlining his doctrine of habituation as the acquisition of states through corresponding actions, Aristotle raises the following puzzle familiar to readers of the Nicomachean Ethics: 'The question might be asked, what we mean by saying that we must become just by doing just acts, and temperate by doing temperate acts; for if men do just and temperate acts, they are already just and temperate' (1IOSaI7-2o).26 His solution in Book 11 is precisely to differentiate habituating actions from actualizations. Both actions will concern the same sorts of circumstances and external requirements (I I04a28-bS), but the actions of the novice will lack the full structure of motives and reasons characteristic of the person who already has a stable character (I losa29-3S). But in Meta. IX. 8 Aristotle offers a different solution to a related (though distinct) problem. Here he describes a puzzle about the acquisition of craft knowledge: 26 There is of course the related paradox of learning in the Meno: in order to inquire about things we do not yet know, we must already know them.

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This is why it is thought impossible to be a housebuilder if one has built nothing or a lyre player if one has never played the lyre; for the individual who learns to play the lyre learns to play by playing it, and similarly in the case of all other learners. And so arose the sophistical puzzle, that one who does not possess a knowledge will none the less be producing the object of that knowledge: for he who is learning it does not possess it. But since, of that which is coming to be, some part must have come to be, and, of that which in general is changing, some part must have changed (this will be clear in the case of change) so, equally, the one who is learning must, it would seem, possess some part of the knowledge he is learning. (Io49b28-Iosoa2)

The force of Aristotle's remarks is to show that the learner, even at the very beginning stages of his apprenticeship, is already acquiring some of what the expert has. And to the extent that he is, he will receive the pleasures consequent upon exercising those states. Though no one would seriously hold that the apprentice becomes an expert in an instant, Aristotle goes to some pains here to make explicit the general sort of incremental process that must be involved. Now the acquisition of craft knowledge, Aristotle insists, is distinct from the acquisition of character, so a solution to one sort of puzzle will not necessarily be a solution to another. Thus, shortly after Aristotle raises the ethical puzzle in NE 11. 4, he distinguishes the case of the crafts and the virtues. I quote a passage to which we have already referred: But the case of the crafts and the virtues is not similar. For the products of the crafts have their goodness in themselves, so that it is enough that they should have a certain character when they are produced. But it is not true that if acts in accordance with virtue have themselves a certain character they will be done justly or temperately. The one who does them must also be in the right state of character when he acts. First, he must act knowingly, second, he must choose the acts, choosing them for their own sakes, and third, he must act from a firm and unchanging character. Except for the knowing, these conditions are not required for possessing a craft. But in the case of the virtues, the knowing has little or no weight, while the other two conditions count not for a little, but for everything. (IIoSa2S-b3)

The Habituation of Character These remarks should serve to remind us once again of the limitations of Aristotle's own analogies between craft and virtue acquisition. The difference, Aristotle suggests here, is that acquiring an art, such as grammar, will be primarily a matter of internalizing certain procedural principles and producing a product that embodies that procedure (or knowledge). Virtue, on the other hand, will be a matter not of learning implicit procedures, but of having reliable motives, expressed in chosen actions which come to have intrinsic value. The actions will not be chosen by procedure, nor will what is' brought about valued apart from the actions which realize it. Now habituating ethical action will not, at least at the early stages, meet these conditions. The learner's temperate actions may be directed at health, but the motive will neither be reliable nor the actions themselves chosen as a valued way of living. In a more dramatic way than in the case of the crafts, there may be qualitative differences between what the learner and the expert possesses; the development may be less smooth or continuous. This seems to be so simply in virtue of the fact that prohairetic capacities develop late. Even so, it can none the less be argued that what the learner does gain through habituating actions is not something externally necessary to full virtue, but itself a part (albeit an imperfect or not fully developed part) of what virtue is. To become aware of the circumstances necessary for the specific virtues, and to begin to form the right sorts of emotional responses and decisions for action, is itself a part of having virtue. It is not simply preparation for virtue, but doing something of what virtue requires. It might be in this way that we can make sense of the idea of pleasure which comes with learning virtue: though the habituating action is not itself an exercise of a perfected state, it is none the less an exercise of a part of virtue, and yields pleasure to the extent to which it develops that part. (Perhaps the case of convalescence and its pleasures (II54bI4-2I, II52b34 ff.) provides a partial analogy for the pleasure of an imperfect character state. In both cases, some small part of the person continues to exist-i.e. the healthy part or the part that has the potential to develop-the

The Habituation of Character activity of which is the proper focus of the non-accidental pleasure of 'getting better' or 'developing'. 27 In the case of virtue, pleasure increases as the character state develops.) This notion of degrees of pleasure 28 also offers the most natural reading of Aristotle's general view that moral habituation is the cultivation of fine (or noble) pleasures and pains. As already quoted: 'We need to be brought up, right from early youth, as Plato says, to find enjoyment and pain in the right things' (I I04bl 1-13, cf. 1 losa3-8). By this remark, Aristotle might mean no more than that a student comes to enjoy the intrinsic pleasures of virtuous activity through essentially external pleasures and pains; the association of virtue with reward, and vice with reproof and castigation, makes virtue derivatively pleasant and vice, painful. As suggested earlier, this will be a part of Aristotle's account (cf. II04bI6-18). In general, he argues, the difficulty of learning virtue requires that the process be sweetened in various ways. Music serves this instrumental role in early paideia because of its natural pleasure and appeal for children (Pol. 1340bIS-19). In a somewhat more complex way, the special affection children have for their parents makes the family a privileged and effective environment for ethical learning (NE VIII. 12; II8ob3-12). But this conception of external pleasures and pains cannot exhaust Aristotle's notion of correct education. In addition there will be the intrinsic pleasure of approximating to virtue through action and emotion. Without some such notion, the idea of valuing virtuous action for its own sake would be curious indeed. y'~

9. PRACTICE INCLUDES EXPERIENCE

To summarize, then, good character arises through the sorts of judgements, emotions, and actions which approximate to The analogy was suggested to me by David Charles. Gosling and Taylor detect in Aristotle's writings the notion of a continuum of activity whereby human beings approximate the most perfect activity of divine beings (The Greeks on Pleasure, z49). They cite Meta. I07zbI3-30, NE I1S4bz48, I 178b7-z8 in support of their case. Yet Aristotle's remarks elsewhere about 27 28

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19 1

the virtuous person's behaviour. Practice takes place not in a vacuum, but in response to the requirements of highly concrete, practical situations. A by-product of this sort of habituation, or what I have dubbed critical practice, is a sense of pleasure which stimulates further growth. Aristotle's account, it should be obvious by now, is antithetical to any view which regards character as the maturation of internal capacities independent of significant interaction with the environment. 29 While Aristotle has a notion of natural virtues (i.e. the innate proclivity in some towards temperance, justice, courage, etc.), these are isolated capacities, he insists, which do not imply the presence of the other virtues (I 144b33-1 145a3), and which in the absence of proper habituation and guidance can lead to considerable harm (I 144b8-14). One final way of focusing on the conception of critical practice is by examining Aristotle's notion of experience (empeiria). I shall consider it first in relation to notions of inquiry and explanation, and second in relation to the experience of failure and disappointment. Experience, Aristotle instructs us in Meta. A and Po. An. 11. 19, is connected memory of a number of (perceived) instances of a particular sort of event: 'And in the case of human beings, experience arises from memory. For many memories or-the same things make up a single experience' (Meta. 98ob29-98Ia2; cf. Po. An. 99b35-looa8). The definition is clearly limited, for experience is not merely a way of remembering the past or of forming concepts on the basis of past impressions, but a way of managing the future in the light of the past; that is, it organizes the -past (our past feelings, perceptions, and beliefs) in such a way that we gain a familiarity (sunetheia) and imaginative feel (phantasia) for what may lie ahead. It thus steers us in our future encounters. The remarks that follow make this clear (Meta. 98Ia12-24). For Aristotle goes on to show that experience is displayed in our ability to recognize (gnorizein) our composite natures and necessarily human function (especially NE 1178a8b8, I. 7) suggest that the point may be less well founded. 29 This has been taken by some to be Piaget's view. See Susan Isaacs, Intellectual Growth in Young Children (Routledge, 1930).

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and judge the requirements of particular situations as they arise; through familiarity with individual cases, we can make informed choices. In the Metaphysics and Posterior Analytics discussion, it is important to note, experience is a precursor to the possession of craft (techne) and science (episteme); in the Nicomachean Ethics, it is a precursor to the possession of character states and practical reason. Thus, courage at NE 1116b3 is 'thought to be an empeiria with regard to the particulars'; as in the case of soldiers' bravery, it is 'an extensive familiarity and awareness [malista suneorakasin houtm] of the many empty dangers of war' (11 16b6-7).3o Experience here is deepened not by procedure, but by a continued and fine attuning to the demands of individual cases. Such exposure requires considerable time and living; it will be a gradual and slow process (I I03a16, 1 142aI6). And different virtues will require familiarity with different circumstances and access to different sorts of resources. Courage will thus require opportunities for endurance of great danger; temperance will require the more ubiquitous conditions of needing to moderate bodily desires. To evince cowardice may, in this sense, be less reproachable than to be intemperate (11 19a2S). For complete virtue, however, sufficient exposure to the various spheres of experience will be required. And while such experience will be acquired piecemeal, it must eventually be integrated to form larger, more interlocking patterns. This will comprise the practical knowledge essential to possession of the unified virtues (114sal). It is important, too, to appreciate that the growth of experience requires not only that beliefs (or memories) be accumulated and consolidated, but that on occasion they be jolted -that certain connections be broken and reassessed in the light of anomalies. For the youth, this involves encounters with exceptions. These often mark a moment of puzzlement about how to proceed or understand, gIven 30 Cf. IIIsb4. 118obI8.

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P!1st experience. S ! The child learning virtue regularly encounters exceptions and limitations. Learning how and when to be generous, and under what conditions and with what sorts of means, requires the constant qualification of some less refined grasp of that virtue. So, for example, the child's desire to be generous to a friend might have to be constrained by the reminder that the intended gift has already been promised to another, or perhaps that it is not his own to give in the first place. Or the demands of fairness in playing a game might require that special feelings toward a friend be on this occasion restricted; while partiality is often not inappropriate, here and now it is. Indeed, this sort of recognition of legitimate exceptions characterizes learning virtue, at all stages. Within Aristotle's conception of experience in Meta. A, this would entail that the pattern of memories constitutive of experience of a particular type of event or circumstance has become strained and requires readjustment. Though Aristotle does not explicitly develop this account of the way in which experience is extended, it is clearly consistent with the general view in Meta. A that the capacity to discriminate difference is a condition of having experience in the first place. The reorganization of belief in the light of perceived differences is a part of that same capacity to acquire expenence. As suggested, the discrimination of what is aberrant o'r different typically prompts puzzlement, or inquiry. The learner asks why her past pattern of experience cannot accommodate the present facts. Thus aporia leads to questioning, and the discrepancy registered in the question is resolved when some explanation or justification of the relevant difference is cited. The explanation will vary in complexity and depth, depending upon the readiness of the learner. But to what extent does Aristotle recognize this 31 Cf. Isaac's moving and insightful account of a child's sense of puzzlement and curiosity in Intellectual Growth in Young Children. Equally moving is Gareth Mathew's account of the child's incipient philosophical temperament, in The Young Child and Philosophy (Harvard University Press, 1980), and Dialogues with Children (Harvard University Press, 1984).

194

The Habt"tuatt"on of Character

sense of inquiry in the young learner? We gain some insight from the following considerations. Aristotle's general methodology requires that in all cases in which we learn the ultimate origins or principles of a discipline we do not begin with these principles, but eventually arrive at them as part of a more advanced study. As he says, we begin with the 'that', and only later move to the 'because'. The learner, for a time, must be satisfied that something is the case, without understanding why it is so. Thus, we do not begin, in the case of the good life, with a defence of virtue, but with a commitment to it. Only later do we deepen our commitment through an understanding of why it is a defensible life: For which reason we must be brought up in fine habits if we are to be able to listen adequately to lectures about what is fine and just and about political matters, in general. For the starting point [arche] is the 'that' [hoti], and if this appears sufficiently clear, we will not need in addition, at this stage, the 'because' [diott]. And the sort of individual who has been trained this way will have or can easily grasp the starting points and principles [archasJ. (I09Sb4-8)32

But to postpone inquiry into the ultimate origins of a discipline is obviously not to postpone all inquiry relevant to learning the facts. As Aristotle's opening sentence makes clear, the explanation that is at issue here is of the sort that Aristotle's lectures on ethics can yield: namely, some theoretical and general account of the substantive and formal features of good living. Obviously, at the beginning the student is neither ready for this nor requires it. But to 32 Cf. 1098a33 ff.: 'Nor must we demand the cause [aitian) in all matters alike; rather it is enough in some cases that "the that" be established well, as in the case, for example, of starting points [archas). For "the that" is the first principle and is the starting point [proton hai archi]. And some starting points are studied through induction, some through perception, some through habituation, and others in other ways.' The use of archi in this passage, and at 1095b4-8, esp. 1095b8, is systematically ambiguous. On the one hand, we inductively begin with 'the that' in order to arrive later at archas; on the other, 'the that' which is the starting point [arche] itself constitutes a first principle [arche]. See Grant, The Ethics of Aristotle, i. 304; also R. A. Gauthier and J. Y. Jolif, Aristotle: l'Ethique a Nicomaque, 2nd edn., ii/l (Publications Universitaires de Louvain, 1970), 19, who speak of 'le principe-commencement'. For further discussion of archi, see chapter 2, n. 53.

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be not yet ready for such an account in no way tells against a readiness for less complex explanations. It is no accident, then, that the passage refers back to Plato's dialectic (Rep. SIIb) and gives a reminder (me lanthaneto), in Aristotle's familiar reformulation, that in the order of learning we do not proceed from principles knowable in themselves but move inductively towards them from principles knowable to us (lo9sa30-b4).33 While the person ascending will not yet grasp such ultimate principles, the Platonic model suggests a dialectical progress between having just begun the ascent and having arrived. Within Aristotle's account, I suggest this progress involves a readiness for more partial and incomplete explanations, either that the student himself offers or that are offered by others along the way. Indeed the point of Aristotle's methodology of proceeding from what is obvious to us to what is more knowable in itself is to indicate a gap between the desire to know and the capacity to grasp an explanation adequate to the subject-matter. That gap does not preclude the utility of giving explanations, but underlines rather that a good explanation must build upon what the learner can understand. What satisfies the child without misleading will be inadequate for the adult, and VIce versa. Thus, nothing Aristotle says precludes the educational path being marked by stages of inquiry and explanation or there being an explanatory dimension to the acquiring of adequate habits. Nor is this precluded by Aristotle's pertinent remarks at Top. I. 11: It is not necessary to examine every problem or thesis, but only that which puzzles [aporeseien] someone who requires argument and does not need castigation or lack perception. For those in doubt about whether to respect the gods and love their parents require castigation, while those who question whether snow is white lack perception. (Iosa3-8)

The sorts of inquiries under consideration fall into neither of these categories. The learner's questions about how to deploy ethical concepts and how to make decisions 33

See Phys.

184817-:ZI.

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196

appropriate to these judgements typically exhibit neither irreverence toward authority, nor ignorance of the perceptually obvious. This brings home the point that the 'why' of the student of ethics is really more a 'how': how am I to construe these events? how am I to proceed here? how is this different from circumstances I have encountered before? how, ultimately, am I to live? These are not the 'why's' of the moral sceptic, but the demands for explanation of individuals (of all ages) interested in living well. 34 In a sense, indeed, the question never turns from 'how' to 'why', at least within Aristotle's account. That is, even when one begins to understand why moral virtue is a defensible good and why a life in which it is featured is to be preferred over other lives, the question is never asked by one who suspends belief or commitment. There is no Thrasymachus in Aristotle's story, no sceptical challenger who has not yet enlisted virtue in his life. In this ethical inquiry at least, the explanations of ultimate principles are not meant to persuade the unconverted. They presuppose and amplify a more preliminary grasp. Perhaps the more straightforward, if less rich account comes from a related passage from the Eudemian Ethics: So we must not think that the inquiry that makes clear not only the 'that' [tt1 but also the 'why' or 'how' [dia tt1 is superfluous even for the student of politics. For this sort of approach is the philosophical method in each discipline. But still, great caution is required here. For, because it appears to be the mark of the philosopher never to speak in an unconsidered fashion, but always with reason, there are some who often go undetected when they produce arguments that are foreign to the inquiry and idle; they do this sometimes because of ignorance, sometimes because of charlatanry; by these are caught even those who are experienced and of practical ability ... This happens to them through lack of training [apaideusian]; for it is lack of training to be unable to distinguish, with regard to each subject, between those arguments which are appropriate to it and those which are foreign. (I2I6b35 if.)

The virtue of this passage is that it clearly states that both 34

Cf. Burnyeat, 'Aristotle on Learning to be Good', 8 x.

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197

the 'that' and the 'why' (or 'how') will be of concern to the student interested in living well, that because idle arguments can mislead even the experienced, first-hand training in the sorts of explanations relevant to ethics will be urgent. Thus if we are to become critical listeners of discourse on ethics, we must first be trained to become critical inquirers. Ethical education must, to some extent, include this training. There is another aspect of experience which is relevant to the ethical education of the young. This is the experience of disappointment or failure. In Rh. 11. 12 and 13 Aristotle claims that youth need a certain exposure to disappointment and misfortune in order to knock them out of their naIve trust of others and over-confidence in their abilities. His remarks emerge in the context of a rather sharp and hyperbolized comparison of youth and the elderly: And youth trust others readily~because they have not yet often been cheated; and they are optimistic ... for they have as of yet met with few disappointments. And they live their lives for the most part in hope; for hope looks to the future and memory to the past, and for youth the future is great, the past brief ... And they are great-souled, for they have not yet been humbled by life or learned its necessary limitations. (I389aI6-3I) In general, the young are over confident about their abilities and about the goodness of others. The elderly, Aristotle goes on, err in the other extreme: They have lived many years, and have been deceived many times and have made many mistakes . . . And they are cynical [kakoetheis], and this cynicism is a matter of seeing everything in the worst light. And furthermore, their experience makes them distrustful, and their distrust makes them suspicious of evil ... And they lack confidence in the future, because of experience, for most things go wrong or at least turn out for the worse ... And they feel pity for others, not out of kindness, as youth do, but out of weakness, for they imagine that anything that befalls anyone else might easily happen to them. (I389bI3-I390a2I) Aristotle characterizes the experience of disappointment and failure as leading to cynicism. Of such disappointments, the elderly have seen too many, and youth tOQ few. But these are two extremes, and presumably there is some

The Habituation of Character middle ground between the two, such that disappointment in moderate degree has positive pedagogical value. But precisely what sort of value does it have? In part this depends upon how we view the disappointments. If they are in fact due to outside factors which no amount of foresight or ability could have prevented (e.g. loss of friends through death, a conflict of attachments or duties, a natural disaster, monetary losses due to means fully beyond one's control, etc.), then what is to be learned is simply the natural limits of an agent, and how to come to accept these limits. On the one hand, Aristotle seems to be talking about the lessons learned from this sort of disappointment. The child needs to distinguish what is and what is not within her control, what is due to her own failure and what is due to accident and an uncooperative world. She needs to· be humbled by the limits of human agency.35 But equally Aristotle has in mind failures which, though caused by external conditions, might be avoided in the future by greater familiarity with these conditions. Youth thus have something to learn about whom to trust and whom not to trust, whom to view as good and whom to view as deceitful, which abilities of their own to rely on and which to recognize as unfit for a particular job. Their failures are in part failures of judgement which more living and experience may be able to correct. While Aristotle suggests elsewhere that adults may often be held culpable for such errors,36 this seems unlikely in the case of children. For it simply may not be reasonable to suppose that at this point they could have known better. What we hope, rather, 36 Thus while Aristotle optimistically suggests at Meta. 981a4 that experience tends to eliminate chance (thus endorsing Polus' remark that experience produces craft, but inexperience produces luck), his more systematic remarks in Phys. 11. 4-9 rightly point out that experience cannot entirely eliminate the unexpected or unintended. If anything, as the above passage from the Rhetoric on youth and elderly argues, experience, in a certain way, prepares us for the unexpected. It is also important to note his remark in Phys. 11. 6 that chance, as the unintended consequence of deliberated action, cannot be experienced by children in so far as they lack a capacity for (and presumably a conception of) a deliberated act. I shall not argue specifically against this, since the force of my general argument is to show that such an exclusion of children from rational capacities is inconsistent with Aristotle's richer account. 36 I have in mind the discussion of harmartema at NE 1 135b17 and Rh. 1374b8.

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is that children learn from such experience, that they judge more wisely in the future in the light of what they now know and can expect. It should be clear by now that Aristotle's account of habituation extends well beyond the truism expressed in the phrase that 'we learn by doing'. At issue is how we learn by doing, or, as Aristotle himself asks at the outset of the Eudemian Ethics, 'how and by what sources does virtue arise?'. This, he says, is the 'most valuable' inquiry (1216bl0-2Z). The inquiry, as conducted by Aristotle, leads to a rich and lasting theory which has at its centre the related beliefs that learning virtue is neither a mindless nor purely intellectual matter, and that the process requires practical reason and desire working in tandem throughout. 37 37 I have read versions of this chapter at the Conference on the Theory and Practice of Teaching Ethics, University of San Diego, February 1987, the University of Connecticut, and Lehigh University. I am grateful to Gerasimos Santas for his public comments on the version read in San Diego. I would also like to thank Ronald Polansky for his comments, and especially Richard Kraut, whose insightful criticisms prompted modification and revision of my views.

Index

Ackrill, J. L. 95 n. 48 akolastos (vicious person) 81,108-17 akrasia 47,66,78-9,81, 161 Allan, D. J. 70 n. 23 altruism 137-8 Anderson, Warren D. 182 n. anger 34, 169 animal 159-62 Anscombe, Elizabeth 78 n. 32 arche (starting-point) 43-4, 89, 194-7 Aristophanes 14,151-2 Athenian court system 14 Athenian women 153 attachment see philia Aune, Bruce 66 n. 17 Barker, Andrew 182 n. Barnes, Jonathan 8 n. 4 bias 174 Blum, Lawrence 4 n. 3,47 n. 58, 118 n., 156 n. boulesis (wish) 33-4,61,65,78 n. 33, 80-1,93-4,107-8,163 see also deliberation; desire; prohairesis; soul Bratman, Michael 66,74 n. 27, 117 n. Brueckner, Anthony 43 Bumyeat, Myles 196 n., 158 character 1,4, 176-7 and perception of ends 32-3 and relation to prohairesis 76-86 good and bad 106-17 training of in family 151-6 see also excellence; habituation; philia; practical wisdom Charles, David 3 n. 2, 51 n. 66, 56, 63 n. 12, 90 n. 44, 98 n. 54, 184 n. :U, 190 n. 27 children 144-56 and development 160-2 and disappointment 197-9

and education 157-99 and emotions 173 - 5 and external reason of parents 163-4 and habituated virtue 158 see also family; habituation; philia; prohairesis choice see prohairesis completeness criterion of happiness 9 conflict 30-1,104-6 contemplation 1-2,94-106, 129 continence 161, 167 see also akrasia Cooper, John M. 10 n. 7, 11 n. 8, 39 n., 42, 44 n. 54, 57 nn. 2 and 3, 70 n. 23, 73 n., 82 n. 38, 90 n. 43, 95 n. 47, 110 n., 124-5, 126 n. 13, 143 n. Cottingham, John 119 n. courage 192 see also excellence of character Dahl, Norman 42,43 n. 51,64 n. 13, 88n., I11 n., 117n. Darwall, Stephen 62,76 n., 119-21 Davidson, Donald 57 n. 3,60,68 n. 19 decision see prohairesis decree 18 deliberation: and boulesis 80-1,93-4 and child's capacity for 159-62,

174-6 and coherence constraint 76-86 and intention 57-60,73-5 and merely voluntary action 68-79 and practical syllogism 60-8 excellence of 88-9 of ends 84-96 see also boulesis; intention; practical syllogism; prohairesis . Demosthenes 20 n. 14 desire (orexis) I, 61-8 of non-rational part 162-4

202

Index

training of 165 -7 I see also boulesis; emotion; habituation; practical syllogism; soul developmental model 158-62, 171-2, 184-9 0 dialectic 7-8, 10 n. 7, I I, 43 n. 53, 76-7, 94, 175 Diotema 145 discernment of particulars see ethical perception dunameis (abilities) 180 see also habituation; techne education 20,151-6, 164-5 see also children; experience; habituation; inductio"n; paideia; philia; practice elderly 174, 197-9 Else, Gerald 182 n. emotion 2, 38,44-50, 119-24, 162-5 intentional structure 165-71 see also boulesis; children; desire; habituation; philia; soul empathy 135-6,173, 182-3 Empedocles 47 Engberg-Pedersen, Troels 39 n., 89 n., II4 n. 69 episteme 3 n. 2, 38,61, 157-8, 192 equity 13-22 eras 145 ethical perception 3-5,25-6,28-44, 56,63-4,155, 167-74 and emotions 44-50 and experience 50-5 and krisis (discernment) 13,35 and nous 37-44, "89 see also nous; persuasion; practical syllogism; prohairesis eudaimonia (happiness) 9, 77-8, 94, 97 and external goods 5 I, 66, 125-8 and self-sufficiency 128-30 as activity 127 as contemplation 94-106 excellence (or virtue , arete) of character 1-5,49,68,87-8,91, II4, 177 and emotions 123, 165-6, 171 and external ends of virtuous activity 98, II4-16, 176 and habituation in family 151-6 and pleasure 184-90 as natural virtue 154, 166, 173, 191

as possession vs. exercise 50-5 as well-rounded 1-2,103 contrasted with abilities 177, 180 inseparable from practical reason 2, 158-60, 175-6 see also character; habituation; unity of virtues excellence (or virtue, arete) of intellect 5 see also boulesis; contemplation; deliberation; practical syllogism; practical wisdom; prohairesis experience 39, 43-4, 48-9 and expanding horizons 50-5 and explanation 191-7 and failure 197-9 see also ethical perception; habituation; induction; nous explanation 194-7 see also experience; habituation; pU2zlement; persuasion external goods 51,58-9,77,155-6 friends as 125-7 see also conflict family see philia Ferrari, Giovanni 183 n. finality (criterion of happiness) 95-106 fine (to kalon) 40, 113-15, 122, 176 Fischer, John 17 n. 63, 117 n. Fortenbaugh, W. W. 18 n. 31, 162 n. Frankfurt, Harry 117 n. friendship see philia function argument 1 17 Garver, Eugene 114 n. 70, 176 n. Gauthier, R. A. and Jolif, J. Y. 24 n. 22, 42 n. 50, 126 n. 14, 194 n. geometrical reasoning 39-41 see also episteme Gilligan, Carol 22 n. 17, 120 n. 5 gods 99-100 " Gosling, J. G. B. 184 n. 24, 190 n. 28 Grant, Alexander 158, 194 n. Greenwood, L. H. G. 12 n. 9, 42 n. 50,

70

Grice, H. P. 68 n. 19 Grout, Donald 182 n. habituation 7,88,158-99 and developmental model of child 160-2 and music 181-3

Index and pleasure 184-90 and sanctions 164-5 and training non-rational part of soul 162-71 and training perception 171-4 as critical practice 158, 176-83 as mechanical process 157-9 vs. actualization 187-90 see also children; education; experience; induction; persuasion; philia; practice Halliwell, Stephen 106 n. Hardie, W. F. R. 70 n. 23 Helier, Daniel 91 n. 45 Herman, Barbara 4 n. 3, 25 n. 25, 29 n. 30, 46 n., 57 n., 119-21, 137 n., 156 n. heterosexual relationships 155 see also philia Hill, Thomas 65 n. 13, 156 n. Homiak, Marcia 5 I n. 67 homono;a (consensus) 30, 132-6 Howard, Vernon 178 n., 181 n. Hughes; R. I. G. 156 n. . Hume, David 64 n. 14, 70, 83 impartialism in ethics 2-3, 119-24 induction 43-4, 168, 195-7 see also ethical perception; experience; nous intention 57-61 contrasted with desire 66-7 future intention 72-6, 83 instance/type 73 see also deliberation; proha;resis; practical syllogism Irwin, T. H. 8 n. 4,10,12 n. 9,15 n. 5, 24 n. 22, 31 n. 33, 35 n., 37 n., 50-I, 57 n. 4, 64 n. 13, 68 n. 20, 70 n. 23,77 n., 83 n., 88 n., 105 n. 59, 121 n. 8, 126 n. 12, 140 n. 27, 143 n. Isaacs, Susan 191 n., 193 n. Kagan, Jerome 15J n. Kant, Immanuel: and Categorical Imperative 22-8 and Hypothetical Imperative 7.0 Kantian autonomy on emotions 2, 28, 45-7, 65 on friendship 119-24 on self-knowledge 26 Kenny, Anthony 57 n. 2

20 3

Keyt, David 95 n. 48, 101 Korsgaard, Christine 99 n. 55 Kraut, Richard 59 n. 7, 117 n., 146 n., 156 n., 159 n. 4,199 n. krisis see ethical perception Kupperman, Joel 158 n. law: and its universality 15-17,39 and legislative intention 17-18 Kantian Categorical Imperative 22-8 . litigation vs. arbitration 21-2 see also equity leisure 97-9 Lloyd, G. E. R. 149 n. 35 Lord, Carnes 165 n., 182 n. Lysias 17 n. 9 MacDowell, D. M. 14 n. 2, 17 n. 9, 20 n. 14 Mackenzie, M. M. 21 n. 15 magnanimity 52 Marcus, Ruth Barcan 92 n. 46, 105 n. 59 Marrou, Henri. 158 n. 2 Mathews, Gareth 193 n. mean (the mean) 25,34-5,37,49,51, 68, 123, 167 Mele, Alfred 33 n. 37, 67 n. men 155, 158, 162 see also women mimesis 167-8,181-3 Monro, D. B. 182 n. moral salience see ethical perception music (mousike) 156,181-3,190 Nagel, Thomas 36 n. 41,95 n. 48 North, Helen 107 nous 37-9, 42-4, 48, 89, 96 n. see also ethical perception; experience; induction; practical wisdom Nussbaum, Martha 3 n. 1,4 n. 3, 8 n. 4, 31, 35 n., 47 n. 59, 57 n. 3, 62 n. 10, 66 n. 16, 70 n. 23, 77 n., 85 n., 95 n. 48, 105 n. 59, 117 n., 126 n. 13, 145 n., 152 n. 39,156 n., 169 n., 170 Okin, Susan Moller 153 n. 42 Oldenquist, Andrew 119 n. O'Neill,Onora 4 n. 3, 24 n. 22, 25 n. 25

20

4

Index

Oresteia 49 Owen, G. E. L. 8 n. 4

paideia 181, 190 see also education; habituation; mimesis; music; persuasion particularism in ethics 3,4 n. persuasion 16"2-5,171-4 see also habituation '. phantasia 32, 34, 40, 78 n., 170 philia (friendship) 6,49, 119-56, - :i HS-6 and collaborative reasoning 30, 49, 109- 10 and prohairesis 13 I -6 and role of family in education IS 16,190 and self-knowledge 27-8, 142-4 and self-sufficiency 128-30 as naturalphilia (or family) 144-51, 173-4 contrasted with Kantian view 11924 defined 124-5 of virtuous characters 124-5,151-6 see also eros; Plato (Republic and Symposium) Piaget, Jean 151 n., 191 n. plans see intention; prohairesis; deliberation Plato 158,166, 183 n., 190 and guardian women 153 and music 182 and tripartite soul 14,45, 162 Charmides 107 Gorgias 181 Meno 187 Phaedo 128-9 Protagoras 2,151-2,153 n. 41 Republic 144-7, 153, 156, 164 n. Symposium 129, 145 play 97-8 pleasure 160,164-5,168 degrees of 190 of imperfect actualizations 186-90 of practice and perfection 184-90 of virtue 173 poetry 168 Polansky, Ronald 199 n, practical reason 3 n., 4-5, 38-9, 56117, 154-5 see also boulisis; deliberation;

intention; practical syllogism; practical wisdom practical syllogism 5-6, 33-4, 40-4 and future intention 73-5 and merely voluntary action 68-79 general account 60-8 see also deliberation; intention; prohairesis practical wisdom (phronesis) 36-7,68 and impartiality, 2-3, 123-4 and theory I I inseparable from virtue 88-91, 108, 158, 166 and political wisdom 53-4 see also nous practice 155, 157-60, 175-83, 185-99 see also developmental model; habituation praxis (activity) 3 n. 2, I 14 prohairesis (choice) 57-117 and boulesis 80-1, 93-4 and character 57-8,79-86,107-17 and child's capacity for 144, 160-2, 174-6,198 n. and collaboration within philia 132-6 and intention 58-60, 67 and justification 82-6 and prior deliberation 82 of ends 84-96,112-17 of friends 13 I -2 see also boulesis; intention; practical syllogism Protagoras, 2, 151-2, 153 n. 41 punishment 18-19,21, 164-5 puzzlement 192-3 Rawls, John 8 n. 4, 129 n. 5,151 n. responsibility 19, 32, 36-7 Richardson, Henry 8 n. 4, 10,70 n. 23, 90 n. 44, 175 n. Rorty, Amelie 117 n. Ross, W. D. 23 n. 21, 25, 35, 71 n. 24 Santas, Gerasimos 199 n. Sayre-McCord, Geoffrey 121, 136 n. 22, 156 n. Searle, John 66 n. 17 self-knowledge 26-7,38 self-sufficiency (criterion of happiness) 9, 54, 95, 128-3 0 Sherman, Nancy 95 n. 48, 102 n., 114 n. 69,131 n., 152 n. Sidgwick, Henry 109 n. 64

Index slaves 78-9,83-4,154,161 Socrates 47 n. 60,151-2, 157-8 Sophists 15 I -2 sophrosune 107, 167 Sorabji, Richard 2 n. I, 42 n. 50, 59 n. 6, 70 n. 23, 88 n., 158 Sarbom, Garan 182 n. soul: division into parts 163 educating non-rational part 162-74 educating rational part 174-6 Spelman, Elizabeth 162 n. Stewart, J. A. 158 suggnome 18-19, 22, 37 sympathetic identification 135-6 see also phantasia Taylor, C. C. W. 184 n. 24, 190 n. 28 techni 3,25,177,179-81,192 see also habituation Thomas, Larry 148 n. tragedy 106 Trianowsky, Gregory 133 unity of virtues 30-1,52, 105-6, 1412, 192 see also excellence of character

20

5

Urmson, J. O. 23 n. 21, 71 n. 24, 95 n. 47 utilitarianism I 15 Van Longhuyzen, John 107 n. 63 vice see akolastos; character virtue see character; excellence of character; practical wisdom; unity of virtues voluntary action 19,68-79,80 n., 83-4 see also intention; practical syllogism; prohairesis Weinrib, Ernest 15 n. 4 Wiggins, David, 2 n. 1,31 n. 32, 70 n. 23, 85 n. Williams, Bernard 24 n. 22, 105 n. 59, 119 n. Winnington-Ingram, R. P 182 n. women 78-9,83-4,149-51,153-6, 162 Woods, Michael 177 n. Young, Charles 117 n. Zaitchik, Alan 52 n. 68

Index Locorum

Aristotle De Anima 11. I: 185 n. Z5 Ill. 3:161 n. 111.9-11: 78 n. 30, 161 n. Ill. 11: 63 n. 11 414bz: 65 n. 4183: 38 n. 43 13 7-4: 63 43z330: 163 43339: 60 433318-zo: z7, 4Z 4333ZO: 6z n. 10 4333Z1-5: 61 433 3Z 3: 64 4333Z8: 62 433b6-lo:60 433 b8 :75 433bI0-12: 6z n. 10 433bl2: 34 n. 433b28: 78 n. 30 43435-9: 85 n.

De Motu Animalium 69835: 69 70033z-4:4° 700b1 9: 60 700b22: 65 n. 700bz3: 62 n. 10 700b24:62 70133-5: 62 n. 10 701316: 41 n. 47, 58, 61 701318-22: 61 7013ZZ: 58 701325:60,61 7°1335: 78 n. 30 702318: 169 n.

Eudemian Ethics

VII. 12: 130, 142 1214b7: 106, 132 n. 1214b8: 10, 12 1215b22-5: 161 1216bI0-1I: 157

1216bI0-2Z: 199 1216bI9-2Z: 157 1216b35 ff.: 196 I2z035-13: 163 1220332: 177, 180 12Z0339-b 3: 177 1220b4: 177 1220b6-8: 163 1220bIZ-14: 170 n. 11 12Z336-7: 65 n. 12Z3b8: 78 n. 33, 81 n. 35, 108 1223b33: 81 n. 35, 108 12243Z5-7: 161 1224326-30: 159 n. 3, 160 1226b7- 16:79 1226b9: 67 1226bl2: 71 n. z4, 82 I2z6b12 ff.: 115 n. 1226b16:80 1226b18:67 1226bI8- 19: 66 1226b31: 106 122733-5: 67 1227b25-35: 88 1228332-4: 161 I2z8bI9-22: 161 1230327-33: 114 n. 68, 122 123632-7: 161 1236b3-6: 131 123733° ff.: 131 1237bll: 132 1237bl2: 132 1237bI3-18: 132 1237bI7-18: 13 z IZ37b35-7: 132 123839: 148 123839-10: 148 1239318: 151 124°836-9: 49 n. 63,135 1240b2: 135 1240b9- IO: 135 1240b31-3: 144 n.

Index Locorum 1240b31-4: 160 1241316-18: 132 1241331-3: 30. 132 12,P bS ff.: 149 I 244b6 ff.: 130 1244bIS: 130 1244bI8-22: 131 1244bI8-23: 49 n. 63 1245313-15: 135 1245 31 5-20: 134 1245320-2: 135 1245330: 139 1245330-4: 142 1245 3 35: 139 124Sb3: 135 124Sb4: 135 124sb8: 135 124sb20-6: 148 124Sb22: 148

Magna Moralia 11.131 139 11. IS: 142 1194bll-17: 144 n. 1194bl s ff.: 159 n; 3 121 Ibl-2: 126 12JJbI8-20: 151 12JJb22-7: 151 12JJb27-3S: 151 121Ib3S-9: 148 12JJ b 3 8 : 149 1212b8-23: 123 n. 1213313: 138 1213316-20: 143 1213322:27 1213322-4: 143 1213324: 138 121838: 128

Metaphysics I. I: 161 n .• 193 11·4-9: 198 n. 35 11. 6: 198 n. 35 980320-7: 167 980322-8: 143 980b29-98132: 191 98134: 198 981312-24: 191 981325-31: 181 n. 20 98Ib7-10: 181 1046bl ff.: 180 104838-12: 180 1048317-21:58 1049b28-IOS032: 188

Nicomachean Ethics I. 5: 25 I. 7: 94. 95. 96 n .• 105. 161 n. I. 8-11: 32 n. 33 11: 27 11. I: 5 11. 4: 27 Ill. I: 19 Ill. 3: 31 n. 34. 54. lIS n. IV. 3: 102 IV. 6: 49 n. 64 IV. 6-8: 103 V: 13 V. 1-2: 122 V. 4: 21 V. 6: 19 V. 8: 20. 103

VI: 5 VI. 8: 53. I I I VI. 13: 154 VII. 3: 47 n. 60. 85 n. VII. 8: 112 VIII: 31 n. 33 VIII. 2: 124 VIII. 9: 124. 139 VIII. 12: 124. 190

IX: 31 n. 33 IX. 6: 124. 132 IX. 9: 27. 38. 123 n. X. 5: 85 n. X. 6: 97

X. 6-8: S. 95 X. 7: I I I X. 7-8: 124. 128 1094322 - 4: 12 1094327-8:95 1094bl-7: 54 n. 1094bll-27: 18 1094b1 3:39 1094b22-7: I I 109535: 165 109535-8: 43 n. 52 109Sa:z0:9 109S330-b4: 191 1095331-4: 44 n. 53 109Sbl-8: 10 n. 109Sb 4-6 :7 109Sb 4-8 : 194 109Sb8: 194 n. 109Sb20: 109 n. 65 109Sb 32-109631:9S 1097325 ff.: 96 n. 1097a:zS-b21: 95

20

7

208 1097aJ4: 96 n. 1097bl :9 1097b2: 96 n. 1097b4: 97 n. 50 1097b7-12: 127 n. 1097b8- 14:54 1097b9-1 I: 128 1097b12: 95 1097bI5-22: 128 1097b22:9 1098a4: 16J 1098a6: 95 1098a7:9 1098a8:95. 127. 14J 1098a16: 9. 127 1098aI7-18: 141 1098u8 : 57 n. 4 1098a22:4 1098aJJ ff.: 194 1098bl ff.: 44 n. 5J 1098b4:44 1098bI5-22: 96 n. 1098b21: 125 1098b2J-6:77 1098bJ5 ff.: 95 1099al :9 1099al - 6 : 125 1099aI2-20: 116 1099a16: 9 1099a JI-b6: 125 1099a J2: 9 1099b2: 126 1099b27: 125 IIOOaI-4: 165 1102a 5: 9 II02a6-8: 162 1102bI2-IIOJa4: 16J 1102bI4:88.16J 1102b26-lloJaJ: 16J II02bJI-IIoJaJ: 16J 1102bJJ-IIOJ~I: 172 IIOJ aI 5: 9. 88 1 IOJaI6: 88. 192 IIOJa20-J: 177 IIoJa26-JI: 187 IloJa26-J2: 177 IIoJaJI-b21: 177 IIoJb7-12: 180 IIoJb16: 180 II04a27: 180 1104u8-b5: 187 II04bJ ff.: 185 II04bII-IJ: 166.190

Index Locorum 1104bI6-18: 190 1104bJ2: 122 1105aJ-8: 190 1105aJ-7: 184 1105a6-7: 166 I 105a14: 177. 180 1105u7-20: 187 1105a21-J: 170 n. 12 1105a25-bJ: 188 1105a26-b9: 97 1105a28-b4: 181 1105a29-J5: 187 1105aJO-4: 176 l105aJI: 27 I 105aJ2: 27 1105aJ4: IJ4 11 0 5 a J5: 82 11 0 5b 21-1106aIJ:49 1105b22: IJ8 n. 25 I 105b26: 49 1106b21: J5 I 107a: 91 I 107al: 5. 108 11 0784:49 I 107a28-J2: I I II 0 9 a2J: 49 I 109a24: 25 1109bl-9: I2J 11 0 9bl-12:J5 1109bI5-2J:J4 Illoal4:65 Illoal8: 19 I I loa20-1: 19 I I loa24: 18 II IOb25: 19 I IlobJo-I: 107 II IIa25-6: 160 1IIIb6:68n.20 I I I Ib8-9: 144 n .• 160 II Ilb8-10: 68 n. 20 I I IIb22: 65 IIIIb25: 65 1IIIb27-Jo:80 I I 12a15: 68 n. 20. 80 n .• 82 n. J7 I 1 12a28-Jo: 65 1112a28-J4: 60 1112b10:54 II 12bI0-II: 109 III2bII: JO. 71. 8J. 126 I I I2b2J: 90 II I2b24: 74 II I2b25: 67. 84 II 12b25-6: 66

Index Locorum 1112b27: 30 1112b27-8:S4, 109 1112b28: 126 11138: 30n. 111385: 82 1113824: 108 1113831: 81 n. 35 1113b3-S: 80 111483-22: 109 1114814-24: 112 1114bl ff.: 32 11 14bl-3: 32 1114b 17:32 I 114b23: 32 n. 36 _ IIISb4: 192.n. 11 ISbI2: 113 1116812: II4 1116b3: 192 11 16b6-7: 192 11 17819-22: 82 1117820-2:40 1117833-1117b8: 116 11 17bl-20: 140 n. 26 11 I 9822-J2: 166 1120823: II4 1124b31: 140 n. 27 1126b4: 34 1126b21: 16 11 26b28-33: 49 1128b21: 16 1129bIS-IIJ08IS:9S 1129b20-S:20 1129b 2S:2S 1129b2S-3S: 115 IIJ084-14: 115 IIJobl-S: 110 1130b22-6: 20 IIJOb26: 86 11 328J ff.: 16 11 3283-24: 21 IIJ4829-b 2: 15 II34833: 25 IIJ4833-IIJSbl: 123 1134b24-S: 18 IIJS82S: 19,51 n. 67 113Sb17: 198 n. J6 IIJ68S-10: 19,51 n. 67 IIJ689-2S:20 IIJSbI2-113689:20 IIJSbI6-113689: 18 1137b9: 16 1137b 14: 15 1137b20-8: 16

1137b 23: 17 1137bz4-S: 16 1137bzS: 15 1137b26-7: 16 IIJ7b28: 18 IIJ881-3:21 IIJ9821 - 6:63 1139835: 62 1139bS: 67 IIJ9b10: 48 I I 39bz7-30: 44 n. 53 I I 39b28:42 1140826-8: 134 1140828:84,88,89 I 140b2 ff.: 180 n. 1140b6-7: 97 1140b9: 90 1140b10: 90, 113 1140b12: 107 n. 62 1140bI2-19: 109 1140bI3-16: 113 I 140bI3-20: 90 1140b16: 90 114QbI7-20: 112 1140b18: 90 1140b22-S: 181 1141825: 3 11418JS-1142b2:JO 1141b1 J: 25 114IbI4-2J: 73 n. 1141b23: 54 114Ib23-S: 12 1141b28: 18 114Ib28-9: 12 1142811-23: 73 n. 1142812-16: 48 1142812-19: 39 l142 aI 4: 7J n. 114281 4- 15: 39 1142815-19: 89 1142816: 192 1142820: 91 1142823-4: 7J n. 1142823-30 :38 1142826: 25 1142831 ff.: 90 1142833: 25 1142b19: 108 1142b22: 73 n. 1142b2J-S: 115 n. 1142bJO:88 114381 -35: 109 114J83-9: 36

209

210

1143812-16: 30 1143819-24: 18 1143825-31: 37 1143835 fr.: 43 n. 53 114383S-bS: 40 n., 42 1143836 :39 1143b3- I S: 39 1143b4-9: 73 n. 1143b8-10: 159 n. 3 1143b8- I S: 43 1143b10: 43 n. 52 1I43bll-13: 172 1143bll-14: 54 1I43 b1 3: 44 1143 b1 S: 43 114485: 107 114488: 87, 91 1144824: 37 n., 108 1144830: 9 1 1144831 fr.: 73 n. 1144832: 44 n. 53 l144b3-S: 166 II44b S:48 l144b8: 160 l144b8-14: 191 lI44bIO: 166 l144bI0-12: 172 1I44b30-3: 158 I l44b30-1 14582: 105 l144b 3 1- 2: 5 1 I 44b33-1 14583: 191 114581: 192 114581-2: 134, 141 114581-5: 108 114582: 30 1145820: 107 J 14Sb28: 47 n. 60 1I46b24: 108 I J46b30-1 14784: 47 1I478S: 27, 42 1147810-%4: 47 1147826: 40 n. 1147829: 63 n. I I 1I47830-1: 41 n. 47, 59 n. 6 1147831: 58 J I 47b4: 78 n. 33 1I47b4-S: 68 n. 20 I I 47b26 fr.: 107 n. 62 114889: 78 n. 33 114989-10: 53 115°820: 109 n. 65 IIS0b29-3S: 112 I Isob30: 78 n. 33

Index LocoTum 115186: 78 n. 33 115186-7: 109 n. 65 1151811: 109 n. 65 IISI8I3: 109 n. 65 1151815-19: 88 1151817: 88 I ISlb31: 107 n. 62 IIS2bI9-20: 160 IIS2b34 fr.: 189 IIS38IS: 185 I1S3828-31: 160 115484: 127, 138 n. 25 IIS4bI4-2I: 189 IIS4b24-8: 190 n. 28 I1SS8S-6: 127 I1SS8S-IS: 126 115587-9: 122 1155 8 9: 127 I1SS828-31: 127 11 SS829-32: 126 IISsb28-IIS68S: 138 I1S6818-IIS6b24: 129 n. 11 S9827: 126 1159828-31: 127 116081-8: 122 116084-6: 138 n. 24 II61B2S: 167 n. II6IbI8-19: 148 116Ib24-6: I So 1161b2S: 151 1161b27: 149,154 116Ib27-jo: 148 1161b28: 159 II61b30: 148 II6286-7: 149 II62820-9: 147 1162822: IS4, ISS n. 44 1162822 fr.: 92, 149 I 164b2S-1 16584: 25, 122 II6sb13: 110 1166816: 101 1166822-3: 96 n., 101 1167823 fr.: 30 1168825-8 : 149 1168826: 149 n. 36 1168835 fr.: 101 II68blS fr.: 139 1168bIS-16: 123 n. 1168b18: 151 1168b28-11 6983: 139 116982: 101 n. S7 116982 fr.: 96 n. 1169B3: 16

Index Locorum 1169a8: 102 1169aI6: 16 1169aI8-34: 137 I I 69a20-30: 139 1169a32: 123 n. 1169a33-4: 140 1169bl: 140 1169b5-7: 130 1169b8-10: 127 1169b10: 127 1169bll-15: 126 1169bI6-17: 127 1169bI7-1170bI8: III 1169bI8-19: 128 1169b22-8: 1-30 1169b25-7: 126 1169b30-1170bI4: 143 n. 1169b33-5: 143 1170a5-9: 127 1170aI 0- 15: 134 1170all: 134 1170aI5-bI4: 27 n. 28 1170aI6: 143 1170aI 7- 19: 143 1170bl -3: 143 1170b3-10: 28 1170b6-7: 131 1170b7: 138 1170bll-12:27,133 1170bl 1-14: 27 n. 28 117u6 ff.: 135 117IaIO-15: 148 1172alo-15: 142 1172a12: 149 1172a12-15: 185 1174al-4: 161 1174bl5 ff.: 185 1174bI8-24: 186 I I 74b20: 187 1174b31: 184n. 24 1175a29-35: 184 1175a36-b24: 184 1175bI3-15: 184 1175bI4-1175a2: 184 1175bI6-23: 184 I I 76b28-30: 161 1177aI-II: 98 1 177a12-19: 97 1177822: 127 1177a34: 127 1177bl: 11 I l177b 4-6: 97 1177b 9- 13:98

1177b34: 101 1178al-3: 101 I I 78a4-8: 97 1178a8: 101 1178a8-b8: 191 n. 1178b7 ff.: 97 1178b7-28: 190 n. 28 1178b8-23: 100 1179a33-b4: 8 1179b23: 164 1179b24-31: 165 1179b26: 109 1179b27-9: 164 1179b31-1180a32:20 1I80al-4: 134 1180a5: 113 1180a5-12: 109 1180all-12: 113 1180a12: 164 1180b3-7: 152 1180b3-12: 190 1180b7-12: 152 1180b8-12: 150 1180b18: 192 n.

On Memory and Recollection 452827: 177

Physics 184aI7_~21: 195 n. 184bll-12: 167 n. 184b12-14: 150 184b14: 159

Poetics IV: 187 1447aI8-b9: 181 n. 22 1448b4-17: 168 1448b7-10: 159 1448b16 ff.: 41 n. 48 1450al5 ff.: 106 1453a4-6: 136 n. 21 Politics I. 5: 147 11. I: 144 VII. 3: 96 n. VII. 4, 5: 97 n. 51 VII: 181 1253a12: 172 1253a14: 81 n. 3S 1254b22 ff.: 78 n. 31 1260all-14: 144 1260aI2-30: 78 n. 31, 162 1260aI3: 162 n. 1260aI3-14: 161

211

212

1260a 14: I So 1260a32-3: 161 1260a34: 161 1260b3-8: 161 1260b6-8: 172 n. 1260bI0-12: 154 1260b30 ff.: 78 n. 31 126IaI4: 154 126Ib33: 147 126Ib39- 1262a2: 147 1262a2-6: 146 1262a8: 146, 156 1262bI6: 146 1262bI7: 146 1262b22-3: 146 I 268b7:22 1268bI3-17: 22 1269a8-12: 16 1269aIS-22: IS 1287a28-32: 14 1292a37: 18 I 329a9 ff.: 141 n. 29 1332bl ff.: 177 1333a2S-7: 96 n. 1338a30: 98 n. 53 1338a39-41: 165 1339b 20-3S:98 134Ib30-2: IS

Posterior Analytics 81~0: 44 n. 53 99b3S-100a8: 191

Problems 919b26-7: 182 n. 9SSb22 ff.: 159 n. 3

Rhetoric I. 12: 173 n. I. 13: 13, 19 11. 1-2: 78 n. 30 11. 2: 45 n. SS 11.7: 137 1336a36-8: 115 1336b4: lIS 1336b37 ff.: 165 n. 1338a39-41: 165 1340aIS-28: 183 1340bIS-19: 190 1340b20-134IbIS: 183 1340b24-S: 183 1340b3S-9: 165 n. 1363b12-21: 96 n. 1366a33: II4 n. 68 1367aI-S: 114

Index Locorum 1370a6: 177 1370bl: 170 1370b29: 170 137Ib4-10: 168 1373aI3-IS:20 1374a2S-3S: 16 1374a29: 18 1374b4-10: 18,20, Sln.67 1374b8: 198 n. 36 1374bll-13: 17 1374bI3-16: 19,36 1374bI8-22:21 1374b1 9:22 1374a30: 22 1378a20-1: 170n. 12 1378a22-4: 169 1378b23-S:20 1378a30-2: 170 1378bl-2: 170 1378bll: 170 1378bI8-20: 170 1378b27 ff.: 170 1380b37: 138 138Ia3S-bl: 140 138IbI0-14: 140 1381b3S: 139 1381b37: 138 1384a33-b2S: 152 n. 40 1384b2S: 27, 136 n. 22 138SaI-3: 136 138Sa1 8: 137 138saI8-19: 138 138SaI9-21: 137 138SbI3-14: 136 n. 21 1388a30 ff.: "152 1388a31-2: 142 1389aIS ff.: 49 n. 62 1389aI6-31: 197 1389a32-S: 173 1389a33 ff.: 48 1389bI3-1390a21: 197 1389b23-S: 174 1392a2S: 60 1392bIS-20:S9 1392bI8-20:6s 1392bI 9-22:6s 1392b21-2:S9 1392b 31:67 1393aI -S: 59 1393a2 -3: 6S

Topics losa3-8: 30 n., 195

Index Locorum Plato Gorgias 465a: ISI n. 20

Protagoras 325a7: 153 n. 41 325c-326a: 151

Republic V: 145-6 436 ff.: 45 n. 55 462C: 146 4 63c : 145 5 I l b: 195 590d: 164 n.

2 13