Letters From An Enthusiast

Aristotle's Organic Ethics

It is a colloquial expectation that morality is a strict set of rules, of thou shall and thou shall not, the purpose of which is to guide humans to a better life. Many non-philosophically-minded people who strive toward moral excellence view each encounter requiring moral action in a strict sense. For example, many do not see a difference between the virtue of honesty in one situation (let us say, a situation where a person is late to work and must decide whether to lie to his boss, lying that he was in a wreck) and in another situation (let us say, a situation where a sketchy and dangerous looking man asks if a woman has any money, and though she does, she must decide whether to tell him or not.) This rigid system of morality, where each virtue is an angel or a demon upon one’s shoulders, has lead to a popular conception that morality is burdensome. In fact, many people view morality as a hindrance to the actual enjoyment of life; a necessary evil. A large number of modern philosophers have tried to solve this problem, viewing the problematic morality as an objective black or white, by introducing a subjective grey. It is their purpose, supposedly, to do away with the guilt, the rigor, or the road-block imposed by traditional morality in favor of a “new” moral grey whereby individuals can wear both the badge of moral and the badge of pleasurable living. Ironically, however, this move towards a moral grey does away with the need for morality at all, leaving only a slim visage in title that only serves to falsely boost the self esteem of the deluded advocate. However, the idea that morality is burdensome need not always apply. Morality can not only abate happiness, but it can indeed lead one to a greater level of happiness. For morality must not necessarily be a system of thou shall and thou shall not; similarly, it must not necessarily also be a subjective grey area veneering one in a pseudo-self esteem. Morality can be objective without being rigid and can be life-enhancing and happiness-promoting without being subjective or without giving one a pseudo-self esteem. It was this exact type of morality that Aristotle promoted in the Nicomachean Ethics. Thus it will be necessary to display what exactly Aristotle’s meta-ethical framework is, henceforth called organic ethics or organic virtue; what the benefits are of an organic ethical system; and what the implications are of such a system.

Organic ethics seems an odd term, especially when observing the plentitude of terms that exist to differentiate all of the ethical systems that exist. However, the term organic not only serves to describe Aristotelian ethics, but also serves as a wonderful image to keep in mind when thinking about his ethics. The term organic not only comes to mind because of the teleological nature of Aristotle’s ethics, but also from the fact that he himself was primarily a biologist, and thus it seems quite fitting that a man who viewed the world through the lens of a biologist would incorporate naturalistic or biological imagery into the inner-workings of his ethics. Organic ethics can thus be defined qua Aristotle as an ethical system with a teleological end, happiness (henceforth called flourishing), towards which all actions aim, tailored to the specific qualities of each individual. The end, for Aristotle, is to flourish (or to be “happy”), as fleshed out in almost all of Book I. In Book II, Aristotle describes how the actions which lead to flourishing are properly called virtues, stating, “…the good for man is an activity of the soul in accordance with virtue.” It is by means of the different virtues that an individual can attain a state of flourishing, similar to the way in which a tree must gain water and nutrients from its roots, must protect itself from external forces by its bark, and must gain sunlight via photosynthesis, in order to flourish and grow. This focus on growing is essential, for growing is merely another term for acting. When faced with either two choices, to act and thus to grow and thus to flourish, or to not act and thus to whither and thus to die, it is simple to see why actions are so important for Aristotle. To not act, or to act in an improper way (if trees had volition, were trees to choose not to gather sunlight with their leaves, or to stick their roots straight up into the air as opposed to in the ground) will not lead to a blessed and flourishing life, but will lead to the death of the entity.

The goal of Aristotle’s normative ethics is not to contemplate the good but to act in a good manner. Imagine the absurdity of a conscious and volitional tree pondering whether or not it should gather light from the sun, and then once discovering that the sun is the good, separating itself from the world in order to contemplate the sun. Similarly, Aristotle was not as concerned with a life of contemplation devoid of action, but rather viewed contemplation as a means to fully understanding why and how to act in a proper manner. Unlike any other animal, man is a rational creature. Reason, however, is not automatic and thus will not automatically operate as will the leaves of a tree. This means that for man to act in accordance with a rational principle in order to lead the good life, as Aristotle describes, he must discover via his tool of reason what exactly the good life is and the steps to take in order to reach that point. Once he discovers the necessary steps, it is essential for man to act in a proper manner, for just as a tree cannot stop photosynthesizing once its leaves are fully grown, so too can a man not cease his virtues once he actualizes them. Rather, man must continually and consistently act with his reason and by his virtues in order to flourish. However, this process is not as cruel and unforgiving as it sounds. Quite the contrary, Aristotle’s ethical theory allows for mistakes and mishaps, for breaches of morality, for just as an entire limb of a tree can be severed in a storm, so too can man suffer setbacks and pitfalls yet continue to grow, being damaged only in correlation to the strength of the storm[1]. Just as a tree will grow a large number of limbs, a few of them falling off for some reason or another (being too low to the ground, to near an obstacle, to hidden in shade, diseased, broken off, etc.), and others growing quite large, so too must man grow in regards to his virtues by experiencing life, through all of its trials and tribulations, through the good and the bad, in order to discover the correct growth path which leads to a maximum state of flourishing.

One might raise an objection here, straining to see the objectivity in such a seemingly subjective system. How can it be that Aristotle promotes an objective ethics, yet allows for such variation, such growth, such individual development? The objectivity in Aristotle lies in his evaluation of the nature of man, and the end for which man must strive. He states that man is a rational animal and that the ultimate end for which man must strive is happiness, eudaimonia, or to flourish. The path to flourishing lies in the rational activity of the soul in accordance with virtue. Figuratively speaking in an objective manner, Aristotle states that an oak seed will grow into an oak tree, will grow by the same means and using the same resources, sharing a general similarity with other oak seeds, regardless of its environment (being of course in an environment in which it can live). Thus it is not the beginning, the end, or the general means which allows for leeway, for “subjectivity”, for “variance”, but rather the specific path or the individual steps that are taken from the beginning to the end via a more broad yet absolute means. As one would not say that an oak seed could become an oak tree by growing fur instead of bark and hands instead of leaves, so too would Aristotle say that a man could not flourish by being a coward or by being licentious. But the exact way that the limbs grow, the exact number of leaves, and the location of the tree are relative to each individual tree. Similarly, the same general actions must be taken regardless of a location; a man will flourish in modern America in a similar way to tribal man living in the wild Amazon. Though their circumstances may be different, and though the degree of their virtues might be different, the same general acts will yield the same general results regardless of race, gender, or sexual orientation. In II.ii, Aristotle states:

“Now that we should act according to the right principle is common ground and may be assumed as a basis for discussion…But we must first agree that any account of conduct must be stated in outline and not in precise detail, just as we said at the beginning that accounts are to be required only in such a form as befits their subject-matter. Now questions of conduct and expedience have as little fixity about them as questions of what is healthful; and if this is true of the general rule, it is still more true that its application to particular problems admits of no precision. For they do not fall under any art or professional tradition, but the agents are compelled at every step to think out for themselves what the circumstances demand, just as happens in the arts of medicine and navigation.”

In proclaiming the universal nature of ethics for man qua man, Aristotle strongly pronounces an objective morality whose normative form is not full of thou shall and thou shall not, but rather, aim here and shy away from there. Though this distinction may seem non existent, its existence lies in the difference between a rigid set of rules (for good health, drink 8 cups of water a day) versus a guiding principle allowing room for leeway (for good health, if you are a male child under the age of 10, drink 5 cups of water a day, unless you have exercised a lot, in which case drink 7; for good health, if you are a female adult over the age of 60, drink 6 cups of water a day, unless you are sick, in which case increase your water intake to 8 cups a day). Thus the organic nature of Aristotle’s ethics lies in its teleological qualities, aiming towards the goal of flourishing; its focus on continual action (habituation) versus stagnation and decay; its ability to mold to different circumstances for different people; and its objectivity in being universal for a general species.

A deeper understanding of the meaning of Aristotle’s organic ethics allows one to begin to see the benefits of such a system. As stated in the opening paragraph, many people feel that guilt and morality go hand in hand. Guilt hereafter is defined in a very strict sense as a deep and looming psychological state of shame and regret attained by a breach of morality. Many moral systems endow a sense of guilt in people from the 10 year old child who lets slip a curse word and feels utterly horrible about it to the 70 year old who still holds guilt over a lie told 50 years prior, all strangling themselves with the noose of guilt, cutting their efficacy, happiness, and self worth due to a rigid moral system. It comes then as no surprise that morality is seen as a burden if the direct consequences, within the soul, of a moral breach include a low and powerful feeling of guilt. Guilt can originate from a variety of sources, from the concept of original sin (guilty from birth) to a system with so many rules that one is guaranteed to break them, to a system that restricts and represses the most basic human needs or desires, and so on. Aristotle’s organic ethics, on the other hand, has no conception of guilt due firstly to the fact that Aristotle places ethics within the realm of the individual, making the ultimate arbiter of an individual’s moral actions reality. The man who has too much to drink will get a hangover. The man who is rash will get killed in battle. The woman who is unjust will gain such a reputation, thereby not being dealt with by other people. However, even in these cases, reality is forgiving. For the person who gets drunk once does not risk the destruction of his liver, and the person who tells one white lie does not risk the reputation of a liar (though of course, moral breaches are correlational to the depth of the action; intense over-consumption of alcohol will lead to alcohol poisoning, which can lead to death. These cases, however, are rare.) If a limb is torn in a storm and falls off of a tree, the tree can still work and grow and flourish. Similarly, a person who commits an immoral act can “regrow” their moral “limbs” and live a flourishing life. Because it is inevitable that a tree will lose branches or limbs throughout the course of its life, so too is it inevitable that an individual will experience moral setbacks. However, as long as the individual continues to strive for moral growth and excellence, these acts will be nothing more than setbacks. Indeed, it is sometimes even necessary for an individual to have setbacks (and in reality, almost guaranteed) so that they can grow and flourish even better than before; any gardener will tell you that the best way to help your plant grow large and healthy is to have it trimmed.

It is also a fault of many moral systems to set unreasonable, “universal” expectations for all people, through all walks of life, all ages, and all levels of maturity. Is it truly reasonable to expect a 13 year old to honor his mother and father in the same way that a 31 year old does? While, thankfully, some moral systems have incorporated an organic approach, allowing room for moral growth, into their ethics, Aristotle’s ethics from its conception does not suffer from this problem. A tiny sprout cannot be expected to weather a storm as well as a tall and sturdy tree can. Similarly, a youth or an individual just setting down on the path of moral excellence will encounter difficulties that might “knock them off the bike”. But they are not expected to jump on the bike and ride it like Lance Armstrong. Aristotle’s organic ethics states that an individual must develop moral habits or dispositions, which can only come about through repeated actions of a virtue coupled with the knowledge about that virtue. Over time, what once was intemperance can slowly evolve to “slightly” temperate, until a habit is formed that eventually an individual becomes temperate. Each step along the path is moral growth and is a necessary step in order to reach the end goal. Thus, by not setting unrealistic expectations, Aristotle’s organic ethics allows an individual to celebrate and marvel at each stage of his moral development.

As stated above, many individuals view morality as an impediment to pleasure, a “necessary” evil. Pleasure can only be obtained either by engaging in the act and then “repenting” afterwards, or by abandoning morality all together. However, the dichotomy between pleasure and morality is not present in an organic ethics. Aristotle encourages people to drink or engage in sensual pleasures (saying that the mean for temperance is closer to licentiousness than it is to insensibility), showing a deep understanding of the need for pleasure and relaxation within the psyche of an individual. Though it could be argued that the licentious person is experiencing more pleasure, it is necessary to view a large span of time as opposed to a single isolated incident. The long-term licentious individual will find their health failing, their addictions leading to problems at home and work, ultimately resulting in a net displeasure or misery. The long-term temperate individual, on the other hand, will be able to engage in pleasure over an entire period of time without it being a detriment to his well being; in fact, as a virtue, it will benefit his life and aid in his ability to flourish. It is also true that, due to an organic ethics not setting insurmountable expectations and due to the fact that youth have a larger tendency towards excess in regards to pleasure than do adults and especially the elderly, the growth and maturation of an individuals ethical system will conversely see a decrease in the excess without damning the youth who engaged in such an act. Thus it is entirely proper for a college person to go out and party, as long as he is on the path to flourishing, because this path will slowly develop within him the framework and the habit of temperance enough to where he will always experience a maximum level of pleasure at a reduced actual intake. For Aristotle even says that what once was pleasurable to a person without the right dispositions will, upon gaining the proper dispositions, not become pleasurable (rarely does a person enjoy his first beer or cigar, but rather “gains a taste” for it). Thus a flourishing life is inseparable from the pleasant life, because to a flourishing and active organism, the pleasant is the act of flourishing.

In the true democratic spirit of Athens, Aristotle’s organic ethics is also applicable to all individuals[2] and not restricted to an elite class or a pre-chosen set of people. The objectivity of his organic ethics means that any man, because they are of the same species and possess the same tools (reason), can live a flourishing life. Though some individuals might flourish more than others, due to them being more wealthy or them being more philosophically oriented, it nevertheless is true that all men have the potential to flourish to the best of their abilities. Many other ethical systems can also claim to allow anybody to practice their system and gain the rewards thereof. However, it is a unique characteristic of organic ethics that the most that an individual can achieve is indeed the best, and that individual can be satisfied as opposed to being belittled by “moral superiors”. Anybody from the simple farmer to the wise philosopher has the ability to flourish and live a rewarding life. The role of fate in this situation is minimal, however it is important to remember that Aristotle does place fate as a component of happiness (an unforeseen mudslide can topple a tree; though rare, it can happen). Nevertheless, the majority of flourishing lies in the hands of the individual. Moreover, though he may not have stated it himself, Aristotle’s ethics laid the framework for the equality of all people regardless of race, gender, or sexual orientation. For Aristotle’s analysis that all men are the same basic species, and perform in the same basic ways, and can all reach the same basic level of flourishing, if taken to its logical conclusion, also means that all women are the same as well, that they too have the same faculties, and that they too can flourish just as well as men can (and the same for other minority groups). While it is true that Aristotle believed in barbarians, in brutes and savages, his evaluation of people as such was not an evaluation of an intrinsic character, bur rather an evaluation of a disposition brought about by culture and actions. Thus a barbarian was a barbarian because he was a human who was not acting qua human. Ultimately, though, it is a benefit of organic ethics that the good life, flourishing, is able to be reached by any human who so desires.

The concept of organic ethics leaves room for a few peculiar implications. Aristotle’s ethical framework allows for the possibility that the virtues he discusses may not be the correct virtues, and, akin to the Constitution, his ethical system may need “amendments” as time goes on. Interestingly enough, these “amendments” do not contradict Aristotle’s ethics, but rather, follow along in the exact metaethical framework that he set up. If mankind has a uniform nature and the same tool (reason), and mankind lives the best life when is he flourishing via virtuous activity guided by a rational principle, then those virtues which might be found not to be conducive, or optimally conducive, to a flourishing life are allowed to be discarded in favor of virtues which do. Thus it is necessary to distinguish between absolute and optional virtues, or rather, virtues that are objective and necessary, in all places, for all people, throughout time, and those virtues that may be more relevant to certain individuals in certain situations in a specific period of time. Though it is not my intention to delve into Aristotle’s normative ethics, an example might serve to further the point. It would be correct to say that temperance is a universal virtue, because the acts of eating, drinking (alcoholic or nonalcoholic), and sex are necessary to the very nature of man. Liberality, on the other hand, may not be so. Take the example of the pioneer family who does not have money, but takes from the land what they need (be it lumber or water or food). What use would liberality be to them? One might stretch the definition of liberality to include how the wife acts towards her children, or the husband to his wife, but this stretch seems unjustified. Unlike the modern urban city dweller, however, it could be said that “the virtue of land management” might be important to the pioneer, because his ability to flourish depends on his ability to properly manage his land, ensuring that the ground does not become “over-farmed”, that rivers are diverted enough to provide the right amount of water to his crops and livestock, and so on. Thus while lawn care might be a luxury for the urban dweller, land management would be a necessity for the pioneer, and the proper action in regards to this value would lead to a life of flourishing, whereas a poorly kept lawn will not cause the urban dweller to morally decay (though it could be said that his psychology might become more depressed). On the other hand, the “virtue of time management” may not be as important to the pioneer. Though he does have work to do, it does not necessarily matter that he finishes feeding the chickens at 5:00 a.m., that he milks the cows at exactly 6:15 a.m., and that he begins tilling his fields at 7:30 a.m. The urban dweller, however, finds time management to be of the utmost importance to him. The ability to properly manage his time ensures that he can keep his job (which leads to money, which leads to the many necessities and luxuries conducive to a flourishing life), that he watches his daughter’s softball game (which is necessary to ensure a positive and flourishing family life), and that he turns in his income tax form at the appropriate time. Thus time management is a very important virtue for the urban dweller, for the proper actualization of this virtue will yield a more flourishing life. Ironically, an organic ethics that promotes the growth and development of its adherents has itself the ability to grow and change while maintaining its same basic structure and same key attributes.

As was eluded to in the discussion of the egalitarian nature of Aristotle’s organic ethics, an organic ethics that places its objectivity in human nature has the ability to grow and develop from early human prejudices to modern human understandings. While Aristotle did not say that the Nicomachean Ethics was intended for women, and indeed it can be assumed that it was not, the very nature of Aristotle’s organic ethics means that once society advanced to the point of realizing that women were equal to men and shared the same basic nature, it was thus logical to assume that the same ethical system which allowed men to flourish would be the same ethical system which must allow women to flourish as well. For though the way in which each virtue is specifically practiced might be difference (for example, a woman on the battlefield; though in our modern world, even this is coming to be accepted), the fact is not changed that a woman can be just as courageous as a man. Similarly, a black homosexual man is by nature the same as a white heterosexual female, and thus just like her, it can be expected that a black homosexual man has the potential to be just as virtuous as anybody else. Yet even beyond this, Aristotle’s organic ethics has the ability to answer modern moral questions that did not exist in Aristotle’s own time, such as abortion. For it is one interpretation to say that a potentiality (a fetus) is not an actuality (a born human) similar to how a potential temperate man is not an actual temperate man. Though Aristotle did not directly discuss such issues, it can be rationally concluded from the framework that he set up that an organic ethics has the ability to expand and grow to new areas that Aristotle himself had no notion.

Aristotle’s organic ethics is vastly different than any other ethical system in philosophy. While most philosophical systems contain either a very rigid set of rules that one must follow in order to be “burdened” by morality, or a loose and subjective moral system that gives one the visage of morality while leading one down a path that is far from moral, it is unique that organic ethics allows for an objective system of morals that is applicable and true in almost any situation while also allowing the growth and flexibility needed to cater towards the specific peculiarities of each individual’s life. The benefits of the system not only lie in its accessible objectivity, but in its ability to grow and develop, custom tailored towards each individual. This means that any person must discover how to properly adhere to virtue in order to live a flourishing life. For morality is not a lifeless and rigid stone but is a flourishing and organic entity that will only enhance the life of its adherents by actualizing their potential.

 

 

 

 

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[1] See Aristotle’s account of Priam in EN I.ix.

[2] The term individuals here is understood as normal humans, functioning as they were intended to by nature, devoid of any ailments (such as mental retardation).

Obama: The Sophist

While reading through Obama's speech on Race I spotted a perfect example of sophistical argumentation, which really brings into light the essence of his whole ploy.

“...unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction - towards a better future for our children and our grandchildren.”

If I was to assert that justice, in the case of a wrongly convicted man, consists in releasing him, and another man was to assert that it consists in shooting him, we find, in this case, that we both share the same goal insofar as both of us want to “move in the same direction – towards” justice, but one of the proposed means is obviously fallacious – i.e not consistent with the meaning of justice. Thus the question is not whether you want to make a better future for your children and grandchildren, but rather in what that consists. The effectiveness of this sophistry is not to be doubted as any man may assume whatever implications please him. A communist may assume it consists in the destruction of the bourgeoisie, a socialist in the state control of property, and a feminist in the elimination of  “discrimination” against women by government regulation, etc. In this way he can please all of his supporters by not committing to anything in particular.

-Jeffrey Luebcke

A Debate Involving Wafa Sultan and some Commentary

There is an excellent new debate between Wafa Sultan and an Egyptian Islamist, where she verbally abuses this insolent and ignorant man.

In this debate between Wafa Sultan and Tal'at Rmeih, the latter claimed that he was "defending a magnificent past of a magnificent nation, which was the cradle of knowledge and civilization, at a time when the most that people in the West could do was to catch a rabbit and scurry back to their caves. This nation has made the greatest contribution to civilization and humanity.” Does he know that Thales, the first natural philosopher, lived eleven-hundred years before his Islamic “nation” was born or that Aristotle systematized philosophy and logic nine-hundred years prior to the same? The west is superior both in antiquity, which is not a just measure of a civilization at any rate, as well as in fact. I doubt it would be a stretch to say that anything good in the Islamic golden age was taken from the ancient West since nearly all the great Arabic philosophers of that time were Aristotelian or Platonic. Aristotle was referred to as the “wise man”, just as he was called “the master of those who know” by Dante or "the philosopher" by Thomas Aquinas.

--Jeffrey Luebcke

Worst of the Three Simple Forms of Government

There is great disagreement as to which is the worst of the three simple forms of degraded government. There are those who assert that the worst is the abuse of the mob, while some assert it is the despotism of a single tyrant. The two representatives of each case being Cicero and Aristotle respectively. I will approach this question first by putting forth the opinions of these great authors and then asserting my own opinion endeavoring to show that both forms are so intricately connected and bound up into one another as to be nearly indistinguishable; this is to say that tyranny almost always arises and is supported by the popular will.

Aristotle rests his argument upon the premise that a proper kingship requires a man to have the greatest virtue, thus the greatest harm will come from a man destitute of virtue, for he says, "And just as a royal rule, if not a mere name, must exist by virtue of some great personal superiority in the king, so tyranny, which is the worst of governments, is necessarily the farthest removed from a well-constituted form; oligarchy is little better, for it is a long way from aristocracy, and democracy is the most tolerable of the three." He reasons that a single corrupt man -- or indeed a few --  is liable to do more harm then the great mass of the people, as it is not as likely that the majority are to be simultaneously corrupted.

Cicero, on the other hand, shows his extreme contempt for popular rule, when he says, " There is no political constitution to which I more absolutely deny the name of a Commonwealth, than that in which all things lie in the power of the multitude." He goes on to say that this type of rule is the most odious because the mob can hide their crimes behind the mask of the people. The danger in this is clearly evident, since a man can say that it was not him who murdered but rather that it was an act of the people. Democracy is all the more noxious as the people can easily depose a tyrant or an oligarchy by sheer force and number, but the people, once they have become despotic have no one to oppose them except some minority which is necessarily oppressed under their weight.

Cicero can then be seen to be closer to the truth in this case, as history attests that it is the great movements of the people which have lead to the greatest tragedies. I would go even further by saying that a tyrant may only exist by the explicit approval or implicit acquiescence of the people. Hitler, Mussolini, and Joseph Stalin were not acting against the popular will, on the contrary the general population was their greatest bulwark! Communism, Nazism, and Fascism were all popular movements and were portrayed as such by their intellectual founders. Nearly every despot in history was raised to their position of power by the people and any one of them which long remained did so by their support.  This is why the tyrannicide Brutus was driven from Rome by the Romans and why the Republic after a long and bloody struggle fell at last to a Caesar's absolute power.

--Jeffrey Luebcke

God or Gods?

It is uncontroversial to state that the Old Testament and the New Testament represent different traditions; not only in the adherence to one or both of these books by Judaism or Christianity, but also in the fundamental shift in thought and action from the Old Testament to the New Testament. Upon closer inspection, a more controversial image is projected. Is the god of the Old Testament the same god as the New Testament? Mainline Christianity would unanimously state yes, as the union of the Old and New Testaments are essential to the well being and structural integrity of their religious system. Others would state that the Old Testament god is indeed a different and distinct entity from the New Testament god. In order to arrive at a proper conclusion, it is necessary to examine the original conception of “God” to the Jews and the Christians, and then compare their respective developments in order to understand if the Bible portrays one and the same deity, or distinct and separate deities.

 Judaism falls into the larger religious environment of the Ancient Near East, sharing similar customs and rituals with the Levant religions, including the Phoenician religion, and the religions of Sumeria, Babylon, and Assyria. Within this context, it is proper to assume that the earliest form of Judaic religion encompassed the polytheistic tendencies of its neighbors. Modern scholars, in fact, call pre-Abrahamic Judaism henotheistic (after the works of the prominent German scholar Max Mϋller), meaning that the early Jews believed in the existence of a large number of deities but excluded themselves to the strict devotion to only one of the gods (a similarity to this can be found in the revolution in Egyptian religion whereby Akhenaten tried to impose the strict worship of Aten in favor of all the other gods). Elements of the belief in more than one god can be found within the Old Testament itself, hinting at the earlier polytheistic beliefs of the Jews. Linguistically, Elohim and Adonai, two words used extensively in the Old Testament to refer to god, are plural nouns. This plurality is shown in Genesis 1:26, where it states, “And God [Elohim] said, Let us make man in our image.”[1] The Babylonian Captivity and the arrival of Abraham seems to mark a turning point in the development of Judaism, as Abraham made a covenant with Yahweh (the Hebrew god) that his people would worship only Yahweh, abandoning all the other gods. This strict covenant slowly began the degeneration of Judaic henotheism in favor of a new Judaic monotheism. Nevertheless, it is within this Near Eastern framework that many of the actions of Yahweh can be understood: his anger and wrath[2], his demand for law (as codified in the Ten Commandments and the Torah) and a strict adherence to a religious code, and his offer of salvation via qualitative adherence to this law. Save the monotheism, the other structural components of Judaism shared similarities with the other religions in the Near East.

 To understand Christianity, one must properly begin in Thrace. The very first known mystery cult in the Greco-Roman culture began in Thrace, where the worship of Dionysus and Sabazius found its way into mainland Greece, spreading and duplicating like a wildfire. Soon, many other mystery cults appeared, be they more original Greek beliefs like the Eleusinian Mysteries, Thracian Orphic Mysteries, or more Eastern Egyptian Isis Mysteries and Persian Mithras Mysteries. By the time of the birth of Christ, almost every major religion or religious segment had a corresponding mystery cult, save Judaism. But as Israel was conquered first by the Greeks, and later by the Romans, Greco-Roman ideas and culture slowly began to fuse itself with the native Jewish culture. It was thus inevitable that a new mystery cult would arise based upon the beliefs of Judaism: Christianity. Like most other mystery cults, Christianity based itself upon the mother religion (Judaism), and added a new set of customs (most mystery religions had a bread and wine ceremony, akin to the Christian Communion), and a new personal path for salvation via the resurrected savior[3].  Thus from the offset, Christianity differed dramatically from Judaism in regards to salvation; Judaism believed in salvation via adherence to the Law, whereas Christianity believed in salvation via the acceptance of Christ as savior. As the religion developed, other differences emerged as well, with Christianity abandoning the strict adherence to the law. The sacrifice of Christ and his compassion towards people also caused Christians to slowly begin to view their deity in a more optimistic and benevolent light. Thus the formation of the religion saw the need to restructure their supreme deity to fit the requirements of benevolence and compassion that Jesus taught. Like most other mystery cults, Christianity began as an obscure branch of Judaism which eventually, in order to justify its beliefs and strengthen its own religious structure, evolved to the point of being a separate and distinct religion.

 It is apparent to a neutral outside observer that Judaism and the god of the Old Testament is quite different from Christianity and the god of the New Testament. Where Yahweh was a Semitic/Near Eastern deity who evolved out of a completely Near Eastern environment, possessing extreme wrath, anger, and judgment, and offering a path of salvation via adherence to a law code, God the Father was an amalgamation of Semitic/Near Eastern religious attitudes and Greco-Roman religious attitudes, possessing benevolence and compassion, and offering a path of salvation via the new savior of mankind, Jesus Christ. The distinct nature of the two deities does not necessarily mean that a Jew or a Christian would believe in the incorporeal existence of two deities, but rather that the god of the Old Testament was different from the god from the New Testament. Attempts to explain this away have given rise to a number of wild stories which hold no serious philosophical or logical validity (for indeed, how could an omnipotent, omnibenevolent, omniscient being “change”?). However, to a neutral observer, it is clear that a religious evolution took place when the Judaic tradition came in contact with the Hellenistic tradition, spawning a child much different than, and at the same time a combination of, its parents. The question then of whether or not there are two deities can be answered with a firm yes, understood in the context that the Old Testament, embodying the Judaic faith, is only compatible with the New Testament, embodying the Christian faith, to the extent to which a child possesses the same genetic attributes of one of his parents: partial and important similarities, but at the same time, keen and distinct differences, leading to the development of an entirely new entity altogether. 

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[1] Cf. Genesis 3:22; 11:7; Isaiah 6:8.

[2] See 2 Samuel 6:6-11, Numbers 16:16-49, 1 Kings 20:30, 1 Samuel 6:19, and 2 Kings 2:23-24.

[3] Cf. the ideas of resurrection, salvation by a savior, and god coming down as a mortal in the mystery cults of Orpheus, Isis, Serapis, and Mithras.

John, Faust, Plato, Aristotle

    John 1:1, in the New Testament, states, "In the beginning was the word."  In Koine Greek, the word logos means, "something said (e.g. word; saying;message; teaching; talk)."  About 1.5 thousand years later, Goethe, through his character Faust, took a very interesting take on this passage.  At 1224-1237, Faust says:
                    "'In the beginning was the Word': why, now
                    I'm struck already! I must change that; how?
                    Is then 'the word' so great and high a thing?
                    There is some other rendering.
                    Which with the spirit's guidance I must find.
                    We read: 'In the beginning was the Mind.'
                    Before you write this first phrase, think again;
                    Good sense eludes the overhasty pen.
                    Does 'mind' set worlds on their creative course?
                    It means: 'In the beginning was the Force.'
                    So it should be-but as I write this too,
                    Some instinct warns me that this will not do.
                    The spirit speaks! I see how it must read,
                    And boldly write, 'In the beginning was the Deed!'"
If one reads this without much thought, you would accuse Goethe of merely tossing the mind, or reason, aside.  However, I think the implications here are much deeper, stemming back to that eternal debate between Plato and Aristotle: thought or action, word or deed?
    Plato says that pure knowledge is sufficient, that if one merely knows what the good is, then someone will be good.  Aristotle, on the other hand, rejects this notion.  Aristotle states that knowledge alone is not sufficient, but rather it takes action.  It is not the man who knows what the good is, but who actually does it!  Suppose that you were getting ready to get on an airplane, and you had to choose between two pilots.  One had read all the manuals, knew all the physics, mechanics, and engineering behind flight and the airplane, had seen a thousand how-to videos on flying, but had actually never flown a plane.  The other guy started out as an apprentice to a pilot, observing what he does and how he does it, slowly beginning to a fly a plane on his own, until eventually now he has been flying for twenty years.  Which pilot would you choose?
    One could argue against this point with the maxim, "Think before you act."  However, I do not think that this maxim applies-the real debate is not between pure thought and pure action, but rather how one relates to the world.  Are you an Ivory Towered intellectual, sitting away at your armchair, deducing how the world works?  Or, are you likened to a child again, constantly examining the world, taking in as much experience as possible, and from this forming your ideas?  Philosophically, this distinction is called deductive versus inductive reasoning.  Plato and John would state that the world must be understood via deductive reasoning, by starting first with the "word", with the "idea", and taking this "knowledge" and then applying it to the world.  Aristotle, Goethe, and Ayn Rand would state that the world must be understood via inductive reasoning, by starting first with the "deed", with the "action", and taking a collection of the knowledge gained via experience, organizing it in our head, finding a common denominator between actions, and forming our ideas from the world.
    Of course it stands to reason that if your "word" is based upon previous experience and subsequent reasonings, then it is okay to use this knowledge in order to apply it to future situations.  This is not deductive reasoning.  But what always must be remembered is that before the "word" came the "deed", and a mind which constantly seeks the real through the active process of experiencing the world will be safely able to fly the plane of life.

An Anecdote Concerning Cassius

Cassius was a friend of Brutus who died at the same battle after which Brutus ended his own life. Brutus called him "the last of the Romans". He was more enthusiastic in the removal of Caesar then even Brutus himself, though it is reported that this zeal had more to do with private enmity than a principled defense of liberty; this fact renders him less noble then a Cicero or a Brutus but the sentiment in this extract, taken from Plutarch's Life of Marcus Brutus, still ought to be appealing.

For Cassius had from his youth a natural hatred and rancor against the whole race of tyrants, which he showed when he was but a boy, and went to the same school with Faustus, the son of Sylla; for, on his boasting himself among the boys, and extolling the sovereign power of his father, Cassius rose up and struck him two or three boxes on the ear; which when the guardians and relations of Faustus designed to inquire into and to prosecute, Pompey forbade them, and, sending for both the boys together, examined the matter himself. And Cassius is then reported to have said thus, "Come, then, Faustus, dare to speak here those words that provoked me, that I may strike you again as I did before." Such was the disposition of Cassius.
-Plutarch's Lives Volume II, the Modern Library Edition, Translated by John Dryden on page 577-578

In a somewhat related strain, we have a quote from Thomas Gordon in his defense of Brutus for having slain Caesar. It was written in the begining of the 18th century in that elegant style which helps to render pleasant the conclusions of reason. In addition to being a passionate defense of Brutus it strikes against that ridiculous notion of Christianity which renders the mere act of existing as a duty turning suffering into an act of virtue. Happiness, it is rightly concluded, is the sole end of life, that object for which everything else ought to be done, and thus when it is no longer possible, life is no longer a positive value.

It was a Roman spirit; and those who possessed it, did as much disdain to be tyrants, as to submit to tyranny, a spirit that scorned an ignominious life, held only at the mercy of an usurper, or by flattering his villainy, and abetting his usurpations; and a spirit, which those that want it can never admire.... It is undoubtedly true, that by the percepts of Christianity we are not at liberty to dispose of our own lives; but are to wait for the call of heaven to alleviate or end our calamities: But the Romans had no other laws to act by, but the natural dictates of uncorrupted reason. I call upon the great pretenders to philosophy and refined morals, to assign one fair reason, why a Roman, why Brutus and Cassius, should prefer a miserable life to an honourable death; should bear vassalage, chains, and tortures of body or mind, when all those evils were to be avoided by doing only that, which, by the course of nature, every man must soon do. It is better not to be, than to be unhappy...

-Letter 56 from Cato's Letters, By Thomas Gordon and John Trenchard

 

-Jeffrey Luebcke

America, Beware...

     America is facing a danger much greater than the liberals or the conservative Christians, more ominous than postmodernism or her intellectuals, more insiduous even than Islamofascism.  This may seem odd coming from me, lover of Capitalism, material success, and secularism.  The danger is oppulence, or more specifically, how the average citizen handles such wealth.  The West has survived long enough under the burden of hideous philosophy and despicable politicians, a battle which is valiantly being fought by Objectivism.  But no movement today is correctly battling the wide acceptance by the average person of hedonism.  As I have displayed earlier in what I wrote concerning Aristotle and Hedonism, it is hedonism that has the ability to corrupt the very morality and sense of life of the average citizen in such a way that the pursuit of better values is seemingly impossible. 

     Wealth is a very funny thing; indeed, a double-edged sword.  For while it can provide a society with the greatest of benefits, ranging from the basic requirements of food, health, and shelter, to a greater enjoyment of life in nice clothes, nice food, a nice house, music, movies, cell phones, and computers, wealth also has the ability to destroy a society who does not know how to properly use and handle money.  Historically, one need only look at Classical Athens, a society who at one time gave the world some of its greatest philosopy, art, science, literature, which in a matter of only one hundred years lost herself in her own oppulence and wealth; a society who defeated the Persians at Marathon so spectacularly eventually was utterly defeated by the Macedonians due to the effete and oppulent nature of the Athenian population.  Rome, too, offers a historical anecdote, for the once mighty, masculine, and virtuous Rome who defeated Hannibal and conquered the entire known world eventually succumbed, in its own hedonism, to the barbaric and savage German tribes who at one time had been nothing but a mere annoyance.

     Even Ayn Rand noticed this distinction in wealth, and the virtue of proper wealth management, in her novel "Atlas Shrugged".  Notice the difference between characters like Dagny Taggart or Hank Rearden who properly managed their wealth, living almost Stoic lives, using wealth in a proper manner to afford them an enjoyable life.  Contrast this with characters like Jim Taggart, who improperly squandered his wealth on such hedonistic things as parties, alcohol, flagrant wealth, and sex.  Those who enjoyed their wealth properly lived very virtuous and moral lives, allowing money to add to their existence, while those who improperly used wealth lived highly immoral lives and ultimately were faced with a sad and miserable future.

     It is very difficult to see this distinction between proper and improper use of wealth.  Yet the problem with wealth lies not as much with the older generations, who had grown up with a proper moral structure which by the time of America's oppulence had had proper moral habits to combat this influence, but the youth who, though many had been properly raised, had not ingrained within themselves the moral habits strong enough to withstand the onslought of hedonism.  The nihilistic and destructive nature of hedonism means that these youths, so ingrained in their clubs, parties, drinking, and sexuality would be lucky to escape in time to turn out okay as they age, for many will sadly suffer the effete laziness and apathy that results from a hedonistic lifestyle.  Who needs war when we could have peace?  Where is the government to help us out of our crises? they shout from the comfort of their padded lifestyle.  The Iranians are not our enemy, they just think differently than us, but we are bad for judging them upon our standards-they cry as they sip their Starbuck's Mocha Frapuccinos, their iPods in their ears and their laptops at their side.

     The solution, then, must be a campaign by these people's friends and families, by your average Joe, who realizes the dangers of hedonism and oppulence, to stop the tide of our demise before we too will be faced with a Macedon or a Vandal whom we cannot control.

---Jason Roberts

Aristotle and Death Happiness

The primary focus of Book I of the Nichomachean Ethics lies in Aristotle’s attempt to define and flesh out the meaning and nature of happiness. In chapters x and xi, Aristotle asks an intriguing question: can the happiness of those not living be in any way affected? This small detour in the larger body of Aristotle’s ethics has received little scholarly attention[1], making it all the more intriguing. However, before a more critical examination and analysis of Aristotle’s question can occur, it is necessary to: define and flesh out the actual meaning of the terms ευδαιμονια and ψυχη, understand the broader cultural and philosophical understandings of death, the soul, and immortality in the Greek world, and investigate Aristotle’s own views of the soul and the body, before moving on to a closer examination of what Aristotle actually meant in EN I.x-xi so that thus, with the issue being properly examined in a contextual manner, an evaluation of Aristotle’s claim can be made.

 

I. Definitions

 

It is always necessary to begin by defining one’s terms; in the realm of translated philosophy even more so due to the bias of the translators and the differences in linguistic systems. One word that has plagued translators is ευδαιμονια, which has been roughly translated into English as “happy” or “the happy life”. Liddell and Scott define ευδαιμονια[2] as, “prosperity, happiness” which of course shows the difficulty of translating the word. However, they define ευδαιμων[3] as, “with a good genius or destiny, fortunate, prosperous”. This definition is more close to the actual definition of the Greek word, which is actually a composite of two words: ευ[4], which means “well, luckily, the right, the good” or ευς[5], the word from which ευ is the neuter, as “good, brave, noble”; and δαιμων[6], which means “fate, fortune, destiny; one’s fate or lot”. Thus, when combined together, the word properly means something akin to “the right destiny or a good fortune.” An obvious distinction, then, between the Greek word and the English word is the difference between a long-term state of being in a good condition (ευδαιμων) and a fleeting emotion or a long-term state of an emotion (happy)[7].

The other word that presents some difficulty when being translated into English is “ψυχη”, which is traditionally translated as “soul”. However, this translation once again carries with it the philosophical baggage of the English language, so influenced by Christianity and Descartes that “soul” is identified as a separate and distinct object from the body. Contrary to this view, the Greek word (and the original, non mystery cult/Platonic meaning of the word)[8] meant, “breath, life, spirit; the seat of will, desires, passions.”[9] Notice the corporeality of the soul inherent within this definition; the soul was no more separate from the body than the eye is separate from sight; for the soul was a function of the body in a similar manner as sight is a function of the eye. Through a complex philosophical devolution[10], the word arrived at its more modern meaning.

These two words are crucial to a more precise understanding of Aristotle and his views of death. Ευδαιμονια is the end or purpose of life. The entire EN can be said to be a work on how to arrive at ευδαιμονια and thus is the central theme of the work. Ψυχη, on the other hand, does not play a central role in the EN. However, in order to understand why Aristotle would even ask the question of ευδαιμονια after death, it is essential to understand Aristotle’s view of the ψυχη and whether or not the ψυχη “carries” ευδαιμονια with it after death.

 

II. The Greeks, the Ψυχη, Death, and Immortality

 

Edith Hamilton fittingly said of the Greeks that:

“With the coming forward of Greece, mankind became the center of the universe, the most important thing in it. This was a revolution of thought…in Greece alone in the ancient world people were preoccupied with the visible; they were finding the satisfaction of their desires in what  was actually in the world around them…anyone who reads them with attention discovers that even the most nonsensical take place in a world which is essentially rational and matter of fact.”[11]

It is of the utmost importance to understand that the Greeks, unlike almost every other culture in the world, had no conception of a mind-body dichotomy. The mind to the Greek world was corporeal; the ψυχη[12] was inseparable from the body. Our earliest source, Homer, although steeped in the early mythology and mysticism of Archaic Greece, nevertheless did not conceive of a soul separate from the body. The visitation of Akilleus by the dead Patroklos did not involve a disembodied spirit traveling from the underworld to the realm of man, but rather the visitation of a shade or image, devoid of reason and emotion and desire (ψυχη). This shade could speak, but he was not a liberated substance out of the prison of the body.[13] This traditional religious view of the unity of mind and body after death was highly prevalent throughout Archaic and early-Classical Greece; indeed, it was not until the arrival of the mystery cults from Thrace, such as the cults of Dionysios and Orpheos, and their codification by philosophers such as Pythagoras[14] and Plato, that the mind-body dichotomy came into existence in the Greek common conscious. Yet even with the arrival of these cults, it took a few centuries before the orgiastic debauchery of the mind-body dichotomy cults became a powerful driving force[15].

Pythagoras, to an extent, brought the concept of the mind-body dichotomy out of the pedestrian mystery cults and into the intellectual realm via his idea of the reoccurrence of the soul. Plato, however, did much more to flesh out and promote this savage mysticism. Not only did Plato borrow the ideas of the transmigration of the soul and reincarnation from the mystery cults, but he also expanded upon the mind-body dichotomy in his realm of Forms. For indeed, the Forms, unlike the earlier Greek conception of the gods who existed in strict contrast to man[16], instilled the notion of an immortal soul that eventually came to be a powerful force in the Greek intellectual scene. The Forms viciously stripped the soul out of its corporeal prison and elevated it into the realm of the divine. This meant that the ψυχη, the seat of emotions, desires, and the will, was able, alongside the mind with its reason, to continue its existence after the corporeal prison died. Thus it was very proper, especially in the later Platonic tradition, the neo-Pythagorean tradition, and the mystery cults, to think of the soul after death as retaining anthropic characteristics. Though the details were debated (Could the ψυχη, in the face of such perfection, actually become sad? Did it actually join the Forms, or God, or did it exist in another realm?), nevertheless it was true that one could state that soul A, having lived a good life, was ευδαιμων after death.

Save Pythagoras and Plato, the majority of Greek philosophy before the Hellenistic age built upon the framework set up by Homer. Metaphysically, Aristotle belonged to a line of philosophers with the likes of Democritus who espoused a non-supernatural, materialistic view of the world, the gods, and the afterlife. Sextus Empiricus remarks that Democritus, “…says that men in the distant past, remarking the events of the upper air-thunder and lightning, thunderbolts and conjunctions of stars, and eclipses of sun and moon-were frightened, thinking gods to be their cause.”[17] Thus Democritus explains the supernatural as a pre-rational attempt to define the unknown. Aristotle seems to have built upon the theories of Democritus, in typical Aristotelian fashion, and adopted a modified materialist view of the world[18]. The materialist, due to the fact that they believed the ψυχη to consist of the same basic elements as the body, did not conceive of a corporeal prison holding a transcendent and immortal ψυχη. When the body ceased to exist, so too did the ψυχη; when the heart stopped pumping blood, so too did the ψυχη stop desiring. Death meant the death of body and ψυχη. By the time of Aristotle, the supernaturalism of Homer had been cast off, leaving only one possibility for immortality: τιμη[19]. If by the end of one’s lifetime an individual had attained the status of ευδαιμονια, then they had in effect “won” the contest of life and received the proper accolades of τιμη or honor. Their immortality was the immortality of fame throughout time; to this day, people still read and praise Homer, movies are made in celebration of the Spartan 300, and Socrates is still admired as the paragon of intellectual activity. The materialist would say that they had acquired so much τιμη in their own lifetime through their achievements that it propelled their shade or image into the distant future.[20] Yet even those individuals who had not done something heroic nevertheless experienced immortality with their friends and family. The concept is akin to a star that, though having been dead for thousands of years, still shines on to us today.

Thankfully, Aristotle lived at the exact end of Classical Greece and thus was not alive to witness the collapse of Greek culture into a culture of revelry, debauchery, and mysticism. Thus there is no need to examine subsequent views; it is only relevant to note that Aristotle came from a vastly different school of thought than Plato. Aristotle, the materialists, and the majority of pre-Hellenic Greek culture, on the one hand, did not believe in an actual “life after death”; Plato and the mystery cults, on the other hand, did.

 

III. Aristotle on Ευδαιμονια, Ψυχη, and Death Happiness

 

In the EN, Aristotle lays out an entire account of how an individual might obtain ευδαιμονια. For indeed, he states that ευδαιμονια ought to be the ultimate aim or goal of life towards which all actions and contemplations are directed. Aristotle states, “Ευδαιμονια, then, is found to be something perfect and self-sufficient, being the end to which our actions are directed.”[21] But does he mean “happiness”, as we understand it? Or, is Aristotle talking about something entirely different? Focusing on the definition of ευδαιμονια as the right destiny or good fortune, one can clearly see that Aristotle was aiming for an entity or goal far more broad than just an emotional state of being. The man who had obtained ευδαιμονια not only lived a virtuous life, but also had good friends, a good family, was materially prosperous, and followed the Delphic maxim of γνωθι σεαυτον, or contemplation. In a famous passage of the EN, I.ix, Aristotle states that the mythical Priam was very virtuous, but after the fall of Troy, he could not be considered to have ευδαιμονια due to the loss of his friends, his family, his nation, and his prosperity. Similarly, the Greeks viewed with disdain the opulent Persians (save Cyrus the younger) because, though they had prosperity and most likely good friends and family, they lacked the Greek idea of virtue.

Due to Aristotle being a materialist and thus not believing in a mind-body dichotomy, it is clear that even those attributes of the mind and ψυχη, such as virtue and contemplation, were viewed just as corporeally as prosperity, friends, and family. Nowhere in the entire Aristotelian corpus does Aristotle speak of an “inner eye”, of “divine knowledge”, of a “higher state of ecstasy” achieved through ritualistic dance, of wisdom as a Form, of virtues existing in the realm of the gods which reason attained, or of ευδαιμονια existing outside of the realm of the real. Ευδαιμονια, then, was a worldly state of being, attained via a worldly pursuit of the right objects, and existing within each individual to the extent to which this person had attained the necessary attributes. Moreover, Aristotle states, “One swallow does not make a summer; neither does one day. Similarly neither can one day, or a brief space of time, make a man blessed and happy.”[22] Ευδαιμονια, then, is not the golden ticket found randomly or by luck inside a Wonka Bar, nor is it the planned and calculated winning of a marathon. Ευδαιμονια is the sum of all of its parts over a long period of time.

Aristotle himself discusses the link between the ψυχη and ευδαιμονια when he states, at EN I.xiii, “...ευδαιμονια is an activity of the ψυχη in accordance with perfect virtue.” The chapter then continues with a brief overview of the ψυχη as having two parts: the rational and the irrational. Aristotle states that the irrational part of the ψυχη consists of the vegetative part, which he says is the cause for nutrition and growth, and the desiring part (Plato calls this the appetitive), which he explains as the element that drives us either to good or to bad things and is thus “semi”-receptive to reason. The rational part of the ψυχη, on the other hand, consists of our ability to reason. The proper or healthy ψυχη comes about when a person uses his reason to guide the irrational part of the ψυχη. Unfortunately, the account of the ψυχη is very brief in the EN; Aristotle continues his discussion of continence and incontinence later on in Book VII, but this account focuses more on the application of or relationship of the desiring element with reason or virtue.

Ever the scientist and philosopher, Aristotle expanded upon his view of the ψυχη, writing an entire work devoted to the subject entitled De Anima (Latin for: “Concerning the ψυχη”). From the beginning, Aristotle states that, “We must…repeat that the affections of ψυχη are inseparable from the material substratum of animal life.”[23] It is clear from this materialist view that Aristotle does not conceive of the ψυχη as an independent, incorporeal, “immortal” entity separate and distinct from the body. Rather, though it is distinct, it is built from the same basic elements. Aristotle even takes a jab at Pythagoras when he states, “…as if it were possible, as in the Pythagorean myths, that any ψυχη could be clothed upon with any body-an absurd view.”[24] Though it is clear that Aristotle believes the ψυχη to be distinct from the body (as the eyes, as an entity, are distinct from the action of seeing; the eye is the cause or origin behind the act of seeing), it is incorrect to take this distinction and automatically assign to Aristotle the belief that the ψυχη is separate from the body (as a passenger on a cruise ship is separate from the vessel itself, merely along for the ride). This distinction is because Aristotle believes the ψυχη to be the originator of movement or motion within the body. The emotion of anger “makes” the blood boil, which thus moves the body to act in an angry manner (or to acknowledge the anger “boiling” inside of himself but to act contrary to his ψυχη). Aristotle continues his attack on the mind-body dichotomy when he states:

“...in the ‘Orphic’ poems…it is said that the ψυχη comes in from the whole when breathing  takes place, being borne upon the winds. Now this cannot take place in the case of plants, nor  indeed in the case of certain classes of animals, for not all classes of animals breathe. This fact  has escaped the notice of the holders of this view.”[25]

Here Aristotle shows himself as the scientist, stating that all living things have some version of a ψυχη because all living things are “moved” to act in certain ways[26]. Man thus cannot be unique in having a supernatural “ψυχη”, as is suggested by the mystery cults, because all living things have a ψυχη. Aristotle concludes his investigation into the definition of the ψυχη by stating, “From this it indubitably follows that the ψυχη is inseparable from its body…for the actuality of some of them [parts of the soul] is nothing but the actualities of their bodily parts.”[27]

What, then, does this say about the relationship between ευδαιμονια and the ψυχη? Ευδαιμονια, as an activity of the ψυχη, seemingly cannot exist with the death of the actuality of the ψυχη. For indeed the death of the body means the cessation of movement and generation, which in turn means the cessation of the ψυχη. This is the reason why EN I.x-xi is so perplexing, for Aristotle says, “So it appears that the dead are affected to some extent by the good fortunes of those whom they love, and similarly by their misfortunes.”[28] Though it is true that Aristotle states that these events, as not being the primary attributes of ευδαιμονια, do not have the potential to make a ευδαιμων individual non ευδαιμων, as it is while they are living, it is still true that these actions can indeed have an affect upon the quality of the ευδαιμονια of the individual. Even though Aristotle does say that friends, family, and prosperity are key attributes of ευδαιμονια, how could these things have any impact upon a ψυχη that is not in existence to experience them?

 

IV. The Answer and Analysis

 

The answer to this dilemma can be found almost 400 years before Aristotle lived in the epics of Homer. As was stated earlier, to the materialist, immortality or life after death was characterized by τιμη. The τιμη that Akilleus had accrued was so great that he lived on in the minds of individuals for millennia. For Aristotle, the τιμη[29] of any individual lived on in relation to the magnitude of his impact. This is why Aristotle states, when speaking to the majority of humans as opposed to heroes exclusively, in EN I.x-xi that the ευδαιμονια of the dead could in fact be affected by the fortunes, or the vicissitudes of fate, of his friends and family. Let us create a hypothetical situation. George Washington had a son, John Washington, who also strove to be in politics. George Washington, renowned in his own time, lived a very virtuous and prosperous life. When he died, it could be properly said that he had ευδαιμονια. After his death, his son John led a revolution in favor of the British. This revolution was so bloody and caused such widespread destruction that the struggling United States was forced to give all of the southern states to Britain and the remaining northern states were forced to become vassal states of Britain until eventually, 200 years later, they were freed as their own country. In this hypothetical situation, though George Washington himself had lived a life of ευδαιμονια, the impact of John Washington cast a very dark image upon the name “Washington”, so that George Washington today was nearly forgotten. Though these actions, as bad as they were, did not “make” George Washington non ευδαιμονια, they nevertheless affected his “blessedness” or the maximization of his ευδαιμων.

Let us take another hypothetical situation on a much smaller scale. Sarah is a loving mother of two who works in an office. She has lived a very virtuous life, has a wonderful family, endearing friends, and has made enough money to live comfortably. Upon her death, her friends reveal that they were only friends with her because it made them “look good” being seen around such a nice and good person. Her children used their inheritance to start a drug business that is eventually discovered by the police, who arrest them. Though Sarah had all of the requirements for a life of ευδαιμονια, the horrendous actions that occurred after her death stripped away her friends, her family, and her prosperity, leaving her only with her virtue. Thus it can be said that the ευδαιμονια of Sarah was lowered by these action.

The affect upon the ευδαιμονια of the dead does not always have to be negative; it can indeed be a positive thing. Let us say that when Sarah died, her friends cherished her memory so much that they established a “Sarah” club to spread her optimism and virtue. Similarly, her sons took the inheritance money and started a company, named in her honor, which rapidly became a Fortune 500 company. In this situation it could be said that the ευδαιμονια of Sarah was increased due to the great fortunes of her loved ones after death.

To Aristotle, the vicissitudes of fortune play an important role in the ευδαιμονια of an individual. Even though they themselves have died, fate has the ability to affect those components of the ευδαιμονια of the dead person, for not all of the friends and family of the deceased have died, and thus the degree of ευδαιμονια of the dead individual is semi-dependent upon those still living. Aristotle says, “So it appears that the dead are affected to some extent by the good fortunes of those whom they love, and similarly by their misfortunes.”[30] It is apparent from this to assume that, the degree to which time passes and the loved ones of the individual die, is the degree to which the affects of fortune diminish their impact upon the ευδαιμονια of the individual. By fully understanding the context within which Aristotle wrote and viewing death ευδαιμονια through such a lens, the perplexities of I.x-xi can be sorted out and understood.

Yet now comes the ultimate question: is Aristotle correct in his assertion that the ευδαιμονια of a dead person can be affected? Once again, we must start at the beginning: what is the nature of the ψυχη and is there a mind-body dichotomy? If we use the Aristotelian definition of the ψυχη as the seat of human desires, passions, the will, and reason, and discard the notion of the ψυχη as the originator of movement in favor of a more scientific understanding of the nature of movement, it can be concluded that the ψυχη of an individual is similar to what we in the modern world call the mind. Leonard Peikoff states:

  “The theory of a mind-body conflict, which has corrupted every branch and issue of philosophy,  does have its root in a real conflict, but of a special kind. Its root is a breach between some men’s consciousness and existence. In this sense, the basis of the theory is not reality, but a human error:  the error of turning away from reality, of refusing to accept the absolutism of the metaphysically  given.”[31]

It is interesting to note that the origins of the mind-body split in Greece came from the mystery cults. They derived this conclusion because of their special religious practices: the women in the cult would gather around in a circle, drinking highly intoxicating alcohol, smoking hallucinatory seeds, dancing to the point of exhaustion, and wailing, screeching, and ululating. The men would sit outside the circle, also drinking the highly potent alcohol and smoking the hallucinatory seeds, banging on drums. In the middle of the circle was a sacrificial victim, and the women, after reaching the point of exhaustion, would rush forward and tear the animal apart, taking the limbs and eating them raw, smearing the blood all over their naked body. The “mania” or ecstasy achieved by such an act convinced the cultist that they were communing with the “divine”, and thus lead them to believe that their souls were the only thing “heightened” enough to commune with the divine. From this belief, it was concluded that the soul was in fact distinct from the body, and only a special ritual could allow the soul to be “free” for a fleeting moment from its bodily prison.[32] The philosophers, such as Plato, picked up these beliefs and discarded the actions in favor of another ritual, “reason”, by which the soul could transcend the mortal realm and communicate with the divine. Inherent in these ideas is a rejection of the actual facts of existence in favor of the primacy of consciousness, attained by a special ritual, which itself could reject the metaphysically given in favor of the metaphysically unknown. Reality itself actually exists, independent of our ψυχη, which itself is just the means by which we understand, interpret, or comprehend that which is in front of us. It is self-evident then that the ψυχη is but merely a tool, an attribute of the body and thus inseparable from it.

Aristotle also appears to be correct in his definition of ευδαιμονια. The “good life” of an individual cannot just contain his virtue. Using the example of Aristotle, Priam lived a highly virtuous life. Before the Trojan War he was described as having ευδαιμονια. But after the war, though he retained his virtue, the loss of everything else led him to become miserable. This is because a “good life” is not a fleeting emotion (for it is assumed that even Hitler had happy moments), or state of an emotion (it is probable that a mafia lord could have a state of happiness), but is the combination of living life well (self-esteem generated through the efficacy of an individual actualizing and maintaining his virtues), having good friends and a good family (for no man is an island, and regardless of his virtue can no man have a good life alone), and being prosperous (always having to struggle to pay bills, eating ramen noodles, and watching your children go hungry is not as good as living a comfortable life). Having ευδαιμονια then must include a variety of things: virtue, good friends and family, and comfortable living via general prosperity.

What then of the individual who has ευδαιμονια but has died? If ευδαιμονια is dependent upon things outside of one’s own body, such as friends, family, and prosperity, then ευδαιμονια is dependent upon things outside of an individual’s direct control. As there is no ψυχη which, upon death, floats up to heaven to join the divine, it must be concluded that the death of an individual also entails the death of the virtue of said individual. The external entities, however, remain after his death. Thus, as in the examples given above, were tragedy or fortune to befall these external entities after the death of an individual, it is indeed reasonable to conclude that the overall state of the ευδαιμονια of that individual would suffer. Aristotle, once again, seems correct in his analysis of death ευδαιμονια. Thus this author whole-heatedly agrees with the evaluation of Aristotle.

With this assumption, it becomes necessary for any individual striving to achieve a state of ευδαιμονια to mind not only his own virtues, but to carefully choose his friends, work well to strengthen the bond and improve his family, and insure some means of prosperity after death. In this world where death is the end, it is a proper desire for every individual to strive to have some sort of immortality. This immortality, of course, can be achieved through accomplishing extraordinary deeds. But more importantly, to achieve a state of ευδαιμονια, we must endeavor while we are alive to strengthen the bonds with wonderful people, be they our friends or family, and to protect our prosperity so that not even death can take such wonderful things away from us.

 

Bibliography

 

Aristotle. J.A.K. Thomson, translator. “Nicomachean Ethics.” London: Penguin Classics. 1953.

 

Aristotle. McKeon, Richard, ed. “On Democritus.” Fr. 208.; “Metaphysics.” 985b4-20.; “On Generation and Corruption.” 316a13-b16.; “On the Soul.” New York: Random House. 1941.

 

Gooch, Paul W. “Aristotle and the Happy Dead.” Classical Philology. Vol 78, No.2. April, 1983. 112-116.

 

Hamilton, Edith. Mythology. New York: Warner Books. 1942. 16-17.

 

Herodotus. Aubrey de Selincourt, translator. “The Histories.” Penguin: New York. 1954.

 

Liddell and Scott. Liddell and Scott’s Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1891.

 

Livy. Gary Forsythe, ed. “History of Rome: XXXIX.” Bryn Mawr: Bryn Mawr. 1994.

 

Peikoff, Leonard. “Objectivism: The Philosophy of Ayn Rand.” New York: Meridian. 1991.

 

Pritzl, Kurt. “Aristotle and Happiness after Death: Nicomachean Ethics 1. 10-11.” Classical Philology, Vol. 78, No. 2. April, 1983. 101-111.

 

Rhode, Erwin. “Psyche: The Cult of Souls and Belief in Immortality among the Greeks.” London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner, & Co., Ltd. 1925.

 

Roberts, John ed. The Oxford Dictionary of the Classical World. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2005.

 

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[1] See Kurt Pritzl. “Aristotle and Happiness after Death: Nicomachean Ethics 1. 10-11.” Classical Philology, Vol. 78, No. 2. April, 1983. 101-111. and also Paul W. Gooch. “Aristotle and the Happy Dead.” Classical Philology. Vol 78, No.2. April, 1983. 112-116

[2] “ευδαιμονια.” Liddell and Scott’s Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1891. 280.

[3] Ibid., “ευδαιμων.”

[4] Ibid., “ευ.” at 278.

[5] Ibid., “ευς.” at 288.

[6] Ibid., “δαιμων.” at 148.

[7] While it is true that the English definition of happy can have a similar meaning to ευδαιμονια, it is a mistake to take the philosophical baggage of “happy” and try and equate it with the philosophical baggage of “ευδαιμων”. Thus it must always be kept in mind that ευδαιμων encompasses a far greater range of things than just a “happy” life, as Aristotle discusses in Book I of the EN.

[8] This point will be examined in greater detail in a succeeding section.

[9] Ibid., “ψυχη.” at 798.

[10] For more on this complex devolution, see the wonderful and insightful work by Erwin Rhode, “Psyche: The Cult of Souls and Belief in Immortality among the Greeks.” London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner, & Co., Ltd. 1925.

[11] Edith Hamilton, Mythology. New York: Warner Books. 1942. 16-17.

[12] Mind and soul, in ways synonymous in the modern world, will henceforth be used interchangeably in order to allow a more thorough understanding of the Greek view.

[13] For more on the Homeric conception of the afterlife, see Rohde, “Psyche”.

[14] There is wide scholarly debate concerning the influences upon Pythagoras. Nevertheless, a general direction or idea may be taken from Herodotus when he says, in his Histories IV.95, that, “…Salmoxis…was a man, and lived in Samos, where he was a slave in the household of Pythagor