ARISTOTLE

Nicomachean
Ethics

Translated with an
Introduction and Notes by
MARTIN OSTWALD

U£C
Library of Liberal Arts
NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

The Library of Liberal Arts

OSKAR PIEST,FOUNDER
NICOMACHEAN
ETHICS

Aristotle

Translated, with introduction and notes, by

Martin Ostwald

The Library of Liberal Arts

published by

Prentice Hall
Upper Saddle River, New Jersey 07458
Library of Congress Card Number: 62-15690

Designed by Andrew P. Kner

© 1999 by Prentice Hall, Inc.

Upper Saddle River, NJ 07458

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be

reproduced, in any form or by any means,
without permission in writing from the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

50 49 48 47 46 45 44 43

ISBN D-DE-3flTS3D-b

Prentice-Hall International (UK) Limited, London

Prentice-Hall of Australia Pty. Limited, Sydney

Prentice-Hall of Canada, Inc., Toronto

Prentice-Hall Hispanoamericana, S. A., Mexico

Prentice-Hall of India Private Limited, New Delhi
Prentice-Hall of Japan, Inc., Tokyo

Pearson Education Asia Pte. Ltd., Singapore

Editora Prentice-Hall do Brasil, Ltda., Rio de Janeiro
 PREFACE
The present annotated translation of Aristotle's Nicoma-
chean Ethics is, most translations, primarily intended for
like
those who know or no Greek; its aim is to introduce the
little

modern reader to Aristotle's most important contribution to

ethical theory. I consequently have tried to make the text as
readable as possible within the demand for a faithful and ac-
curate rendering of the original.
Since Aristotle created rather than perpetuated a consistent
philosophical vocabulary, I abandoning the
felt justified in

conventional translations of certain key words and concepts,

hallowed though they are by tradition. To speak, for example,
of "profligacy," "continence," or "temperance" in the twentieth
century is either to distort Aristotle's meaning or to establish
a block between him and ourselves; "self-indulgence," "moral
strength," and "self-control" have more meaning for us as
equivalents of akolasia, enkrateia, and sophrosyne. While this
kind of modernization may blur Aristotle's influence, through
Latin translations, on the development of a philosophical vo-
cabulary in the Middle Ages, and thus on our own time, the
gain of bringing him closer to modern modes of expression
seems to offset this loss. In addition, a Glossary of Greek terms
is provided to serve as a bridge, as it were, between conven-

tional translations of important terms and our own.

The footnotes are intended (a) to explain references which
are likely to puzzle the modern reader; (fr) to elucidate passages
which can be understood only in the light of other Aristotelian
works or which reveal, in some important way, the influence of
earlier thinkers, especially Plato, upon Aristotle; and (c) to
explain, in conjunction with the Glossary, the precise mean-
ings of concepts for which no single satisfactory equivalent
could be found in English.
The most pleasant task remains, that of expressing my
VI NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

Glenn R. Morrow of the University

cordial thanks to Professors
of Pennsylvania and Charles H. Kahn of Columbia University
for having read the entire manuscript most meticulously, and
for having offered numerous suggestions for improving the
Introduction, the translation, and the notes; to Mr. Oskar
Piest, founder of the Liberal Arts Press, for his constant en-
couragement; to Professor Heinrich Brinkmann of Swarthmore
College for help with mathematical terminology; to the Faculty
Research Committee of Swarthmore College for grants to de-
fray the cost of secretarial work; and to the University of Chi-
cago Press for permission to quote from Richmond Lattimore's
translation of Homer's Iliad, and the University of Michigan
Press for permission to quote from Richmond Lattimore's
translation of Hesiod.

M. O.
Swarthmore College
November 1962
 CONTENTS

Introduction xi

Bibliography xxv

Note on the Text xxvii

NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
Book One 3
1. The good as the aim of action (3) — 2. Politics as
the master science of the good (4) —3. The limita-
tions of ethics and politics (5) —
Happiness is the
4.

good, but many views are held about it (6) 5. Vari- —

—
ous views on the highest good (8) 6. Plato's view of
the Good (9) — 7. The good is final and self-sufficient;

—
happiness is defined (14) 8. Popular views about
—
happiness confirm our position (19) 9. How happi-
ness is acquired (22) —
10. Can a man be called
"happy" during his lifetime? (23)— 11. Do the for-
tunes of the living affect the dead? (26)— 12. The
praise accorded to happiness (27) — 13. The psycho-
logical foundations of the virtues (29)

Book Two 33
1. Moral virtue as the result of habits (33) — 2.
Method in the practical sciences (35) Pleasure— 3.

—
and pain as the test of virtue (36) 4. Virtuous ac-
tion and virtue (38) —
5. Virtue defined: the genus
(40)—6. Virtue defined: the differentia (41)—7. Ex-
amples of the mean in particular virtues (44) 8. —
The relation between the mean and its extremes
(48)—9. How to attain the mean (49)
Book Three 52
I. Actions voluntary and involuntary (52) — 2. Choice
(58)— 3. Deliberation (60)—4. Wish (63)— 5. Man
as responsible agent (64) —
6. Courage and its sphere

of operation (68) —
7. Courage: its nature and its
opposites (70) — 8. Qualities similar to courage (72)
— 9. Courage: its relation to pleasure and pain (76)
— 10. Self-control and itssphere of operation (77) —
II. Self-control: its nature and its opposites (79) —
12. Self-indulgence (81)

Book Four 83
1. Generosity, extravagance, and stinginess (83) —
2. Magnificence, vulgarity, and niggardliness (89) —
3. High-mindcdness, pettiness, and vanity (93) 4. —
Ambition and lack of ambition as the extremes of a
—
nameless virtue (99) 5. Gentleness, short temper,
—
and apathy (100) 6. Friendliness, obsequiousness,
—
and grouchiness (102) 7. Truthfulness, boastful-
ness, and self-depreciation
(104) — 8. Wittiness,
buffoonery, and boorishness (107) — 9. Shame and
shamelessness (109)

Book Five 111

1. The different kinds of justice; complete justice
(111) — 2. Partial justice: just action as distribution
and as rectification (115) —
3. Just action as fairness

in distribution (118) —
Just action as rectification
4.

(120) —
5. Just action as reciprocity in the economic

life of the state (123)— 6. What is just in the political

sense (129) —
7. Just by nature and just by conven-

tion (131) —
8. The various degrees of responsibility

for just and unjust action (133) —

9. Voluntariness

and involuntariness in just and unjust action and

suffering (136) — 10. Equity and the equitable (141)
— 11. Is it possible to be unjust toward oneself?

Book Six 146

1. Moral and intellectual excellence; the psychologi-
cal foundations of intellectual excellence (146) — 2.

The two kinds of intellectual excellence and their

objects (147) —
3. The qualities by which truth is at-
 tained: (a) pure science or knowledge (150) 4. (b) —
Art or applied science (151) —
5. Practical wisdom

—
(152)— 6. (d) Intelligence (15-1) 7. (.') Theoretical
wisdom — Practical wisdom and
(155) 8. politics
(158) — Practical wisdom and excellence
9. delib- in
eration (161) — Practical wisdom and under-
10.
standing (164) — Practical wisdom and good
11.
sense (165) — The use
12. theoretical and practical
of
wisdom (167) — Practical wisdom and moral
13. vir-
tue (170)

Book Seven 174

1. Moral strength and moral weakness: their rela-
and vice and current beliefs about them
tion to virtue
(174) —
2. Problems in the current beliefs about
moral strength and moral weakness (176)t— 3. Some
problems solved: moral weakness and knowledge
(180) — 4. More problems solved: the sphere in
which moral weakness operates (185) 5. Moral —
weakness and brutishness (189) 6. Moral weakness —
in anger (191) —
7. Moral strength and moral weak-

ness: tenacity and softness (194) 8. Moral weak- —

ness and self-indulgence (197) —
9. Steadfastness in

moral strength and moral weakness (199) 10. —

Moral weakness and practical wisdom (201) 11. —
Pleasure: some current views (203) — 12. The views
discussed: Is pleasure a good thing? (205) — 13. The
views discussed: Is pleasure the highest good? (208)
— 14. The views discussed: Are most pleasures bad?
(210)

Book Eight 214

1. Why we need friendship (214) — 2. The three
things worthy of affection (217) — 3. The three kinds
of friendship (218) —
Perfect friendship and im-
4.

perfect friendship (221) —

5. Friendship as a charac-

teristic and as an activity (223) —

6. Additional ob-

servations on the three kinds of friendship (224) —

7. Friendship between unequals (227) 8. Giving —
and receiving affection (228) 9. Friendship and —
justice in the state (231) — 10. The different political
systems (233) —
Friendship and justice in the dif-
11.
ferent political systems (235) —
12. Friendship within
 the family (237) — 13. What equal friends owe to
one another (240) — 14. What unequal friends owe to
one another (243)

Book Nine 245

1. How to measure what friends owe to one another
(245)— 2. Conflicting obligations (248)— 3. When
friendships are dissolved (250) —
4. Self-love as the

basis of friendship (252) —

Friendship and good
5.

will (255) —6. Friendship and concord (256) 7. —

Good deeds and affection (258)—S. Self-love (260)
— 9.Friendship and happiness (263) — 10. How
many friends should we have? (267) — 11. Friend-
ship in good and in bad fortune (269) — 12. Friends
must live together (271)

Book Ten 273

1. The two views about pleasure (273) —
2. Eudoxus'

view: pleasure is the good (274) —

3. The view that
pleasure is evil (276) —
4. The true character of pleas-

ure (279) — 5. The

value of pleasure (282) 6. Hap- —
piness and activity (286) —
7. Happiness, intelli-

gence, and the contemplative life (288) 8. The —

advantages of the contemplative life (291) 9. —
Ethics and politics (295)

Glossary 303
 INTRODUCTION

1. The Life of Aristotle 1

In 384 B.C. was born in Stagirus (later called

Aristotle
town situated in the north-east corner of the
Stagira), a little
Chalcidice peninsula. His father, Nicomachus, a physician who
spent some time at the Macedonian court at Pella, died early,
and Aristotle was brought up by relatives at Atarneus in Asia
Minor. At the age of seventeen, in 367/66 b.c., he went to
Athens to study at Plato's Academy. In Plato's absence in
Sicily at that time, the distinguished mathematician and as-
tronomer Eudoxus of Cnidus was presiding over the Academy,
and his thought has left some traces in the Nicomachean
Ethics. 2
After Plato's death in 348/47 b.c, Aristotle left Athens, and
together with Xenocrates, who had been a colleague of his at
the Academy, accepted an invitation from the ruler Hermias
of Atarneus to settle there. Two other former members of the
Academy, Erastus and Coriscus, joined Aristotle and Xenoc-
rates at Atarneus, and after an initial stay with Hermias, were
given land to start a new school at Assos. For reasons unknown
to us, Aristotle left Assos in 345/44 b.c. to found a new school
at Mytilene on the island of Lesbos.
But his stay at Mytilene turned out to be of short duration:
after two years, in 343/42 b.c, he was invited by Philip of
Macedon to come to Pella to be the tutor of Alexander, then
thirteen years of age. Three years later, the active part which
Alexander was called upon to take in Macedonian affairs put

i For a recent edition and discussion of the ancient and medieval evi-

dence of Aristotle's biography, see Ingemar During, Aristotle in the an-

cient biographical tradition (Goteborg, 1957), especially Part IV, "From
Hermippus to Ptolemy: A brief summary of results and conclusions," pp.
459-76.
2 For Eudoxus' influence, see I. 12, 1101b27-31, and X. 2.

xi
 Xll NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
an end changed his residence
to Aristotle's tutorship. Aristotle
to his native Stagirus, which had been destroyed eight years
before but rebuilt in Aristotle's honor by Philip and Alexan-
der, and in 335/34 b.c. he moved back to Athens. There he
spent the next twelve years teaching and writing at the
Lyceum. His activities came to an abrupt end after the death
of Alexander in June 323 b.c. When the news of Alexander's
death reached Athens a month later, an open revolt broke out.
Aristotle, because of his connections with the monarch, became
a persona non grata, and a certain Eurymedon brought an
indictment for impiety against him— the same charge on which
Socrates had been condemned to death— for having conferred
divine honors on a mortal in a hymn he had written in mem-
ory of his friend Hermias of Atarneus. But before the matter
came to trial, Aristotle decided to leave Athens in order, as
one tradition has it, not to give the Athenians an opportunity
to commit a second sin against philosophy. Together with his
family he fled to Chalcis, the birthplace of his mother, where
he soon died in November 322 b.c. at the age of sixty-two.
Aristotle's earliest works, especially his dialogues, are now
lostand only a few fragments survive. What we do have of his
writings are summaries of the lectures he delivered at various
times on subjects ranging from rhetoric to metaphysics, biol-
ogy to politics, poetry to psychology, and so forth. These sum-
maries of lecture courses were in almost every case revised—
probably even revised several times— partly by Aristotle him-
self and partly by his successors in the Peripatos 3 or by later
editors, and were deposited in Aristotle's library to be con-
sulted by teachers and students. This means in effect that
many works were originally not written in the form in which
they have come down to us: works such as the Metaphysics,
Physics, Politics, and Nicomachean Ethics (so called because
Aristotle's son Nicomachus is said to have edited the work after

3 Peripatos is the name usually given to the school founded by the suc-
cessors of Aristotle in Athens. The word, derived from the Greek verb
peripated (I walk about), rose from the teachers' practice of delivering
lectures while walking.
 TRANSLATOR S INTRODUCTION Xlll

his father's death) now contain in a more or less homogeneous

juxtaposition part of the original courses of lectures plus their
later revisions and additions. As a result, one of the tasks of
modern philological scholarship has been to try to separate
early from later layers both within individual works of Aris-
totle, and in the relation of the different works to one another. 4

2. The Place of Ethics in Aristotle's Philosophy

Despite theand modifications which Aristotle's

changes
philosophical views underwent in the course of his life, there
is, in the extant works at least, a consistent picture of the place

occupied by the different intellectual disciplines in relation to

scientific knowledge (episteme) as such. It is here that we find
the most striking difference between Aristotle and his master
Plato. For while Plato's work is characterized by a passionate
conviction of the unity and interdependence of all branches
of human knowledge, Aristotle with his sharp analytical mind
ismore concerned with finding what differentiates one branch
of learning from the other and what is peculiar to each. In
order to understand his analysis we have to begin by stating a
few fundamental points.
For Aristotle, as for Plato, man possesses logos, the power of
c peech and reasoning. This does not mean that everything man
does is rational; it simply means that man alone of all animals
possesses reason,which gives him the capacity of organizing
by means of thought in a way no other
his various activities
animal can. Moreover, since this power differentiates him from
the other animals, it constitutes the essential element in his
definition, and only insofar as man acts rationally can he be
said to act as a human being at all. In other words, Aristotle—
and Plato before him— believed that acting like a human being

4 The pioneering study in the establishment of an Aristotelian chronol-

ogy Werner Jaeger's Aristoteles (Berlin, 1923; English tr. by R. Robin-
is

son in 1934, 2nd edn. 1948). A comprehensive account of the present state
of scholarship in this respect is in R. A. Gauthier and Y. Jolif,
J.
L'£t!iique a Nicomaque, I (Louvain, 1958), 26*-36*.
XIV NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
is tantamount to acting like a rational human being, and act-

ing like a rational human being is the same thing as acting like
a good human being.
Aristotle recognizes three major areas of human activity,
that is, three areas in which man's rational faculty is displayed,
and he accordingly divides all scientific knowledge (episteme)
or thought (dianoia)— the terms are used interchangeably in
this context— into three groups: 5
theoretical (theoretike),
productive (poietike), and practical (praktike) science, and to-

gether these three cover all possible activities of man as a

rational animal.
The highest form of knowledge is theoretical science, since
it involves the use of reason at its purest. It has no ulterior
motive, but simply wants to study truth for its own sake and to
understand the workings of reality and the universe without
desiring to effect any change in the objects which it studies.
What are the objects of theoretical science? Aristotle recognizes
three different kinds and, therefore, subdivides theoretical
science into three branches or philosophiai. The first and most
sovereign of these is what has, since Aristotle's time, come to
be called "metaphysics," because the earliest ancient editor of
Aristotle's works, Andronicus of Rhodes, who lived in the
first century B.C., placed Aristotle's treatises on this subject
"after" (meta) the treatises on natural science (ta physika).
Aristotle himself uses at various times three different names for
metaphysics: sometimes he refers to it as "first philosophy"
(prate philosophia), sometimes as iheologia, and occasionally
he speaks of it simply as sophia or "intellectual wisdom." The
province of this science is reality as such, i.e., it investigates the
fundamental principles of all being qua being. In one sense,
therefore, it is concerned with such eternal and changeless
entities as the First Unmoved Mover, which exist separate
from matter and are all form; and inasmuch as metaphysics
takes this as its object, it can equally well be called "theology."
But metaphysics may also deal with the degree of "reality" or
"being" inherent in the matter-form combinations which we
r
• » Sec Metaphysics E. 1 and K. 7.
 TRANSLATOR S INTRODUCTION XV

encounter in the sublunary sphere in which we live. This

means that it axioms of science inasmuch as these
studies the
are essential attributes of all "being," and from this point of

view metaphysics is the "first," i.e., the most basic, philosophy.

The second theoretical science, physics (physike) is also con-
cerned with reality but not with reality in itself, as metaphysics
is. Its province is the study of reality insofar as it is subject to
motion, examines the principles of motion and rest,
i.e., it

growth and decay as they are found in the matter-form com-

binations of the animal and vegetable world around us. The
Physics is of course Aristotle's most fundamental work con-
cerned with this science; but in addition, such biological and
physiological treatises as De Caelo, Meter eologica, De Partibus
Animalium, Historia Animalium, De Anima, and several more
belong to it.
Mathematics, the third theoretical science, differs from
physics in that its objects— number, magnitude, figure, etc.—
are abstracted from matter and not considered as embodied in
the matter-form combinations with which physics deals. The
difference between mathematics and metaphysics is harder to
view of the metaphysical importance attached
see, especially in

to mathematics by the Pythagoreans and by Plato. The ab-

stract—and therefore eternal— nature of mathematics, which
made it so attractive to Plato, meant to Aristotle only that it

possesses less reality than the other theoretical sciences: lines,

numbers, angles, and so forth have for him no existence sep-
aratefrom the particular objects of sense perception in which
they are found. Therefore, mathematics, in Aristotle's view,
does not deal with things as "realities" but as continuous
entities that have dimension; it deals with a particular aspect
of being and not with being as such, and thus loses to meta-
physics the general significance which Aristotle's predecessors
had attributed to it.
6

In the productive and the practical sciences, reason

put to is

the service of man's most immediate needs. The objects with

which both these branches of knowledge or thought are con-
eibid., K. 4, 1061bl7-27.
XVI NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

cerned are not the "divine," eternal, and separate entities of

theoretical science, but entities which depend on the human
being who produces or acts respectively. Man himself is the
initiating principle (arche) and the results of action and pro-
duction depend on the active exercise (energeia) of faculties
(dynameis) inherent in him. What we find in these two
branches of knowledge, therefore, is reason dealing with what
is changeable and with what "can be other than it is," for the
objects of both production and action become what the indi-
vidual producing or acting wants thern to become. This, in turn,
makes the productive and the practical sciences something
peculiar to man. For while Aristotle attributes study and con-
templation (theoria) also to the gods, he denies them produc-
tion and moral action. The First Unmoved Mover of Meta-
physics A and Physics VIII, for example, being eternal and
unchangeable, is an immaterial being who imparts motion to
the outer sphere of the Universe: he is not a creator in the
sense in which that term is used of the God of Genesis. More-
over, we learn from the Nicomachean Ethics 7 that the gods
have no need of action (praxis), since they already possess that
happiness which is the end of all action. Accordingly, being
confined to man, the productive and the practical sciences
differ from the theoretical in that they have an ulterior motive
and in that their objects are not eternal and changeless.
This is especially evident in the productive sciences. Here
the end to which reason is employed is the production of a
given product, which is, in its turn, intended to serve some hu-
man need. The producer's task ends as soon as the product is

made; he is not concerned with the use to which it is put after-

ward. The rational faculty (dynamis) which produces the prod-
uct is the art or skill (techne) of the producer, and its posses-
sion enables him to ensure good and
that the product will be
usable. It is a "know-how"
rather than "knowledge" in some
intellectual sense. These characteristics set oft productive from
both theoretical and practical science. A sculptor, for example,
insofar as he is seriously engaged in his proper activity, will

7X. 8, 1178b8-18.
 TRANSLATOR S INTRODUCTION XV11

not study rocks in the way a theoretical scientist, e.g., a miner-

alogist or geologist, studies them. He will deal with them only
as theraw material of the particular work he wishes to execute,
and he chooses a particular stone in order to obtain the right
texture for the statue he wants to produce; he does not choose
it because he is interested in the stone as such. If this distin-
guishes the productive from the theoretical scientist, a further
consideration shows how he differs from the practical scientist.

The sculptor's end is attained as soon as the statue, the end

product, is completed. Productive science does not tell him
what to do with the product once it is finished. To determine
that is the end of practical science.
For it is practical science that deals with the use of reason
for the organization of life itself, or better, for living a good
life. This means that the practical sciences, ethics and politics,
resemble the productive in that the initiating motive (arche)
is in man himself and not external to him, as it is in the theo-
retical sciences. But in the practical sciences man is a moral agent
rather than a producer. His end is not the creation of a product

which independent of him once it is completed, but

will exist
rather the living of a certain kind of life. In other words, in
the practical sciences the end is neither the study (theoria) or
knowledge (gnosis) of something external to man as it is in the
theoretical sciences, nor is it the creation of a product that will
exist apart from him as soon as it is completed. It is the very
activity of living a good life that is in itself the end. Since
our main concern here is with ethics, which together with
politics constitutes the realm of practical science, we shall now
turn our attention to some salient points in Aristotle's ethical
doctrine.

3. Some Observations on Aristotle's Ethical System

Of the three treatises on ethics that have come down to us
under the name of Aristotle, the Nicomachean Ethics is the
only one whose genuineness has never been doubted. The
Magna Moralia, though doubtless a work of the Peripatetic
XV111 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

School, is no longer attributed to Aristotle, 8 and the Eudemian

Ethics was for a long time ascribed to Eudemus of Rhodes not
only as editor (which he probably was) but even as author.
However, since the appearance of Kapp's 9 and Jaeger's 10
works, there is no longer any doubt that Aristotle is the author
of both Eudemian and Nicomachean Ethics and that the for-
mer is based on a course of lectures given— probably at Assos—
some fifteen years earlier than the courses which underlie the
Nicomachean Ethics.
This is not the place to review in detail the arguments which
establish the authenticity and priority of the Eudemian Eth-
ics. 11 Suffice it to say that the Eudemian Ethics is much closer
to the Protrepticus, which is admittedly early, and to some of
the late works of Plato, such as the Philebus, than are the treat-
ments of the same problems in the Nicomachean Ethics. Of
especial interest in this connection is the double treatment of
pleasure in the Nicomachean Ethics, (a) in Book VII, chapters
11-14, and (b) in Book X, chapters 1-5. 12 It is now certain that
the first of these than the second; 13 moreover, since
is earlier
(a) leans heavily on the Philebus, while (b) is rather critical of
it, and Nicomachean Eth-
since (a) belongs to a section of the
ics, viz., Books V-VII, which is identical with Books IV-VI of

the Eudemian Ethics, we have here a good example of part of

an earlier work embodied— either by Aristotle himself or by
one of his editors— in a later one. So we find that to a certain
extent old and new exist side by side in the Nicomachean Eth-
ics. Yet it is also true that wherever there are differences in the
8 The problem is most recently discussed by G. Lieberg, Die Lehre von
der Lust in den Ethiken des Aristoteles, "Zetemata" XIX (Munich, 1958),
pp. 16-20.
9 Ernst Kapp, Das Verhaltnis der eudemischen zur nikomachischen
Ethik (diss., Freiburg, 1912).
io See above, p. xiii and note 4.
ii See R. Robinson's translation of Jaeger's work, pp. 228-58, together
with the good, though often extreme, criticism of Gauthier and Jolif,
I, 26*-30*.

12 See below, p. 203, note 59.

13 See A. Le and Lieberg.
J. Festugicre, Aristote: Plaisir (Paris, 1936),
 TRANSLATOR S INTRODUCTION XIX

treatment of a given problem between the two works, the

Nicomachean Ethics represents a more mature view than the
Eudemian. In other words, in basing our discussion on the
Nicomachean Ethics alone, we shall in fact discuss the main
points of Aristotle's ethical system as a whole.
We pointed out in the preceding section that ethics is a prac-
tical science which inmethod differs from
aim as well as in

the theoret'cal sciences. For while the aim of the theoretical

sciences is study and contemplation, the aim of ethics is to act
in a certain way: it is not scientific knowledge but action. How,
then, is it possible to discuss ethics in a philosophical way at
all? How can one theorize about something which, according
to Aristotle, is from theory?
so radically different
That Aristotle was aware of this problem is indicated in a
number of ways in the Nicomachean Ethics. He points out re-
peatedly that in ethics theory must always be subordinate to
practice, 14 he stresses that moral behavior is acquired by ha-
bituation, 15 and that therefore only those can be admitted
as students of ethics whose character is already formed suffi-
ciently by habit to accept without argument the fact that
moral behavior is good. 16 For rules of moral conduct can-
not be defined as rigorously as the objects of the theoretical
sciences. The and eternal realities,
latter are the changeless

given as such by nature; their "principle of motion and of

rest" (arche) is, as we have seen, in the objects and not in man.
In the practical sciences, on the other hand, where man as
agent initiates action, the rules are less precise, since they de-
pend on human will and human choice. Here is what Aristotle
has to say about them:

Problems of what is noble and just, which politics examines,

present so much variety and irregularity that some people
believe that they exist only by convention and not by nature.

MI. 3, 1095a5-6; II. 2, 1103b26-31; cf. also I. 6, 1096b32-35, and

Eudemian Ethics I. 5, 1216a37-b25.
13 II. 1, 1103al7-25.
10 1. 3 1095a2-ll; 4, 1095b4-8.
XX NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

The problem of the good, too, presents a similar kind of ir-

regularity, because in many cases good things bring harmful
results. There are instances of men ruined by wealth and
others by courage. Therefore, in a discussion of such sub-
jects, which has to start from a basis of this kind, we must
be satisfied to indicate the truth with a rough and general
sketch: when the subject and the basis of a discussion con-
sist of matters that hold good only as a general rule, but
not always, the conclusions reached must be of the same
order. The various points that are made must be received
in the same spirit. For a well-schooled man is one who
searches for that degree of precision in each kind of study
which the nature of the subject at hand admits: it is obvi-
ously just as foolish to accept arguments of probability from
a mathematician as to demand strict demonstrations from
an orator. 17

The problem is thus to find principles as lucid and rigorous

as possible on which a discussion of moral problems can be
based. In other words, we must find for the practical sciences
a basis as firm— comparatively speaking— as are the phenomena
and realities studied in the theoretical sciences. In order to
arrive at a basis for his discussion, Aristotle usually examines
the beliefs current (endoxa) about a given problem. Such "cur-
rent beliefs," he states in the Topics, 1 * are "the views of all
men, or of most men, or of the wise; in the latter case the view
may be held by all wise men or by most of them, or by the
most renowned and respected." Once these views have been
collected and juxtaposed, it will become clear that many con-
tradict each other, and the next step will be to balance differ-
ent judgments against one another. It must be noted here
that Aristotle's attitude toward traditional views, both popular
and philosophical, is one of great respect: "Some of these
views are expressed by many people and have come down from
antiquity, some by a few men of high prestige, and it is not
reasonable to assume that both groups are altogether wrong;
the presumption is rather that they are right in at least one or
even in most respects." 19 By juxtaposing them and by reveal-
17 1. 3, 1094bl4-27; cf. also 7, 1098a26-32, and II. 2, 1103b34-1104al0.
is Topics I. I, 100b21-23.
iflNic. FAh. I. 8, 1098b27-29.
 TRANSLATOR S INTRODUCTION XXI

ing their contradictions, Aristotle focusses attention on the

intricacies of the problem he is about to discuss; and by pro-
ceeding as he does to criticize each opinion, he sharpens what
true perception is inherent in each and appropriates its truth,
until he reaches the point when a new truth will emerge which
contains all the valid elements of the opinions discussed. The
best example of this procedure in the Nicomachean Ethics is
afforded by the beginning of Book VII. The theme of this
book is moral weakness. Aristotle does not attempt to define it
until chapter 8; but he devotes the second half of chapter 1

(1145b2-20) an explicit statement of his method and

first to
next to the enumeration of some six beliefs about moral weak-
ness which, he thinks, deserve consideration; after that, the
views enumerated in the first chapter are discussed in the sec-
ond.
But the discussion of current beliefs, both popular and
philosophical, is only a starting point (arche) in the sense of
being a first step in the analysis of particular goods; for the
decisive starting points or first principles of a system of ethics
are archai in a different and more profound sense. They are
certain propositions about the purpose of man, his place in
society, and what is good for him.
Aristotle's ethical theory is teleological in this sense, and the
larger part of the very first book of the Nicomachean Ethics
(chapters 4-12) is devoted to establishing the proposition that
happiness good at which all human action (praxis) aims,
is the
and toward the end of the work (X. 6-7), the supremacy of hap-
piness is asserted once again. It is important to note that hap-
piness is for Aristotle not a fleeting, momentary phenomenon
which we may enjoy one day and lose the next, but a general
condition which encompasses the whole of a man's life, inas-
much as that life displays "activities in conformity with vir-
tue." 20 Thus happiness is for Aristotle synonymous with "liv-
ing well" (eu zen, kalos zen) or "acting well" (eu prattein,
eupraxia), and "acting well" is in the Greek of any period the
same as "faring well."

20 ibid. I. 10, HOOblO.

XX11 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

Although comments on the key concepts of Aristotle's ethical

system will be found in the Glossary, we shall here single out
a few of the most crucial and untranslatable for special con-
sideration. The first of these is arete, the word usually trans-
lated by "virtue," which, as we just saw, is an important
element in the definition of happiness as "activities in con-
formity with virtue." The somewhat strait-laced and prudish
connotations which "virtue" so often has in English are totally
absent from the Greek. The word denotes a junctional ex-
cellence or virtue not only in Aristotle's usage but throughout
ancient Greek literature, and implies in Plato and Aristotle
it

that there is a set of qualities which will make man fulfill his
function as a man properly and well in much the same way
as a different set of qualities makes a good horse fulfill its own
proper functions. There is thus nothing mysterious or divine
about the concept of arete: when "virtue" is predicated of a
person, it simply means that he is fulfilling his proper task
well, and if happiness is accepted as the proper goal of human
life, it is clear that without "virtue" this or any other proper
goal cannot be attained. 21
Aristotle shares this basic view of arete with his predecessors.
But he goes beyond them in explicitly stating what it involves.
A virtuous action is not merely any action which, somehow or
other, will lead to happiness. We
do not display virtue when
we do something that happens to be good, but we must act
with a deliberate desire to perform our function as human
beings properly, that is, to perform it voluntarily and in full
awareness of the fact that there are possible alternatives, which,
however, we reject in deciding to act the way we will. The
Greek word Aristotle uses for this process is proairesis, which
literally means "forechoice," "a choosing (one thing) before,
i.e., rather than (another)," and without it no action can have

moral value. Aristotle's final definition of the concept at the

end of his discussion in III. 2-3 is "a deliberate desire for
things that are within our power: we arrive at a decision on
the basis of deliberation, and then let the deliberation guide
21 See also Glossary.
 translator's introduction xxiii

our desire." 22 It is, in other words, a thoughtful organization

of our desires— not of all desires, but only of those which we
are capable of fulfilling through our own efforts— without
which no action can be termed "virtuous." 23
But in order to have virtue it is not sufficient to exercise this
proairesis or "choice" of acting well only on a number of
isolated occasions. Virtue is, for Aristotle, a hexis (literally,
"a having," "a holding," "a being in a certain condition"),
something so deeply ingrained in a person by constant habit
that he will almost automatically make the morally right
choices on every occasion, rejecting at the same time and
equally automatically all the alternatives as wrong. Virtue will
thus be a firmly established characteristic of the person, and
the aggregate of all his characteristics will constitute his char-
acter. 24
If the fact that it is a hexis or "characteristic" explains the
nature of virtue in relation to the agent, Aristotle's doctrine of
the mean explains it in relation to the objects with which eth-
ics is concerned. This doctrine is Aristotle's most original con-
tribution to moral theory. It is stated at length in Book II,

chapters 5-9, and the long passage from III. 6 to the end of
Book V is devoted to applying it to the analysis of particular
virtues and vices. The basis of the doctrine of the mean is the
observation that the virtues are concerned with actions and
emotions. When we are faced with a given situation which
demands action, we may react too strongly, not strongly
enough, or to a proper degree, and as a result we may want
to do too much, too little, or the right amount to cope with
it. In order to act virtuously, our actions and reactions must
of course have the proper degree. But Aristotle goes further
than that and characterizes as vice any act which exceeds or
falls short of the proper degree. If, then, the intensity of re-
action (Aristotle uses the word pathos, "emotion") to a situa-
tion be represented by a straight line, one end would represent

22 in. 3, 1113al0-12.
23 See also Glossary, proairesis.
24 See also Glossary, hexis, and II. 5.
XXIV NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

deficiency and the other excess. Both of these constitute vice.

But at what point between the two do we find virtue? Aristotle
takes great pains to point out that the mean which is virtue
is not arithmetical: "if ten pounds of food is much for a man
to eat and two pounds little, it does not follow that the trainer
will prescribe six pounds, for this may in turn be much or
little for him to eat." 25 On the contrary, the mean must be
determined in relation to the agent. If his natural bent is to
follow one of the extremes— say, deficiency— the mean will for
him lie closer to the excess than it will for a person who natur-
ally tends toward the excess. Accordingly, the mean, and with
it virtue, is not one fixed point, the same for all; it is a median
which is fixed absolutely only in that it lies between the ex-
tremes of excess and deficiency, but within which proper al-

lowance is made between individuals.

for differences
It may seem peculiar to us that Aristotle opens and ends the
Nicomachean Ethics by emphasizing that ethics is part of the
larger science of politics, and a few words of explanation may
be in order. It is of course true that for Aristotle man is a
zoon politikon, a social and political being, 26 who realizes his
nature fully only in the city-state. But it is also true that moral
action is impossible outside human society, for actions are vir-
tuous or not when they are performed in relation to one's
fellow men; a hermit is incapable of acting virtuously. For the
Greeks society and the were identical. There was no so-
state
ciety apart from the
and, interestingly enough, the
city-state
Greek language does not even have a word other than polis
to express what we mean by "society." And just as we regard
the creation of the right kind of "social climate" as one of the
preconditions of a healthy moral development, so Aristotle
realized that ethics is inseparable from the master science of
politics.

MARTIN OSTWALD
25Mc. Eth. II. 6, 1106a36-b3.
20 1. 7, 1097bll, and Politics I. 2, 1253a3.
 BIBLIOGRAPHY
WORKS CITED IN THE NOTES

Apelt, O. Aristotelis Ethica Nicomachea. 3rd edn. Leipzig,

1912.
Burnet, J. The Ethics of Aristotle. London, 1900.
Bywater, Contributions to the Textual Criticism of Aris-
I.

totle's Nicomachean Ethics. Oxford, 1892.

Diehl, E. Anthologia Lyrica Graeca. 3rd edn. Leipzig, 1949-1952.
(Diehl 3 )
Diels, H. Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker. 3 vols. 6th edn. by
W. Kranz. Berlin, 1951-1952. (DK 6 )
Dirlmeier, F. (tr.). Aristoteles: Nikomachische Ethik. Darmstadt,
1956.
During, Ingemar. Aristotle in the Ancient Biographical Tradi-
tion. ("Studia Graeca et Latina Gothoburgensia" V.) Gote-
borg, 1957.
Ehrenberg, Victor. The Greek State. Oxford, 1960.
Festugiere, A. J. Aristote: Le Plaisir. Paris, 1936.
Gauthier, R. A. and J. Y. Jolif. L'£thique a Nicomaque. 3 vols.
Louvain, 1958-1959.
Glotz, G. La solidarite de la famille dans le droit criminel en
Grece. Paris, 1904.
Grant, Sir Alexander. The Ethics of Aristotle. 2 vols. 4th edn.
London, 1885.
Grube, G. M. A. (tr.). Aristotle: On Poetry and Style. ("Library
of Liberal Arts," No. 68.) New York, 1958.
Heath, T. L. A History of Greek Mathematics. 2 vols. Oxford,
1921.
Jaeger, Werner. Aristoteles. Berlin, 1923.
Aristotle. Tr. R. Robinson. 2nd edn. Oxford, 1948.
.

Joachim, H. H. Aristotle: The Nicomachean Ethics. Oxford,

1951.
Kaibel, G. (ed.). Comicorum Graecorum Fragmenta. Berlin,
1899. (Kaibel)

xxv
XXVI NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

Kapp, Ernst. Das Verhdltnis der eudemischen zur nikomachi-

schen Ethik. Diss., Freiburg, 1912.
Kock, T. (ed.). Comicorum Atticorum Fragmenta. 3 vols. Leip-
zig, 1880-1888. (Kock)
Lattimore, Richmond (tr.). The Iliad of Homer. Chicago, 1951.
Hesiod: The Works and Days; Theogony;
(tr.). The
Shield of Herakles. Ann Arbor, 1959.
Leonard, J. Le bonheur chez Aristote. Brussels, 1948.
Lieberg, G. Die Lehre von der Lust in den Ethiken des Aris-
toteles. ("Zetemata" XIX.) Munich, 1958.
Lobel, E. and D. Page (eds.). Poetarum Lesbiorum Fragmenta.
Oxford, 1955. (L-P)
Nauck, A. Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta. 2nd edn. Leip-
zig, 1926. (Nauck 2
)

Nuyens, F. L' evolution de la psychologie d' Aristote. Louvain,

1948.
Rackham, H. (tr.) Aristotle: The Nicomachean
. Ethics. Lon-
don, and Cambridge, Mass., 1947.
Ramsauer, G. Aristotelis Ethica Nicomachea. Leipzig, 1878.
Rassow, H. Forschungen iiber die Nikomachische Ethik des
Aristoteles. Weimar, 1874.
Ross, W. D. (tr.). Ethica Nicomachea. ("The Works of Aris-
totle," ed. W. D. Ross, Vol. IX.) Oxford, 1925.
Stewart, J. A. Notes on the Nicomachean Ethics. 2 vols. Ox-
ford, 1892.
Susemihl, F. Aristotelis Ethica Nicomachea. Leipzig, 1880.
 NOTE ON THE TEXT

This translation is based on the text of I. Bywater in the

"Oxford Classical Texts," and any divergence from it is indi-
cated in a footnote. Wherever available, the "Oxford Classical
Texts" have also been used for references to other authors. For
the Presocratic philosophers, H. Diels, Die Fragmente der
Vorsokratiker (3 vols.; 6th edn. by W. Kranz, Berlin, 1951-52)
has been used, and for the Greek lyric poets, E. Diehl's
Anthologia Lyrica Graeca (3rd edn., Leipzig, 1949-52). Ab-
breviations for these and for other works are indicated in the
Bibliography.
References to Aristotle's works are conventionally based on
the first modern edition by I. Bekker, commissioned by the
Prussian Academy (Berlin, 1831). Each page in Bekker 's text
is printed in two parallel columns, the left of which is called
"a" and the right "b." We have followed the usual practice of
indicating Bekker's page, column, and line numbers in the
margin.
Caret brackets are used to indicate any additions made by
myself for the sake of obtaining clarity of thought or style. I
have also supplied the chapter headings, all footnotes, and
have translated all quotations, unidentified as to translator,
from classical sources.

M. O.

xxvn
NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
 BOOK I

1. The good as the aim of action

Every art or applied science and every systematic investiga-

l 1094a
tion, and similarly every action and choice, 2 seem to aim at some
good; the good, therefore, has been well defined as that at
which all But it is clear that there is a difference
things aim. 3
in the ends at which they aim: in some cases the activity 4 is
the end, in others the end is some product 5 beyond the activ-
ity. In cases where the end lies beyond the action the product 5
is naturally superior to the activity.
Since there are many activities, arts, and sciences, 6 the num-
ber of ends is correspondingly large: of medicine the end is

health, of shipbuilding a vessel, of strategy, victory, and of

household management, wealth. In many instances several such
pursuits are grouped together under a single capacity: 7 the 10
art of bridle-making, for example, and everything else pertain-
ing to the equipment of a horse are grouped together under
horsemanship; horsemanship in turn, along with every other
military action, is grouped together under strategy; and other
pursuits are grouped together under other capacities. In all
these cases the ends of the master sciences are preferable to 15
the ends of the subordinate sciences, since the latter are
1 See Glossary, techne, and VI. 4.
2 See Glossary, proairesis; Introduction, pp. xxii-xxiii; and III. 2.
3 Wedo not know who first gave this definition of the good. It is

certainly implied in the Platonic dialogues, especially in Republic VI;

but the most likely candidate for the formulation here is Eudoxus, for
whom see below, X. 2, 1172b9-15. But it is clear from this passage, from
X. 2, 1172b35-36, and from Rhetoric I. 6, 1362a23 that Aristotle himself
subscribed to this definition.
4 See Glossary, energeia.
5 See Glossary, ergon.
« See Glossary, epistSme, and VI. 3 and 6.
7 See Glossary, dynamis.
 4 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

pursued for the sake of the former. This is true whether the
ends of the actions lie in the activities themselves or, as is the
case in the disciplines just mentioned, in something beyond
the activities.

2. Politics as the master science of the good

Now, if end in the realm of action which we

there exists an
desire for its own
an end which determines all our
sake,
other desires; if, in other words, we do not make all our
20 choices for the sake of something else— for in this way the
process will go on infinitely so that our desire would be futile
and pointless— then obviously this end will be the good, that
is, the highest good. Will not the knowledge of this good,

consequently, be very important to our lives? Would it not

better equip us, like archers who have a target to aim at,
to hit the proper mark? If so, we must try to comprehend in
25 outline at least what this good is and to which branch of
knowledge or to which capacity it belongs.
This good, one should think, belongs to the most sovereign
and most comprehensive master science, and politics 8 clearly
fits this description. For it determines which sciences ought to

exist in states, what kind of sciences each group of citizens

1094b must learn, and what degree of proficiency each must attain.
We observe further that the most honored capacities, such as
strategy, household management, and oratory, are contained
in politics. Since this science uses the rest of the sciences,
5 and since, moreover, it legislates what people are to do and
what they are not to do, its end seems to embrace the ends
of the other sciences. Thus it follows that the end of politics
is the good for man. For even if the good is the same for the

individual and the state, the good of the state clearly is the

8 Politike is the science of the city-state, the polis, and its members, not
merely in our narrow 'political' sense of the word but also in the sense
that a civilized human existence is, according to Plato and Aristotle, only
possible in the polis. Thus politike involves not only the science of the
state, 'politics,' but of our concept of 'society* as well.
3] BOOK ONE 5

greater and more perfect thing to attain and to safeguard. The

attainment of the good for one man alone is, to be sure, a
source of satisfaction; yet to secure it for a nation and for 10

states is nobler and more divine. In short, these are the aims
of our investigation, which is in a sense an investigation of
social and political matters.

3. The limitations of ethics and politics

Our discussion will be adequate if it achieves clarity within

the limits of the subject matter. For precision cannot be ex^
pected in the treatment of all subjects alike, any more than

it can be expected in manufactured articles. Problems of

all

what is noble and just, which politics examines, present so 15

much variety and irregularity that some people believe that

they exist only by convention and not by nature. The problem
of the good, too, presents a similar kind of irregularity, be-
cause in many cases good things bring harmful results. There
are instances of men ruined by wealth, and others by courage.
Therefore, in a discussion of such subjects, which has to start
from a basis of this kind, we must be satisfied to indicate the
truth with a rough and general sketch: when the subject and 20
the basis of a discussion consist of matters that hold good
only as a general rule, but not always, the conclusions reached
must be of the same order. The various points that are made
must be received in the same spirit. For a well-schooled man
is one who searches for that degree of precision in each kind

of study which the nature of the subject at hand admits: it is 25

obviously just as foolish to accept arguments of probability
from a mathematician as to demand strict demonstrations
from an orator.
Each man can judge competently the things he knows, and
of these he is a good judge. Accordingly, a good judge in each
particular field is one who has been trained in it, and a good 1095a
judge in general, a man who has received an all-round school-
ing. For that reason, a young man is not equipped to be a
student of politics; for he has no experience in the actions
 6 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

which life demands of him, and these actions form the basis
and subject matter of the discussion. Moreover, since he fol-
5 lows his emotions, 9 his study will be pointless and unprofit-
able, for the end of this kind of study is not knowledge but
action. Whether he is young in years or immature in character
makes no difference; for his deficiency is not a matter of time
but of living and of pursuing all his interests under the in-
fluence of his emotions. Knowledge brings no benefit to this
kind of person, just as it brings none to the morally weak.
10 But those who regulate their desires and actions by a rational
principle 10 will greatly benefit from a knowledge of this sub-
ject. So much by way of a preface about the student, the

limitations which have to be accepted, and the objective be-

fore us.

4. Happiness is the good, but many views are held about it

Toresume the discussion: since all knowledge and every

15 choice is directed toward some good, let us discuss what is in

our view the aim of politics, i.e., the highest good attainable
by action. As far as its name is concerned, most people would
probably agree: for both the common run of people and
cultivated men call it happiness, and understand by "being
happy" the same as "living well" and "doing well." But when
20 it comes to defining what happiness is, they disagree, and the

account given by the common run differs from that of the

philosophers. The former say it is some clear and obvious
good, such as pleasure, wealth, or honor; some say it is one
thing and others another, and often the very same person
identifies it with different things at different times: when he

• See Glossary, pathos.

10 The fundamental meaning of logos is 'speech,' 'statement/ in the
sense of a coherent and rational arrangement of words; but it can apply
to a rational principle underlying many things, and may be translated
in different contexts by 'rational account,' 'explanation,' 'argument,'
'treatise,' or 'discussion.' In chaps. 7 and 13 below, logos is used in a
normative sense, describing the human which comprehends and
faculty
formulates rational principles and thus guides the conduct of a good and
reasonable man.
4] BOOK ONE /

is sick he thinks it is health, and when he is poor he says it

is wealth; and when people are conscious of their own igno- 25

ranee, they admire those who talk above their heads in accents
of greatness. Some thinkers used to believe that there exists
over and above these many goods another good, good in itself
and by which also is the cause of good in all these
itself,

things. An examination of all the different opinions would

perhaps be a little pointless, and it is sufficient to concentrate
on those which are most in evidence or which seem to make 30
some sort of sense.
Nor must we overlook the fact that arguments which pro-
ceed from fundamental principles n are different from argu-
ments that lead up to them. Plato, too, rightly recognized this
as a problem and used to ask whether the discussion was pro-
ceeding from or leading up to fundamental principles, just as
in a race course there is a difference between running from the
judges to the far end of the track and running back again. 12 1095b
Now, we must start with the known. But this term has two
connotations: "what is known to us" and "what is known"
pure and simole. Therefore, we should start perhaps from
what is known to us. For that reason, to be a competent stu-
dent of what is right and just, and of politics generally, one 5
must first have received a proper upbringing in moral conduct.
The acceptance of a fact as a fact is the starting point, and if
this is sufficiently clear, there will be no further need to ask
why it is so. A man with this kind of background has or can
easily acquire the foundations from which he must start. But
if he neither has nor can acquire them, let him lend an ear to

Hesiod's words:

That man is all-best who himself works out 10

every problem. . . .

That man, too, is admirable who follows one

who speaks well.
11 See Glossary, arc he.
12 A Greek
race course was U-shaped with the starting line at the
open end, which is also where the judges would have their place. The
race was run around a marker set up toward the opposite end of the
U, and back again to the starting line.
 8 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

He who cannot see the truth for himself, nor,

hearing it from others,
store it away in his mind, that man
is utterly useless. 13

5. Various views on the highest good

But to return to the point from which we digressed. 14 It is

not unreasonable that men should derive their concept of the

15 good and of happiness from the lives which they lead. The
common run of people and the most vulgar identify it with
pleasure, and for that reason are satisfied with a life of enjoy-
ment. For the most notable kinds of life are three: the life
just mentioned, the political life, and the contemplative life.
The common run of people, as we saw, betray their utter
20 slavishness in their preference for a life suitable to cattle; but
their views seem plausible because many people in high places
share the feelings of Sardanapallus. 15 Cultivated and active
men, on the other hand, believe the good to be honor, for
honor, one might say, is the end of the political life. But this
is clearly too superficial an answer: for honor seems to depend

25 on those who confer it rather than on him who receives it,

whereas our guess is that the good is a man's own possession
which cannot easily be taken away from him. Furthermore,
men seem to pursue honor to assure themselves of their own
worth; at any rate, they seek to be honored by sensible men
and by those who know them, and they want to be honored
on the basis of their virtue or excellence. 16 Obviously, then,

13 Hesiod, Works and Days 293. 295-297, as translated by Richmond

Lattimore in Hesiod: The Works and Days; Thcogony; The Shield uf

Herakles (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1959).
1* The "digression" is the last paragraph of chap. 4 above.
15 Sardanapallus is the Hellenized name of the Assyrian king Ashui-

banipal (669-626 B.C.). Many stories about his sensual excesses were cur-
rent in antiquity.
K Arete denotes the functional excellence of any person, animal, or
thing— that quality which enables the possessor to perform his own
particular function well. Thus the aretai (plural) of man in relation to

other men are his qualities which enable him to function well in society.
6] BOOK ONE 9

excellence, as far as they are concerned,is better than honor. 30

One might perhaps even go so far as to consider excellence
rather than honor as the end of political life. However, even
excellence proves to be imperfect as an end: for a man might
possibly possess it while asleep or while being inactive all his

life, and while, undergoing the greatest suffering

in addition, 1096a
and misfortune. Nobody would call the life of such a man
happy, except for the sake of maintaining an argument. But
enough of this: the subject has been sufficiently treated in our
publications addressed to a wider audience. 17 In the third
place there is the contemplative life, which we shall examine 5
later on. As for the money-maker, his life is led under some
kind of constraint: clearly, wealth is not the good which we
are trying to find, for it is only useful, i.e., it is a means to
something else. Hence one might rather regard the aforemen-
tioned objects as ends, since they are valued for their own
sake.But even they prove not to be the good, though many
words have been wasted to show that they are. Accordingly,
we may dismiss them. 10

6. Plato's view of the Good

But perhaps we had better examine the universal good and
face the problem of its meaning, although such an inquiry is
The translation 'virtue' often seems too narrow, and accordingly 'excel-
lence' and combination of these, will also be used. See
'goodness,' or a
Glossary for a more complete explanation.
17 The exact meaning of ta enkyklia has been the subject of much
controversy. The basic sense of the term is 'common,' 'ordinary,' 'run-of-
the-mill,'and Aristotle seems to use it in reference to his more popular
treatises,such as the Eudemus, Protrepticus, On Kingship, etc., some of
which were written in the form of dialogues. These writings, now largely
lost, were addressed to a wider public and not exclusively to Aristotle's

pupils in the Lyceum. Moreover, it is likely that ta enkyklia refers to the

same publications as hoi exoterikoi logoi (cf. below, chap. 13, 1102a26-27,
and VI. 4, 1140a3), literally: 'outside discussions or treatises,' i.e., non-
technical philosophical writings addressed to an audience 'outside' the
circle of Aristotle's students proper. For a recent discussion of the problem,
see R. A. Gauthier and J. Y. Jolif, L'tthique a Nicomaquc, Vol. I
(Louvain, 1958), pp. 36*-40*.
 10 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

repugnant, since those who have introduced the doctrine of

Forms 18
But in the interest of truth, one
are dear to us.
should perhaps think a man, especially if he is a philosopher,
15 had better give up even (theories that once were) his own and
in fact must do so. Both are dear to us, but it is our sacred
duty to honor truth more highly (than friends}. 19
The proponents of this theory did not make Forms out of
those classes within which they recognized an order involving
priority and posteriority; for that reason they made no pro-
vision, either, for a Form comprising all numbers. 20 However,

18 The reference is of course to Plato's theory of eide or ideai and

especially the Form of the Good, which is Aristotle's chief target here.
Aristotle gives us his own understanding of that theory in two important
passages. The first is above, chap. 4, "Some thinkers used to
1095a26-28:
believe that there exists over and above these many goods [sc. pleasure,
wealth, honor, etc.] another good, good in itself, which is also the cause
of good in all these things." The second is in Eudemian Ethics I. 8,
1217b2-16:
For they say that the Good itself is the best of all (good things), and
that the Good has the attribute of being the first of the goods and
itself
of being by its presence the cause of goodness in the other goods. Both
these attributes, they say, inhere in the Form of the Good. For the . . .

Good is most truly defined in terms of the Form of the Good (since all
other goods are good (only) in terms of participating in it or resembling
it), and it is the first of the goods: for if that in which things participate

were to be destroyed, the things participating in the Form would also

be destroyed, viz., the things which derive their definition from their
participation in the Form. Now, this is the relation existing between
the first and the later (members of a series). Hence the Good itself is the
Form of the Good, for it exists separate from the things which partici-
pate in it, just as the other Forms do.
See also H. H. Joachim's remarks on this passage in his Aristotle: The
Nicomachean Ethics (Oxford, 1951), pp. 31-33.
19 It is often taken for granted that the proverb amicus Plato, sed
magis arnica Veritas stems from this passage. However, while the senti-
ment expressed here is at least as old as Plato himself (cf. Republic X.
595b-c and 607c), the proverb itself is probably based on a thirteenth-
century Latin translation of an older Greek biography of Aristotle.
20 Since for Plato and his followers the Forms are absolute being, in
which there is no room for becoming or any kind of development, they
do not recognize a Form of a developing series, in which each successive
member implies the preceding members of the same series. But, as
 6] BOOK ONE 11

the term "good" used in the categories of substance, of qual-

is

ity, and of relatedness alike; but a thing-as-such, i.e., a sub-

20

stance, is by nature prior to a relation into which it can enter:

relatedness is, as it were, an offshoot or logical accident of sub-
stance. Consequently, there cannot be a Form common to the

good-as-such and the good as a relation.

Secondly, the term "good" has as many meanings as the
word "is": it is used to describe substances, e.g., divinity and
intelligence are good; qualities, e.g., the virtues are good; 25
quantities, the proper amount is good; relatedness, e.g.,
e.g.,

the useful good; time, e.g., the right moment is good; place,
is

e.g., a place to live is good; and so forth. It is clear, therefore,

that the good cannot be something universal, common to all

cases, and single; for if it were, it would not be applicable in
all categories but only in one.
Thirdly, since the things which are included under one
Form are the subject matter of a single science, there should 30
be a single science dealing with all good things. But in actual
fact there are many sciences dealing even with the goods that
fall into a single category. To take, for example, the right mo-

ment: in war it is the proper concern of strategy, whereas in

treating a disease it is part of the study of medicine. Or to take
the proper amount: in food it is the subject of medicine; in
physical training, of gymnastics.
One might even (go further and) raise the question what
Aristotle proceeds to show, the term "good" belongs to such a develop-
ing series: if we call a certain quality, e.g., blueness, "good," we have to
assume first that there is such a thing as blueness, i.e., we have to pred-
icate it in the category of substance before we can predicate it in the
category of quality.
A few words ought to be said here about Aristotle's "categories." The
categories constitute a list of the general types of predicates that can
be assigned to any subject. The first and most basic category is that of
substance or being: this includes all predicates which attempt to answer
the question, "what Examples would be: "a man," "an animal,"
is it?"
"a mountain." After we have
identified what the thing is (substance), we
may say how large it is (quantity), what sort of thing it is (quality), in
what relation it stands to something else (relatedness), and so forth. The
matter is treated in detail in Aristotle's Categories.
 12 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

35 exactly they mean by a "thing-as-such"; for the selfsame defini-

1096b tion of "man" applies to both "man-as-such" and a particular
man. For inasmuch as they refer to "man," there will be no
difference between the two; and if this is true, there will be no
difference, either, between "good-as-such" and "good," since
both are good. Nor indeed will the "good-as-such" be more of
a good because it is everlasting: after all, whiteness which lasts
for a long time is no whiter than whiteness which lasts only
for a day.
5 The argument of the Pythagoreans on this point seems to
be more convincing. They give unity a place in the column of
goods; and indeed even Speusippus seems to follow them. But
more about this elsewhere. 21
An objection might be raised against what we have said on
the ground that the (Platonic) doctrine does not refer to every
kind of good, and that only things which are pursued and
10 loved for their own sake are called "good" by reference to one
single Form. That which produces good or somehow guaran-
tees its permanence, (the Platonists argue,} or that which
prevents the opposite of a good from asserting itself is called
"good" because it is conducive to the intrinsically good and in
a different sense. Now, the term "good" has obviously two
different meanings: (1) things which are intrinsically good, and

(2) things which are good as being conducive to the intrinsi-

cally good. Let us, therefore, separate the intrinsically good
15 things from the useful things and examine whether they are
called "good" by reference to a single Form.
What sort of things could be called intrinsically good? Are
they the goods that are pursued without regard to additional
benefits, such as thought, sight, certain pleasures and honors?
For even if we pursue these also for the sake of something else,
one would still classify them among things intrinsically good.
20 Or is nothing good except the Form of Good? If that is the

case, the Form will be pointless. But if, on the contrary,

21 For the Pythagorean table of opposites, see Metaphysics A. 986a22-26.

Speusippus was a disciple of Plato and succeeded him v» head of the

Academy.
6] BOOK ONE 13

thought, sight, belong to the group of intrinsically

etc. also

good things, the same definition of "good" will have to be

manifested in all of them, just as, for example, the definition
of whiteness is the same in snow and in white paint. But in
actual fact, the definitions of "good" as manifested in honor,
thought, and pleasure are different and distinct. The good,
therefore, is not some element common to all these things as 25
derived from one Form.
Whet, then, is the meaning of "good" (in these different
things}? Surely, it is not that they merely happen to have the
same name. Do we call them "good" because they are derived
from a single good, or because they all aim at a single good?
Or do we rather call them "good" by analogy, e.g., as sight is
good in the body, so intelligence is good in the soul, and so
other things are good within their respective fields?
But perhaps this subject should be dismissed for the present, 30
because a detailed discussion of it belongs more properly to a
different branch of philosophy, (namely, first philosophy). The
same applies to the Form (of the Good): for, assuming that
there is some single good which different things possess in com-
mon, or that there exists a good absolutely in itself and by it-
self, it evidently is something which cannot be realized in ac-

tion or attained by man. But the good which we are now

seeking must be attainable.
Perhaps one may think that the recognition of an absolute 35
good will be advantageous for the purpose of attaining and
realizing in action the goods which can be attained and real- 1097a
ized. By treating the absolute good as a pattern, (they might
argue,) we shall gain a better knowledge of what things are
good for us, and once we know that, we can achieve them.
This argument has, no doubt, some plausibility; however, it
does not tally with the procedure of the sciences. For while all 5
the sciences aim at some good and seek to fulfill it, they leave
the knowledge of the absolute good out of consideration. Yet
if this knowledge were such a great help, it would make no

sense that all the craftsmen are ignorant of it and do not even
attempt to seek it. One might also wonder what benefit a
 14 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

weaver or a carpenter might derive in the practice of his own

art from a knowledge of the absolute Good, or In what way
a physician who has contemplated the Form of the Good will
become more of a physician or a general more of a general.
For actually, a physician does not even examine health in this
fashion; he examines the health of man, or perhaps better, the
health of a particular man, for he practices his medicine on
particular cases. So much for this.

7. The good is final and self-sufficient; happiness is defined

15 Let us return again to our investigation into the nature of

the good which we are seeking. It is evidently something dif-
ferent in different actions and in each art: it is one thing in
medicine, another in strategy, and another again in each of the
other arts. What, then, is the good of each? Is it not that for
the sake of which everything else is done? That means it is
health in the case of medicine, victory in the case of strategy,
20 a house in the case of building, a different thing in the case
of different arts, and in all actions and choices it is the end.
For it is for the sake of the end that all else is done. Thus, if
there is some one end for all that we do, this would be the

good attainable by action; if there are several ends, they will

be the goods attainable by action.
Our argument has gradually progressed to the same point at
25 which we were before, 22 and we must try to clarify it still fur-
ther. Since there are evidently several ends, and since we
choose some of these— e.g., wealth, flutes, and instruments
generally— as a means to something else, it is obvious that not
all ends are final. The highest good, on the other hand, must
be something final. 23 Thus, if there is only one final end, this
will be the good we are seeking; if there are several, it will be
30 the most final and perfect of them. We call that which is pur-
sued as an end in itself more final than an end which is pur-
sued for the sake of something else; and what is never chosen
22 The reference is to the beginning of chap. 2 above.
25 See Glossary, teleios.
7] BOOK ONE 15

as a means to something else we call more final than that

which is chosen both as an end in itself and as a means to
something else. What is always chosen as an end in itself and
never as a means to something else is called final in an un-
qualified sense. This description seems to apply to happiness
above all else: for we always choose happiness as an end in it- 1097b
selfand never for the sake of something else. Honor, pleasure,
intelligence, and all virtue we choose partly for themselves—
for we would choose each of them even if no further advan-
tage would accrue from them— but we also choose them partly
for the sake of happiness, because we assume that it is through
them that we will be happy. On the other hand, no one 5

chooses happiness for the sake of honor, pleasure, and the like,
nor as a means to anything at all.

Wearrive at the same conclusion if we approach the ques-

tion from the standpoint of self-sufficiency. For the final and
perfect good seems to be self-sufficient. However, we define
something as self-sufficient not by reference to the "self" alone.
We do not mean a man who lives his life in isolation, but a
man who also lives with parents, children, a wife, and friends 10

and fellow citizens generally, since man is by nature a social

and political being. 24 But some limit must be set to these rela-
tionships; for if they are extended to include ancestors, de-
scendants, and friends of friends, they will go on to infinity.
However, this point must be reserved for investigation later. 25
For the present we define as "self-sufficient" that which taken
by itself makes life something desirable and deficient in noth- 15
ing. It is happiness, in our opinion, which fits this description.
Moreover, happiness is of all things the one most desirable,
and it is not counted as one good thing among many others.
But if it were counted as one among many others, it is obvi-
ous that the addition of even the least of the goods would
make it more desirable; for the addition would produce an
extra amount of good, and the greater amount of good is al-
ways more desirable than the lesser. We see then that happi-
24 Cf. Politics I. 2, 1253a3, and Glossary, politiki.
2«See below, chaps. 10 and 11, and IX. 10.
 16 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

20 ness is something final and self-sufficient and the end of our

actions.
To call happiness the highest good is perhaps a little trite,

and a clearer account of what it is, is still required. Perhaps

this is best done by first ascertaining the proper function 26 of
man. For and performance of a flute
just as the goodness
25 player, a sculptor, or any kind of expert, and generally of any-
one who fulfills some function or performs some action, are
thought to reside in his proper function, so the goodness and
performance of man would seem to reside in whatever is his
proper function. Is it then possible that while a carpenter and a
shoemaker have their own proper functions and spheres of ac-
tion, man as man has none, but was left by nature a good-for-
30 nothing without a function? 27 Should we not assume that just
as the eye, the hand, the foot, and in general each part of the
body clearly has its own proper function, so man too has some
function over and above the functions of his parts? What can
this function possibly be? Simply living? He shares that even
with plants, but we are now looking for something peculiar to
1098a man. Accordingly, the life of nutrition and growth must be
excluded. 28 Next in line there is a life of sense perception. But
this, too, man has in common with the horse, the ox, and every
animal. There remains then an active life of the rational ele-
ment. The rational element has two parts: one is rational in
that it obeys the rule of reason., the other in that it possesses
and conceives rational rules. Since the expression "life of the
5 rational element" also can be used in two senses, we must make
it clear that we mean a life determined by the activity, 29 as
26 See Glossary, ergon.
27 The translation here has to be more explicit than the Greek: argon
is a double-entendre, which means literally 'without function' or 'doing
no work' but was also used colloquially to denote a 'loafer.'
28 Cf. Aristotle's later work, the De Anima II. 2, 413a20 ff., where the
different kinds of life are elaborated to include the life of nutrition, of
sense perception, of thought, and of movement, to which desire is added
in II. 3, 414a31. See also below, p. 30, note 47.
29 See Glossary, energeia.
7] BOOK ONE 17

opposed to the mere possession, of the rational element. For

the activity, it seems, has a greater claim to be the function of
man.
The proper function of man, then, consists in an activity of
the soul in conformity with a rational principle or, at least,
not without it. In speaking of the proper function of a given
individual we mean that it is the same in kind as the function
of an individual who sets high standards for himself: 30 the
proper function of a harpist, for example, is the same as the
function of a harpist who has set high standards for himself.
The same applies to any and every group of individuals: the 10
full attainment of excellence must be added to the mere func-
tion. In other words, the function of the harpist is to play the
harp; the function of the harpist who has high standards is to
play it well. On these assumptions, if we take the proper func-
tion of man to be a certain kind of life, and kind of
if this

life is an activity of the soul and consists in actions performed

in conjunction with the rational element, and if a man of high
standards he who performs these actions well and properly,
is

and if a function is well performed when it is performed in

accordance with the excellence appropriate to it; we reach the 15
conclusion that 31 the good of man is an activity of the soul in
conformity with excellence or virtue, and if there are several
virtues, in conformity with the best and most complete.
But we must add "in a complete life." For one swallow does

30 This is the first occurrence in the Nic. Eth. of the spoudaios (liter-

ally, 'serious man*), whom Aristotle frequently invokes for purposes similar
to those which make modern laws invoke the "reasonable man." However,
Aristotle's stressis less on the reasonableness of a man under particular

circumstances than on a person who has a sense of the importance of

living his life well and of fulfilling his function in society in accordance
with the highest standards.
31 There is no good reason to follow Bywater in bracketing lines 12-16

("if we take the proper function of man ... we reach the conclusion

that") on the grounds that they merely repeat the preceding argument.
On the contrary, they provide an excellent summary and should be re-
tained.
 18 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

not make a spring, nor does one sunny day; similarly, one day
or a short time does not make a man blessed 32 and happy.
20 This will suffice as an outline of the good: lor perhaps one
ought to make a general sketch first and fill in the details after-
wards. Once a good outline has been made, anyone, it seems, is
capable of developing and completing it in detail, and time
is a good inventor or collaborator Advances
in such an effort.
25 in the arts, 33 too, have come about anyone
in this way, for
can fill in gaps. We must also bear in mind what has been said
above, namely that one should not require precision in all
pursuits alike, but in each field precision varies with the mat-
ter under discussion and should be required only to the extent
to which it is appropriate to the investigation. A carpenter
and a geometrician both want to find a right angle, but they
SO do not want to find it in the same sense: the former wants to
find it to the extent to which it is useful for his work, the lat-
ter, wanting to see truth, (tries to ascertain) what it is and

what sort of thing it is. We must, likewise, approach other

same spirit, in order to prevent minor points
subjects in the
from assuming a greater importance than the major tasks.
1098b Nor should we demand to know a causal explanation in all
matters alike; in some instances, e.g., when dealing with fun-
damental principles, it is sufficient to point out convincingly
that such-and-such is in fact the case. The fact here is the pri-
mary thing and the fundamental principle. Some fundamental
principles can be apprehended by induction, others by sense
perception, others again by some sort of habituation, 34 and

32 The distinction Aristotle seems to observe between makarios, 'blessed*

or 'supremely happy/ and eudaimon, 'happy/ is that the former describes
happiness insofar as it is god-given, while the latter describes happiness
as attained by man through his own efforts.
Greek sense of "art," techne, see Glossary.
33 For the
34 This, according to Aristotle, is the way in which the fundamental
principles of ethics are learned, and for that reason a person must be
mature in order to be able to study ethics properly. It is most important
for the modern reader to note that Aristotle is not trying to persuade his
listener of the truth of these principles, but takes it for granted that he
has learned them at home. Cf. also above, chap. 3, 1095a2-ll, and II. 1.
8] BOOK ONE 19

others by still other means. We must try to get at each of them

in a way naturally appropriate to it, and must be scrupulous
in denning it correctly, because it is of great importance for
the subsequent course of the discussion. Surely, a good begin-
ning is more than half the whole, and as it comes to light, it
sheds light' on many problems.

8. Popular views about happiness confirm our position

We must examine the fundamental principle with which we

are concerned, (happiness,) not only on the basis of the logical
conclusion we have reached and on the basis of the elements
which make up its definition, but also on the basis of the views 10

commonly expressed about it. For in a true statement, all the

facts are in harmony; in a false statement, truth soon intro-
duces a discordant note.
Good things are commonly divided into three classes: (1)
external goods, (2) goods of the soul, and (3) goods of the
body. Of these, we call the goods pertaining to the soul goods
in the highest and fullest sense. But in speaking of "soul," we
refer to our and activities. 35 Thus, our definition
soul's actions 15
tallies withthis opinion which has been current for a long
time and to which philosophers subscribe. We are also right in
defining the end as consisting of actions and activities; for in
this way the end is included among the goods of the soul and
not among external goods.
Also the view that a happy man lives well and fares well 20
fits in with our definition: for we have all but denned happi-

ness as a kind of good life and well-being.

Moreover, the characteristics which one looks for in happiness
are all included in our definition. For some people think that
happiness is is practical wisdom, others
virtue, others that it

that it is some kind wisdom; 36 others again be-

of theoretical
lieve it to be all or some of these accompanied by, or not de- 25
void of, pleasure; and some people also include external pros-
35 See Glossary, energeia.
36 See Glossary, phronisis and sophia.
 20 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

perity in its Some of these views are expressed by

definition. 37
many people and have come down from antiquity, some by a
few men of high prestige, and it is not reasonable to assume
that both groups are altogether wrong; the presumption is

rather that they are right in at least one or even in most

respects.
Now, our definition we are in agreement with those who
in
30 describe happiness as virtue or as some particular virtue, for
our term "activity in conformity with virtue" implies virtue.
But it does doubtless make a considerable difference whether
we think of the highest good as consisting in the possession or
in the practice of virtue, being a characteristic 38 or an
viz., as

activity. For a characteristic may exist without producing any

1099a good result, as for example, in a man who is asleep or incapac-
itated in some other respect. An activity, on the other hand,
must produce a result: (an active person) will necessarily act
and act well. Just as the crown at the Olympic Games is not
awarded to the most beautiful and the strongest but to the
5 participants in the contests— for it is among them that the vic-
tors are found— so the good and noble things in life are won by
those who act rightly.
The life of men active in this sense is also pleasant in itself.

For the sensation of pleasure belongs to the soul, and each

man derives pleasure from what he is said to love: a lover of
horses from horses, a lover of the theater from plays, and in
10 the same way a lover of justice from just acts, and a lover of

37 It is possible to identify the proponents of some of the views men-

tioned here with a fair degree of assurance. The view that virtue alone
constitutes happiness was espoused by Antisthenes and the Cynics (and
later by the Stoics); in VI. 13, 1144M7-21, the doctrine that all virtues
are forms of phronesis or 'practical wisdom' is attributed to Socrates;
theoretical wisdom as virtue may perhaps be attributed to Anaxagoras
and his doctrine of Nous; the view that pleasure must be added to virtue
and wisdom is that of Plato's Philebus 27d, 60d-e, and 63e; and the an-
cient commentators on this passage identify Xenocrates, Plato's pupil and
later head of the Academy, as regarding external goods as essential for
the good life.
38 See Glossary, hexis, and II. 5.
 8] BOOK ONE 21

from virtuous acts. In most men, pleasant acts

virtue in general
conflictwith one another because they are not pleasant by
nature, but men who love what is noble derive pleasure from
what is naturally pleasant. Actions which conform to virtue
are naturally pleasant, and, as a result, such actions are not
only pleasant for those who love the noble but also pleasant
in themselves. The life of such men has no further need of 15
pleasure as an added attraction, but it contains pleasure
within itself. We may even go so far as to state that the man
who does not enjoy performing noble actions is not a good
man at all. Nobody would call a man just who does not enjoy
acting justly, nor generous who does not enjoy generous 20
actions, and so on. If thisis true, actions performed in con-

formity with virtue are in themselves pleasant.

Of course it goes without saying that such actions are good
as well as noble,and they are both in the highest degree, if
the man of high moral standards displays any right judgment
about them at all; and his judgment corresponds to our de-
scription. So we see that happiness is at once the best, noblest,
and most pleasant thing, and these qualities are not separate, 25
as the inscription at Delos makes out:

The most just is most noble, but health is the best,

and to win what one loves is pleasantest.
For the best activities encompass all these attributes, and it is
in these, or in the best one of them, that we maintain happi- 30
ness consists.
Still, happiness, as we have said, needs external goods as
well. For impossible or at least not easy to perform noble
it is

actions if one lacks the wherewithal. Many actions can only be

performed with the help of instruments, as it were: friends, 1099b
wealth, and political power. And there are some external
goods the absence of which spoils supreme happiness, e.g.,
good birth, good children, and beauty:
man who is very for a
ugly in appearance or ill-born or who lives all by himself and
has no children cannot be classified as altogether happy; even
less happy perhaps is a man whose children and friends are 5
 22 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

worthless, or one who has lost good children and friends

through death. Thus, as we have said, 39 happiness also requires
well-being of this kind, and that is the reason why some classify

good fortune with happiness, while others link it to virtue.

9. How happiness is acquired

This also explains why there is a problem whether happi-

ness is acquired by learning, by discipline, or by some other

10 kind of training, or whether we attain it by reason of some

divine dispensation or even by chance. Now, if there is any-
thing at all which comes to men as a gift from the gods, it is
reasonable to suppose that happiness above all else is god-
given; and of all things human it is the most likely to be
god-given, inasmuch as it is the best. But although this subject
is perhaps more appropriate to a different field of study, it is

clear that happiness is one of the most divine things, even if

15 it is not god-sent but attained through virtue and some kind

of learning or training. For the prize and end of excellence

and virtue is the best thing of all, and it is something divine
and blessed. 40 Moreover, if happiness depends on excellence,
it will be shared by many people; for study and effort will

make it accessible to anyone whose capacity for virtue is unim-

paired. And if it is better that happiness is acquired in this
20 way rather than by chance, it is reasonable to assume that this
is the way in which it is acquired. For, in the realm of nature,
things are naturally arranged in the best way possible— and the
same is also true of the products of art and of any kind of
causation, especially the highest. To leave the greatest and
noblest of things to chance would hardly be right.
25 A solution of this question is by our earlier
also suggested
definition, according to which the good of man, happiness, is
some kind of activity of the soul in conformity with virtue. 41
All the other goods are either necessary prerequisites for
39 See above, 1098b26-29.
40 See p. 18, note 32.
41 See above, chap. 7, 1098al6-17.
10] BOOK ONE 23

happiness, or are by nature co-workers with it and useful

instruments for attaining it. Our results also tally with what
we said at the outset: ** for we stated that the end of politics
is the best of ends; and the main concern of politics is to 30
engender a certain character in the citizens and to make them
good and disposed to perform noble actions.
We are right, then, when we
call neither a horse nor an ox
nor any other animal happy, for none of them is capable of
participating in an activity of this kind. For the same reason, 1100a
a child is not happy, either; for, because of his age, he cannot
yet perform such actions. When we do call a child happy, we
do so by reason of the hopes we have for his future. Happi-
ness, as we have said, requires completeness in virtue as well
as a complete lifetime. Many changes and all kinds of con- 5
tingencies befall a man in the course of his life, and it is pos-
sible that the most prosperous man will encounter great mis-
fortune in his old age, as the Trojan legends tell about Priam.
When a man has met a fate such as his and has come to a
wretched end, no one calls him happy.

10. Can a man be called "happy" during his lifetime?

Must we, "happy" to no man at all

then, apply the term 10
as long as he is alive? Must we, as Solon would have us do,
wait to see his end? 43 And, on this assumption, is it also true
that a man is actually happy after he is dead? Is this not
simply absurd, especially for us who define happiness as a
kind of activity? Suppose we do not call a dead man happy,
and interpret Solon's words to mean that only when a man is 15
dead can we safely say that he has been happy, since he is
now beyond the reach of evil and misfortune— this view, too,
is open to objection. For it seems that to some extent good and

evil really exist for a dead man, just as they may exist for a

42 See above, chap. 2, 1094a27-b7.

43 This is one of the main points made by Solon, Athenian statesman
and poet of the early sixth century B.C., in his conversation with the
Lydian king, Croesus, in Herodotus I. 32.
 24 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

man who lives without being conscious of them, for example,

20 honors and disgraces, and generally the successes and failures
of his children and descendants. 44 This presents a further
problem. A man who has lived happily to his old age and has
died as happily as he lived may have many vicissitudes befall
his descendants: some of them may be good and may be
25 granted the kind of life which they deserve, and others may
not. It is, further, obvious that the descendants may conceiv-
ably be removed from their ancestors by various degrees.
Under such circumstances, it would be odd if the dead man
would share in the vicissitudes of his descendants and be
happy at one time and wretched at another. But it would also
be odd if the fortunes of their descendants did not affect the
30 ancestors at all, not even for a short time.
But we must return to the problem raised earlier, for
through it our present problem perhaps may be solved. If one
must look to the end and praise a man not as being happy but
as having been happy in the past, is it not paradoxical that
at a time when a man actually is happy this attribute, though
35 true, cannot be applied to him? We are unwilling to call the
1100b living happy because changes may befall them and because
we believe that happiness has permanence and is not amen-
able to changes under any circumstances, whereas fortunes
revolve many times in one person's lifetime. For obviously, if

44 The comment on this passage by J. Burnet, The Ethics of Aristotle

(London, 1900), p. 49, is worth quoting:
There is no question here as to the departed being aware of what goes
on in this world. On the contrary, the point is that what happens after
a man's death may affect our estimate of his life in just the same way
as what happens in his lifetime without his being aware of it. Neither
makes any difference to the man himself, but the popular belief is . . .

that it must affect our estimate of it. We cannot call that life a success
which leads to failure, even though the man himself may never know
of his failure, or may die in time to escape it. So with the fortunes of
children. Even now we say 'what would his father think, if he were
alive?'

It should be added, however, that the Greeks had a much stronger feeling
for the cohesion of the family than we do; cf. G. Glotz, La solidariti de la
famille dans le droit criminel en Grece (Paris, 1904).
10] BOOK ONE 2.)

we are to keep pace with a man's fortune, we shall frequently

have to call the same man happy at one time and wretched 5

at another and demonstrate that the happy man is a kind of

chameleon, and that the foundations (of his life) are unsure.
Or is it quite wrong to make our judgment depend on for-
tune? Yes, it is wrong, for fortune does not determine whether
we fare well or ill, but is, as we said, merely an accessory to
human life; activities in conformity with virtue constitute 10

happiness, and the opposite activities constitute its opposite.

The question which we have just discussed further confirms
our definition. For no function of man possesses as much
stability asdo activities in conformity with virtue: these seem
to be even more durable than scientific knowledge. And the
higher the virtuous activities, the more durable they are, be- 15

cause men who are supremely happy spend their lives in

these activities most intensely and most continuously, and
this seems to be the reason why such activities cannot be for-
gotten.
The happy man will have the attribute of permanence
which we are discussing, and he will remain happy through-
out his life. For he will always or to the highest degree both
do and contemplate what is in conformity with virtue; he will
bear the vicissitudes of fortune most nobly and with perfect 20
decorum under all circumstances, inasmuch as he is truly
good and "four-square beyond reproach." 45
But fortune brings many things to pass, some great and
some small. Minor instances of good and likewise of bad luck
obviously do not decisively tip the scales of life, but a number 25
of major successes will make life more perfectly happy; for,
in the first place, by their very nature they help to make life
attractive, and secondly, they afford the opportunity for noble
and good actions. On the other hand, frequent reverses can
crush and mar supreme happiness in that they inflict pain
and thwart many activities. Still, nobility shines through even 30
in such circumstances, when a man bears many great misfor-

45 A quotation from a poem of Simonides (ca. 556-468 B.C.), which is

discussed bv Socrates and Protagoras in Plato's Protagoras 338e-318a.
 26 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

tunes with good grace not because he is insensitive to pain

but because he noble and high-minded.
is

If, as we determine a man's life, no su-

said, the activities
premely happy man can ever become miserable, for he will
35 never do what is hateful and base. For in our opinion, the
1101a man who good and wise will bear with dignity what-
is truly
ever fortune may
bring, and will always act as nobly as cir-
cumstances permit, just as a good general makes the most
strategic use of the troops at his disposal, and a good shoe-
5 maker makes the best shoe he can from the leather available,
and so on with experts in all other fields. If this is true, a
happy man will never become miserable; but even so, supreme
happiness will not be hisif a fate such as Priam's befalls him.

And he will not be fickle and changeable; he will not be

yet,
10 dislodged from his happiness easily by any misfortune that
comes along, but only by great and numerous disasters such as
will make it impossible for him to become happy again in a
short time; if he recovers his happiness at all, it will be only
after a long period of time, in which he has won great dis-

tinctions.
Is there anything to prevent us, then, from defining the
happy man as one whose an expression of com-
activities are
15 plcte virtue, and who is equipped with external
sufficiently
goods, not simply at a given moment but to the end of his life?
Or should we add that he must die as well as live in the. man-
ner which we have defined? For we cannot foresee the future,
and happiness, we maintain, is an end which is absolutely
final and complete in every respect. If this be granted, we shall
define as "supremely happy" those living men who fulfill and
20 continue to fulfill these requirements, but blissful only as
human beings. So much for this question.

11. Do the fortunes of the living affect the dead?

That the fortunes of his descendants and of all those near

and dear to him do not affect the happiness of a dead man
12] BOOK ONE 27

at all, seems too unfeeling a view and contrary to the prevail-

ing opinions. Many and different in kind are the accidents
that can befall us, and some hit home more closely than 25
others. It would, therefore, seem to be a long and endless task
to make detailed distinctions, and perhaps a general outline
will be sufficient. Just as one's own misfortunes are sometimes
momentous and decisive for one's life and sometimes seem
comparatively less important, so the misfortunes of our vari- 30
ous friends affect us to varying degrees. In each case makes it

a considerable difference whether those who are affected by an

event are living or dead; much more so than it matters in a
tragedy whether the crimes and horrors have been perpetrated
before the opening of the play or are part of the plot. This
difference, too, must be taken into account and perhaps still
more the problem whether the dead participate in any good 35
or evil. These considerations suggest that even if any good or 1101b
evil reaches them at all, it must be something weak and negligi-
ble (either intrinsically or in relation to them), or at least some-
thing too small and insignificant to make the unhappy happy
or to deprive the happy of their bliss. The good as well as the 5
bad fortunes of their friends seem, then, to have some effect
upon the dead, but the nature and magnitude of the effect is
such as not to make the happy unhappy or to produce any
similar changes.

12. The praise accorded to happiness

Now that we have settled these questions, let us consider 10

whether happiness is to be classified among the things which
we praise or rather among those which we honor; for it is clear
that it is not a potential (but an actual good}. 46
46 Cf. Magna Moralia I. 2, 1183b20-30:
Some things are goods we honor, others things we praise, and others
again are potential goods. By goods we honor I mean things such as
the divine; things which are better (than the ordinary), such as the
soul or the intelligence; things which are older (than most), such as
the original source and the like. ... By goods we praise I mean, for
 28 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

The grounds on which we bestow praise on anything evi-

dently are its quality and the relation in which it stands to
other things. In other words, we praise a just man, a coura-
geous man, and in general any good man, and also his virtue
15 or excellence, on the basis of his actions and achievements;
moreover, we praise a strong man, a swift runner, and so forth,
because he possesses a certain natural quality and stands in a
certain relation to something good and worth while. Our feel-

ings about praising the gods provide a further illustration of

this point. For it is ridiculous to refer the gods to our stand-
20 ards; but this is precisely what praising them amounts to, since
praise, as we said, entails a reference to something else. But
if praise is appropriate only for relative things, it is clear that
the best things do not call for praise but for something greater
and better, as indeed is generally recognized: for we call the
gods "blessed" and "happy" and use these terms also for the
25 most godlike man. The same is true of good things: no one
praises happiness in the same sense in which he praises justice,
but he exalts its bliss as something better and more nearly
divine.
Eudoxus, too, seems to have used the right method for ad-
vocating that pleasure is the most excellent, for he took the
fact that pleasure, though a good, is not praised as an indica-
30 tion of its superiority to the things that are praised, as god
and the good are, for they are the standards to which we refer
everything else.

Praise is proper to virtue or excellence, because it is excel-

lence thatmakes men capable of performing noble deeds. Eu-
on the other hand, are appropriate for achievements of
logies,
the body as well as of the mind. However, a detailed analysis
of this subject is perhaps rather the business of those who have

example, the virtues, since actions done in conformity with them bring
praise; and potential goods are, for instance, political power, wealth,
strength, and beauty, for a man of high moral principles has the capac-
ity to use these well and a bad man to use them badly. Therefore such
goods are called potential.
13] BOOK ONE 29

made a study of eulogies. For our present purposes, we may 35

draw the conclusion from the preceding argument that hap-
piness one of the goods that are worthy of honor and are
is 1102a
final. This again seems to be due to the fact that it is a starting

point or fundamental principle, since for its sake all of us do

everything else. And the source and cause of all good things
we consider as something worthy of honor and as divine.

13. The psychological foundations of the virtues

Since happiness is a certain activity of the soul in conformity 5

with perfect virtue, we must now examine what virtue or ex-

cellence is. For such an inquiry will perhaps better enable us
to discover the nature of happiness. Moreover, the man who is

truly concerned about politics seems to devote special atten-

tion to excellence, since aim to make the citizens good
it is his
and law-abiding. We have an example of this in the lawgivers 10

of Crete and Sparta and in other great legislators. If an ex-

amination of virtue is part of politics, this question clearly fits

into the pattern of our original plan.

There can be no doubt that the virtue which we have to
study is human virtue. For the good which we have been seek-

ing is a human good and the happiness a human happiness. 15

By human virtue we do not mean the excellence of the body,
but that of the soul, and we define happiness as an activity of
the soul. If this is true, the student of politics must obviously
have some knowledge of the workings of the soul, just as the
man who is must know something about the
to heal eyes
whole body. In fact, knowledge is all the more important for 20
the former, inasmuch as politics is better and more valuable
than medicine, and cultivated physicians devote much time
and trouble to gain knowledge about the body. Thus, the stu-
dent of politics must study the soul, but he must do so with his
own aim in view, and only to the extent that the objects of his
inquiry demand: to go into it in greater detail would perhaps 25
be more laborious than his purposes require.
 30 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

Some things that are said about the soul in our less technical
discussions 47 enough to be used here, for in-
are adequate
stance, that the soul consists oftwo elements, one irrational
and one rational. Whether these two elements are separate,
like the parts of the body or any other divisible thing, or
30 whether they are only logically separable though in reality
indivisible, as convex and concave are in the circumference of
a circle, is irrelevant for our present purposes.
Of the irrational element, again, one part seems to be com-
mon to all living things and vegetative in nature: I mean that
part which is responsible for nurture and growth. We must
assume that some such capacity of the soul exists in everything
1102b that takes nourishment, in the embryonic stage as well as when
the organism is fully developed; for this makes more sense
than to assume the existence of some different capacity at the
latter stage. The excellence of this part of the soul is, there-
fore, shown to be common and is not ex-
to all living things
clusively human. This very part and this capacity seem to be
5 most active in sleep. For in sleep the difference between a good
man and a bad is least apparent— whence the saying that for
half their lives the happy are no better off than the wretched.
This is just what we would expect, for sleep is an inactivity
of the soul in that it ceases to do things which cause it to be
called good or bad. However, to a small extent some bodily
movements do penetrate to the soul in sleep, and in this sense
10 the dreams of honest men are better than those of average peo-
ple. But enough of this subject: we may pass by the nutritive
part, since it has no natural share in human excellence or
virtue.
In addition to this, there seems to be another integral ele-
47 See p. 9, note 17. It is interesting to note that in this connection
Aristotle does not mention the extant De Anima, which differs consider-
ably from his remarks here and even contradicts them, but refers instead
to an earlier work now lost, perhaps the Protrepticus. The reason for
this is presumably that the De Anima was written later than this section
of the Nic. Eth.; cf. F. Nuyens, L 'evolution de la psychologie d'Aristote
(Louvain, 1948), pp. 189-93. The same is probably true also of the dis-
cussion of the soul in VI. 1, 1139a3-17.
13] BOOK ONE 31

ment of the soul which, though irrational, still does partake of

reason in some way. In morally strong and morally weak men
we praise the reason that guides them and the rational ele-
ment of the soul, because it exhorts them to follow the right 15

path and to do what is best. Yet we see in them also another

natural strain different from the rational, which rights and re-
sists the guidance of reason. The soul behaves in precisely the
same manner as do the paralyzed limbs of the body. When we
intend to move the limbs to the right, they turn to the left, 20
and weak persons turn in
similarly, the impulses of morally
the direction opposite to that in which reason leads them.
However, while the aberration of the body is visible, that of
the soul is not. But perhaps we must accept it as a fact, never-
theless, that there is something in the soul besides the rational
element, which opposes and reacts against it. In what way the
two are distinctneed not concern us here. But, as we have 25
stated, it too seems to partake of reason; at any rate, in a mor-
ally strong man it accepts the leadership of reason, and is per-
haps more obedient still in a self-controlled and courageous 48

man, since in him everything is in harmony with the voice of

reason.
Thus we see that the irrational element of the soul has
two parts: the one is vegetative and has no share in reason
at all, the other is the seat of the appetites and of desire in 30
general and partakes of reason insofar as it complies with
reason and accepts its leadership; it possesses reason in the
sense that we say it is "reasonable" to accept the advice of a
father and we have a "ra-
of friends, not in the sense that
tional" understanding of mathematical propositions. That the
irrational element can be persuaded by the rational is shown
by the fact that admonition and all manner of rebuke and
exhortation are possible. If it is correct to say that the appeti- 1103a
tive part, too, has reason, it follows that the rational element
of the soul has two subdivisions: the one possesses reason in

48 The problems involved in self-control and in moral strength are

discussed in III. 10-12, and VII, respectively. For the distinction between
sophron, 'self-controlled,' and enkrates, 'morally strong,' see the Glossary.
 32 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
the strict sense, contained within itself, and the other possesses
reason in the sense that it listens to reason as one would listen
to a father.
Virtue, too, is differentiated in line with this division of
5 the soul. We call some virtues "intellectual" and others
"moral": theoretical wisdom, understanding, and practical
wisdom are intellectual virtues, generosity and self-control
moral virtues. In speaking of a man's character, we do not
describe him as wise or understanding, but as gentle or self-

controlled; but we praise the wise man, too, for his character-
10 istic, and praiseworthy characteristics are what we call virtues.
 BOOK II

1. Moral virtue as the result of habits

Virtue, as we have two kinds, intellectual

seen, consists of
virtue and moral virtue. Intellectual virtue or excellence owes 15

its origin and development chiefly to teaching, and for that

reason requires experience and time. Moral virtue, on the

other hand, is formed by habit, ethos, and its name, ethike, is
therefore derived, by a slight variation, from ethos. This
shows, too, that none of the moral virtues is implanted in us
by nature, for nothing which exists by nature can be changed
by habit. For example, it is impossible for a stone, which has 20
a natural downward movement, to become habituated to mov-
ing upward, even if one should try ten thousand times to
inculcate the habit by throwing it in the air; nor can fire
be made to move downward, nor can the direction of any
nature-given tendency be changed by habituation. Thus, the
virtues are implanted in us neither by nature nor contrary to
nature: we are by nature equipped with the ability to receive
them, and habit brings this ability to completion and ful- 25
fillment. 1
Furthermore, of all the qualities with which we are endowed
by nature, we are provided with the capacity first, and display
the activity afterward. 2 That this is true is shown by the
senses: it is not by frequent seeing or frequent hearing that we
i What we get in this paragraph is answer to the problem
Aristotle's
raised at the opening of Plato's Meno whether excellence is acquired
(70a)
by teaching, by practice, or by nature. This problem, also hinted at by
Aristotle at the beginning of I. 3 above, is fully articulated in Eudemian
Ethics I. 1, 1214al4ff.
2 See Glossary, energeia and dynamis. For Aristotle, the dynamis ('capac-
ity,' 'ability,' 'potentiality') remains latent until it is developed into an
energeia ('actuality,' 'activity'), i.e., into an actual result or achievement.

33
 34 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

acquired our senses, but on the contrary we first possess and

30 then use them; we do not acquire them by use. The virtues,
on the other hand, we acquire by first having put them into
action, and the same is also true of the arts. 3 For the things
which we have to learn before we can do them we learn by
doing: men become builders by building houses, and harpists
by playing the harp. Similarly, we become just by the practice
1103b of just actions, self-controlled by exercising self-control, and
courageous by performing acts of courage.
This is corroborated by what happens in states. Lawgivers
make the citizens good by inculcating (good) habits in them,
and this is the aim of every lawgiver; if he does not succeed
5 in doing that, his legislation is a failure. It is in this that a
good constitution from a bad one.
differs
Moreover, the same causes and the same means that pro-
duce any excellence or virtue can also destroy it, and this is
also true of every art. It is by playing the harp that men be-
come both good and bad harpists, and correspondingly with
10 builders and all the other craftsmen: a man who builds well
will be a good builder, one who builds badly a bad one. For
if this were not so, there would be no need for an instructor,

but everybody would be born as a good or a bad craftsman.

The same holds true of the virtues: in our transactions with
15 other men it is by action that some become just and others un-
just, and it is by acting in the face of danger and by developing

the habit of feeling fear or confidence that some become

brave men and others cowards. The same applies to the ap-
petites and feelings of anger: by reacting in one way or in
another to given circumstances some people become self-con-
20 trolled and gentle, and others self-indulgent and short-tem-
pered. In a word, characteristics 4 develop from corresponding
activities. For that reason, we must see to it that our activities
are of a certain kind, since any variations in them will be
reflected in our characteristics. Hence it is no small matter

3 For the meaning of techne ('art'), see Glossary.

4 See Glossary, hexis.
2] BOOK TWO 35

whether one habit or another is inculcated in us from early

childhood; on the contrary, it makes a considerable difference,
or, rather, all the difference. 25

2. Method in the practical sciences

The purpose of the present study is not, as it is in other

inquiries, the attainment of theoretical knowledge: 5 we are
not conducting this inquiry in order to know what virtue is,

but in order to become good, else there would be no advantage

in studying it. For that reason, it becomes necessary to ex-
amine the problem of actions, and to ask how they are to be
performed. For, as we have said, the actions determine what 30
kind of characteristics are developed.
That we must act according to right reason is generally
conceded and may be assumed as the basis of our discussion.
We shall speak about it later 6 and discuss what right reason
is and examine its relation to the other virtues. But let us

first agree that any discussion on matters of action cannot be 1104a

more than an outline and is bound to lack precision; for as
we stated at the outset, 7 one can demand of a discussion only
what the subject matter permits, and there are no fixed data
in matters concerning action and questions of what is bene-
ficial, any more than there are in matters of health. And if

this is true of our general discussion, our treatment of par- 5

ticular problems will be even less precise, since these do not
come under the head of any art which can be transmitted by
precept, but the agent must consider on each different occasion
what the situation demands, just as in medicine and in naviga-
tion. But although such is the kind of discussion in which we 10
are engaged, we must do our best.
First of all, it must be observed that the nature of moral
qualities is such that they are destroyed by defect and by

5 See Glossary, theoria.

6 See VI. 13.
7 See I. 3.
 36 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

excess. We see the same thing happen in the case of strength

and of health, to illustrate, as we must, the invisible by means
15 of visible examples: 8
excess as well as deficiency of physical
exercise destroys our strength, and similarly, too much and
too little food and drink destroys our health; the propor-
tionate amount, however, produces, increases, and preserves it.
The same applies to self-control, courage, and the other
20 virtues: the man who shuns and fears everything and never
stands his ground becomes a coward, whereas a man who
knows no fear at all and goes
meet every danger becomes
to
reckless. Similarly, a man who revels in every pleasure and
abstains from none becomes self-indulgent, while he who
avoids every pleasure like a boor becomes what might be
25 called insensitive. Thus we see that self-control and courage
are destroyed by excess and by deficiency and are preserved by
the mean.
Not only are the same actions which are responsible for
and instrumental in the origin and development of the virtues
also the causes and means of their destruction, but they will
also be manifested in the active exercise of the virtues. We can
30 see the truth of this in the case of other more visible qualities,
e.g., produced by consuming plenty of
strength. Strength is

food and by enduring much hard work, and it is the strong

man who is best able to do these things. The same is also true
of the virtues: by abstaining from pleasures we become self-
controlled, and once we are self-controlled we are best able
35 to abstain from pleasures. So also with courage: by becoming
1104b habituated to despise and to endure terrors we become cou-
rageous, and once we have become courageous we will best
be able to endure terror.

3. Pleasure and pain as the test of virtue

An index to our characteristics is provided by the pleasure

or pain which follows upon the tasks we have achieved. A
This looks like a direct reference to Anaxagoras' statement
8 (frg. B 21a
DK"): "Appearances are a glimpse of the unseen."
3] BOOK TWO 37

man who from bodily pleasures and enjoys doing so

abstains 5

is self-controlled; he finds abstinence troublesome, he is

if

self-indulgent; a man who endures danger with joy, or at

least without pain, is courageous; if he endures it with pain,
he is a coward. For moral excellence is concerned with pleas-
ure and pain; it is pleasure that makes us do base actions and 10

pain that prevents us from doing noble actions. For that

reason, as Plato says, 9 men must be brought up from child-
hood to feel pleasure and pain at the proper things; for this
is correct education.
Furthermore, since the virtues have to do with actions and
emotions, and since pleasure and pain are a consequence of
every emotion and of every action, it follows from this point 15

of view, too, that virtue has to do with pleasure and pain.

This further indicated by the fact that punishment is in-
is

flicted by means of pain. For punishment is a kind of medical

treatment and it is the nature of medical treatments to take
effect through the introduction of the opposite of the disease. 10
Again, as we said just now, 11 every characteristic of the soul
shows its true nature in its relation to and its concern with 20
those factors which naturally make it better or worse. But it
is through pleasures and pains that men are corrupted, i.e.,

through pursuing and avoiding pleasures and pains either

of the wrong kind or at the wrong time or in the wrong
manner, or by going wrong in some other definable respect.
For that reason some people 12 define the virtues as states of
freedom from emotion and of quietude. However, they make
the mistake of using these terms absolutely and without add- 25
ing such qualifications as "in the right manner," "at the right
or wrong time," and so forth. We may, therefore, assume as
the basis of our discussion that virtue, being concerned with
pleasure and pain in the way we have described, makes us

9 See Plato, Republic III. 12, 401e-402a; Laws II. 653a-654d.

10 The idea here evidently is that the pleasure of wrongdoing must be
cured by applying its opposite, i.e., pain.
11 At the end of chap. 2, 1104a27-29.
12 Probably Speusippus is meant here. See p. 12, note 21.
 38 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

act in the best way in matters involving pleasure and pain,

and that vice does the opposite.
The following considerations may further illustrate that
virtue is concerned with pleasure and pain. There are three
30 factors that determine choice and three that determine avoid-
ance: the noble, the beneficial, and the pleasurable, on the one
hand, and on the other their opposites: the base, the harm-
ful, and the painful. Now a good man will go right and a

bad man will go wrong when any of these, and especially when
pleasure is involved. For pleasure is not only common to man
35 and the animals, but also accompanies all objects of choice:
1105a in fact, the noble and the beneficial seem pleasant to us. More-
over, a love of pleasure has grown up with all of us from
infancy. Therefore, this emotion has come to be ingrained in
our lives and is difficult to erase. Even in our actions we use,
to a greater or smaller extent, pleasure and pain as a criterion.
5 For this reason, this entire study is necessarily concerned with
pleasure and pain; for it is not unimportant for our actions
whether we feel joy and pain in the right or the wrong way.
Again, it is harder to fight against pleasure than against
anger, as Heraclitus says; 13 and both virtue and art are always
concerned with what is harder, for success is better when it is

10 hard Thus, for this reason also, every study both

to achieve.
of virtue and of politics must deal with pleasures and pains,
for if a man has the right attitude to them, he will be good;
if the wrong attitude, he will be bad.

We have now established that virtue or excellence is con-

cerned with pleasures and pains; that the actions which pro-
15 duce it also develop it and, if differently performed, destroy
it; and that it actualizes itself fully in those activities to which

it owes its origin.

4. J'irtuous action and virtue

However, the question may be raised what we mean by say-

ing that men become just by performing just actions and
13 Heraclitus, frg. B 85 DK e
: "To fight against anger is hard; for it

buys what it wants at the price of the soul."

4] BOOK TWO 39

self-controlled by practicing self-control. For if they perform

just actions and exercise self-control, they are already jast
and self-controlled, in the same way as they are literate and 20
14
musical if they write correctly and practice music.
But is this objection really valid, even as regards the arts?
No, for it is possible for a man to write a piece correctly -by
chance or at the prompting of another: but he will be literate
only if he produces a piece of writing in a literate way, and
that means doing it in accordance with the skill of literate 25
composition which he has in himself.
Moreover, the factors involved in the arts and in the virtues
are not the same. In the arts, excellence lies in the result it-

self, so that it is sufficient if it is of a certain kind. But in the

case of the virtues an act is not performed justly or with self-

control if the act itself is of a certain kind, but only if in addi- 30

tion the agent has certain characteristics as he performs it:

first of he must know what he is doing; secondly, he

all,

must choose to act the way he does, and he must choose it

for its own sake; and in the third place, the act must spring
from a firm and unchangeable character. With the excep-
tion of knowing what one is about, these considerations do
not enter into the mastery of the arts; for the mastery of 1105b
the virtues, however, knowledge is of little or no impor-
tance, whereas the other two conditions count not for a little
but are all-decisive, since repeated acts of justice and self-
control result in the possession of these virtues. In other
words, acts are called just and self-controlled when they are 5
the kind of acts which a just or self-controlled man would
perform; but the just and self-controlled man is not he who
performs these acts, but he who also performs them in the way
just and self-controlled men do.
Thus our assertion that a man becomes just by performing
just acts and self-controlled by performing acts of self-control 10

M It is difficult to find an exact English equivalent for mousike. For

although the concept includes music, its meaning is wide enough to en-
compass all those artistic and intellectual activities over which the Muses
preside. Accordingly, it ranges from the writing and reciting of poetry to
dancing, astronomy, etc.
 40 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS ^CH.

is correct; without performing them, nobody could even be

on the way to becoming good. Yet most men do not perform
such acts, but bv taking refuge in argument they think that
they are engaged in philosophy and that they will become
good in this way. In so doing, they act like sick men who
15 listen attentively to what the doctor says, but fail to do any
of the things he prescribes. That kind of philosophical activity
will not bring health to the soul any more than this sort of

treatment will produce a healthy body.

5. Virtue defined: the genus

The next point to consider is the definition of virtue or

excellence. As there are three kinds of things found in the
20 soul: (1) emotions. (2) capacities, and (3; characteristics, virtue
must be one of these. By "emotions"' I mean appetite, anger,
fear, confidence, envy, joy, affection, hatred, longing, emula-
tion, pity, and in general anything that is followed by pleasure
or pain: by "capacities" I mean that by virtue of which we are
said to be affected by these emotions, for example, the capacity
25 which enables us to feel anger, pain, or pity;and bv "char-
acteristics" I mean the condition, either good or bad, in which
we are. in relation to the emotions: for example, our condi-
tion in relation to anger is bad, if our anger is too violent
or not violent enough, but if it is moderate, our condition is

good: and similarly with our condition in relation to the other

emotions.
Now and vices cannot be emotions, because we
the virtues
30 are not calledgood or bad on the basis of our emotions, but
on the basis of our virtues and vices. Also, we are neither
praised nor blamed for our emotions: a man does not receive
praise for being frightened or angry, nor blame for being
angry pure and simple, but for being angry in a certain way.
1106a Yet we are praised or blamed for our virtues and vices. Fur-
thermore, no choice is involved when we experience anger or
fear, while the virtues are borne kind of choice or at least
involve choice. Moreover, with regard to our emotions we are
6] BOOK TWO 41

said to be"moved," but with regard to our virtues and vices

we are not said to be "moved" but to be "disposed" in a cer-
tain way.
For the same reason, the virtues cannot be capacities, either,
for we are neither called good or bad nor praised or blamed
simply because we are capable of being affected. Further, our
capacities have been given to us by nature, but we do not
by nature develop into good or bad men. We have discussed 10

this subject before. 15 Thus, if the virtues are neither emotions

nor capacities, the only remaining alternative is that they are
characteristics. 16 So much for the genus of virtue.

6. Virtue defined: the differentia

It is not sufficient, however, merely to define virtue in

general terms as a characteristic: we must also specify what
kind of characteristic it is. It must, then, be remarked that 15
every virtue or excellence (1) renders good the thing itself of
which it is the excellence, and (2) causes it to perform its func-
tion well. For example, the excellence of the eye makes both the
eye and its function good, for good sight is due to the excel-
lence of the eye. Likewise, the excellence of a horse makes it
both good as a horse and good at running, at carrying its 20
rider, and at facing the enemy. Now, if this is true of all
things, the virtue or excellence of man, too, will be a character-
istic which makes him a good man, and which causes him to

perform his own function well. To some extent we have al-

ls See above, chap. 1.

For this peculiar argument, which defines virtue as a characteristic

16

by a process of elimination of alternatives, see the discussion of quality in

Categories 8, 8b25-lla38, where Aristotle distinguishes four types of qual-
ity: (a) characteristic and disposition (b) capacity and
(hexis, diathesis),
incapacity (dynamis, adynamia), (c) and emotion (pathetike
affective quality
poiotts, pathos), and (d) shape and form (schema, morphe). These and
none other are the only possible types of quality, and since (d) shape and
form obviously have nothing to do with the qualities (i.e., virtues) of the
soul, only the first three are dealt with here. For a fuller treatment, see
H. H. Joachim, pp. 81-85. Cf. also Glossary, hexis.
 42 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

ready stated how this will be true; 17 the rest will become
25 clear if we study what the nature of virtue is.

Of every continuous entity that is divisible into parts it is

possible to take the larger, the smaller, or an equal part, and

these parts may be larger, smaller, or equal 18 either in rela-
tion to the entity itself, "equal" part
or in relation to us. The
is something median between excess and deficiency. By the
30 median of an entity I understand a point equidistant from
both extremes, and this point is one and the same for every-
body. By the median relative to us I understand an amount
neither too large nor too small, and this is neither one nor the
same for everybody. To take an example: if ten is many and
two is few, six is taken as the median in relation to the entity,
for it exceeds and is exceeded by the same amount, and is thus
35 the median But the median
in terms of arithmetical proportion.
relative to us cannot be determined in this manner: if ten
1 106b pounds of food is much for a man to eat and two pounds little,
it does not follow that the trainer will prescribe six pounds,
for this may in turn be much or little for him to eat; it may
be little for and much for someone who has just begun
Milo 19

to take up athletics. The same applies to running and wres-

5 tling. Thus we see that an expert in any field avoids excess and

deficiency, but seeks the median and chooses it— not the me-
dian of the object but the median relative to us.
If this, then, is the way in which every science perfects its

work, by looking to the median and by bringing its work up

to that point— and this is the reason why it is usually said of a
10 successful piece of work that it is impossible to detract from
it or to add to it, the implication being that excess and de-

ficiency destroy success while the mean safeguards it (good

craftsmen, we say, look toward this standard in the perform-

I" See above, chap. 2.

I s It is impossible to capture in English the overtone these three words

carry. They can also mean "too large," "too small," and "fair."
Milo of Croton, said to have lived in the second half of the sixth cen-
10

tury B.C.. was a wrestler famous for his remarkable strength.

6] BOOK TWO 43

ance of their work)— and if virtue, like nature, is more precise

and better than any art, we must conclude that virtue aims at 15

the median. I am referring to moral virtue: for it is moral

virtue that is concerned with emotions and actions, and it is
in emotions and actions that excess, deficiency, and the median
are found. Thus we can experience fear, confidence, desire,

and generally any kind of pleasure and pain either

anger, pity,
too much or too little, and in either case not properly. But 20
to experience all this at the right time, toward the right ob-
jects, toward the right people, for the right reason, and in the
right manner— that is the median and the best course, the
course that is a mark of virtue.
Similarly, excess, deficiency, and the median can also be
found in actions. Now virtue is concerned with emotions and
actions; and in emotions and actions excess and deficiency miss 25
the mark, whereas the median is praised and constitutes suc-
cess. But both praise and success are signs of virtue or excel-

lence. Consequently, virtue is a mean in the sense that it aims

at the median. This is corroborated by the fact that there are
many ways of going wrong, but only one way which is right—
for evil belongs to the indeterminate, as the Pythagoreans
imagined, but good to the determinate. This, by the way, is 30
also the reason why the one is easy and the other hard: it is
easy to miss the target but hard to hit it. Here, then, is an
additional proof that excess and deficiency characterize vice,
while the mean characterizes virtue: for "bad men have many
ways, good men but one." 20 35
We may thus conclude that virtue or excellence is a char-
acteristic involving choice, and that it consists in observing
the mean relative to us, a mean which is defined by a rational
principle, such as a man of practical wisdom 21 would use to 1107a
determine it. It is the mean by reference to two vices: the
one of excess and the other of deficiency. It is, moreover, a

20 The author of this verse is unknown.

-*l See Glossary, phronesis. The concept will be discussed more fully in
VI. 5.
 44 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

mean because some vices exceed and others fall short of what
5 is required in emotion and in action, whereas virtue finds
and chooses the median. Hence, in respect of its essence and
the definition of its essential nature virtue is a mean, but in
regard to goodness and excellence it is an extreme.
Not every action nor every emotion admits of a mean. There
are some actions and emotions whose very names connote
10 baseness, e.g., spite, shamelessness, envy; and among actions,
adultery, theft, and murder. These and similar emotions and
actions imply by their very names that they are bad; it is
not their excess nor their deficiency which is called bad. It is,
therefore, impossible ever to do right in performing them: to
15 perform them is always to do wrong. In cases of this sort, let
us say adultery, Tightness and wrongness do not depend on
committing it with the right woman at the right time and in
the right manner, but the mere fact of committing such action
at all is to do wrong. It would be just as absurd to suppose
that there is a mean, an excess, and a deficiency in an unjust
or a cowardly or a self-indulgent act. For if there were, we
20 would have a mean of excess and a mean of deficiency, and an
excess of excess and a deficiency of deficiency. Just as there
cannot be an excess and a deficiency of self-control and cour-
age—because the intermediate is, in a sense, an extreme— so
there cannot be a mean, excess, and deficiency in their respec-
tive opposites: their opposites are wrong regardless of how
25 they are performed; for, in general, there no such thing as
is

the mean of an excess or a deficiency, or the excess and de-

ficiency of a mean.

7. Examples of the mean in particular virtues

However, this general statement is not enough; we must

also show that it fits particular instances. For in a discussion
30 of moral actions, although general statements have a wider
range of application, statements on particular points have
more truth in them: actions are concerned with particulars
7] BOOK TWO 45

and our statements must harmonize with them. Let us now

22
take particular virtues and vices from the following table.
In feelings of fear and confidence courage is the mean. As
for the excesses, there is no name that describes a man who 1107b
exceeds in fearlessness— many virtues and vices have no name;
but a man who exceeds in confidence is reckless, and a man
who exceeds in fear and is deficient in confidence is cowardly.
In regard to pleasures and pains— not all of them and to
a lesser degree in the case of pains— the mean is self-control 5

and the excess self-indulgence. Men deficient in regard to

pleasure are not often found, and there is therefore no name
for them, but let us call them "insensitive."
In giving and taking money, the mean is generosity, the ex-
cess and deficiency are extravagance and stinginess. In these 10

vices excess and deficiency work in opposite ways: an extrava-

gant man exceeds in spending and is deficient in taking, while
a stingy man exceeds in taking and is deficient in spending.
For our present purposes, we may rest content with an out-
line and a summary, but we shall later define these qualities 15

more precisely. 23
There are also some other dispositions in regard to money:
magnificence is a mean (for there is a difference between a
magnificent and a generous man in that the former operates
on a large scale, the latter on a and vulgarity
small); gaudiness
are excesses, and niggardliness a deficiency. These vices differ 20
from the vices opposed to generosity. But we shall postpone
until later a discussion of the way in which they differ. 24
As regards honor and dishonor, the mean is high-minded-
ness, the excess is what we might call vanity, and the deficiency
small-mindedness. The same relation which, as we said, exists
22 Aristotle evidently used a table here to illustrate graphically the vari-

ous virtues and their opposite extremes. Probably the table mentioned
here is the same as the "outline" given in Eudemian Ethics II. 3, 1220b38-
1221al2, where the extremes and the mean are arranged in different
parallel columns.
23 In IV. 1.

24 See IV. 2.
 46 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

between magnificence and generosity, the one being dis'in-

25 guished from the other in that it operates on a small scale,

exists also between h'gh-mindedness and another virtue: as

the former deals with great, so the latter deals with small
honors. For it is possible to desire honor as one should or
more than one should or less than one should: a man who ex-
ceeds in his desires is called ambitious, a man who is deficient
unambitious, but there no name to describe the man in the
is

30 middle. There are likewise no names for the corresponding dis-

positions except for the disposition of an ambitious man which
is called ambition. As a result, the men who occupy the extremes

lay claim to the middle position. We ourselves, in fact, some-

times call the middle person ambitious and sometimes un-
1108a ambitious; sometimes we praise an ambitious and at other
times an unambitious man. The reason why we do that will
be discussed in the sequel; 25 for the present, let us discuss the
rest of the virtues and vices along the lines we have indicated.
In regard to anger also there exists an excess, a deficiency,
5 and a mean. Although there really are no names for them,
we might call the mean gentleness, since we call a man who
occupies the middle position gentle. Of the extremes, let the
man who exceeds be called short-tempered and his vice a short
temper, and the deficient man apathetic and his vice apathy.
There are, further, three other means which have a certain
10 similarity with one another, but differ nonetheless one from
the other. They are all concerned with human relations in
speech and action, but they differ in that one of them is con-
cerned with truth in speech and action and the other two with
pleasantness: (a) amusement and (b) pleasant-
pleasantness in
ness in all our daily life. We
must include these, too, in our
15 discussion, in order to see more clearly that the mean is to
be praised in all things and that the extremes are neither
praiseworthy nor right, but worthy of blame. Here, too, most
of the virtues and vices have no name, but for the sake of
clarity and easier comprehension we must try to coin names
for them, as we did in earlier instances.

23 See 11 08a 16- 19, and IV. 4.

 7] BOOK TWO 47

To come to the point; in regard to truth, let us call the

man in the middle position truthful and the mean truthful- 20
ness. is boastfulness and
Pretense in the form of exaggeration
its possessor boastful, while pretense in the form of under-

statement is self-depreciation and its possessor a self-depreci-

ator. 26
Concerning pleasantness in amusement, the man in the
middle position is witty and his disposition wittiness; the
excess is ca.Med buffoonery and its possessor a buffoon; and the 25
deficient man a kind of boor and the corresponding character-
istic boorishness.
As far as the other kind of pleasantness is concerned, pleas-
antness in our daily life, a man who is as pleasant as he should
be is friendly and the mean is friendliness. A man who exceeds
is called obsequious if he has no particular purpose in being
pleasant, but if he is acting for his own material advantage,
he is a flatterer. And a man who is deficient and unpleasant
in every respect quarrelsome and grouchy kind of person. 27
is a 30
A mean can also be found in our emotional experiences and
in our emotions. Thus, while a sense of shame is not a virtue,
a bashful or modest man is praised. For even in these matters
we speak and of another
of one kind of person as intermediate
as exceeding if he and abashed at everything.
is terror-stricken
On the other hand, a man who is deficient in shame or has
none at all is called shameless, whereas the intermediate man 35
is bashful or modest.
Righteous indignation is the mean between envy and spite, 1108b
all of these being concerned with the pain and pleasure which

we feel in regard to the fortunes of our neighbors. The right-

eously indignant man feels pain when someone prospers un-
deservedly; an envious man exceeds him in that he is pained
when he sees anyone prosper; and a spiteful man is so deficient 5
in feeling pain that he even rejoices (when someone suffers
undeservedly).

26 For an explanation of these qualities, see Glossary, eironeia.

27 The recently discovered play of Menander, the Dyskolos or The
Grouchy <\fan has this kind of person as its central character.
 48 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

But we shall have an opportunity to deal with these mat-

ters we shall discuss justice;
again elsewhere. 28 After that,
since it has more than one meaning, we shall distinguish the
10 two kinds of justice and show in what way each is a mean. 29

8. The relation between the mean and its extremes

There are, then, three kinds of disposition: two are vices

(one marked by excess and one by deficiency), and one, virtue,
the mean. Now, each of these dispositions is, in a sense, op-
posed to both the others: the extremes are opposites to the
middle as well as to one another, and the middle is opposed to
15 the extremes. Just as an equal amount is larger in relation to
a smaller and smaller in relation to a larger amount, so, in
the case both of emotions and of actions, the middle character-
istics exceed in relation to the deficiencies and are deficient in
relation to the excesses. For example, a brave man seems reck-
less in relation to a coward, but in relation to a reckless man

20 he seems cowardly. Similarly, a self-controlled man seems self-

indulgent in relation to an insensitive man and insensitive in
relation to a self-indulgent man, and a generous man extrava-
gant in relation to a stingy man and stingy in relation to an
extravagant man. This is the reason why people at the ex-
tremes each push the man middle over to the other
in the
25 extreme: a coward calls a brave man
reckless and a reckless
man calls a brave man a coward, and similarly with the other
qualities.
However, while these three dispositions are thus opposed
toone another, the extremes are more opposed to one another
than each is to the median; for they are further apart from
one another than each is from the median, just as the large
2S in III. 6 through IV. 9.

29 in Book V. This sentence is followed in the manuscripts by the state-

ment: "We shall deal in a similar fashion with the rational virtues." How-
ever, since the expression "rational virtue" occurs nowhere else in Aris-

totle, and since the treatment given to the intellectual virtues in Book VI
is not at all given "in a similar fashion," it seems best to regard this
sentence as spurious.
9] BOOK TWO 49

is further removed from the small and the small from the
large than either one is from the equal. Moreover, there ap- 30
pears to be a certain similarity between some extremes and
their median, e.g., recklessness resembles courage and extrava-
gance generosity; but there is a very great dissimilarity be-
tween the extremes. But things that are furthest removed frorn^
one another are defined as opposites, and that means that the
further things are removed from one another the more oppo- 35
site they are.
In some cases it is the deficiency and in others the excess 1109a
that is more opposed to the median. For example, it is not the
excess, recklessness, which is more opposed to courage, but
the deficiency, cowardice; while in the case of self-control it is
not the defect, insensitivity, but the excess, self-indulgence
which is more opposite. There are two causes for this. One 5
arises from the nature of the thing itself: when one of the
extremes is closer and more similar to the median, we do not
treat it but rather the other extreme as the opposite of the
median. For instance, since recklessness is believed to be more
similar and closer to courage, and cowardice less similar, it is
cowardice rather than recklessness which we treat as the oppo- 10
site of courage. For what is further removed from the middle

is regarded as being more opposite. So much for the first

cause which arises from the thing itself. The second reason is

found in ourselves: the more we are naturally attracted to

anything, the more opposed to the median does this thing ap-
pear to be. For example, since we are naturally more attracted
to pleasure we incline more easily to self-indulgence than to a 15
disciplined kind of life. We describe as more opposed to the
mean those things toward which our tendency is stronger; and
for that reason the excess, self-indulgence, is more opposed to
self-control than is its corresponding deficiency.

9. How to attain the mean

Our discussion has sufficiently established (1) that moral
virtue is a mean and in what sense it is a mean; (2) that it is 20
 50 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

a mean between two vices, one of which is marked by excess

and the other by deficiency; and (3) that it is a mean in the
sense that it aims at the median in the emotions and in ac-
tions. That is why it is a hard task to be good; in every case it
25 is a task to find the median: for instance, not everyone can
find the middle of a circle, but only a man who has the proper
knowledge. Similarly, anyone can get angry— that is easy— or
can give away money or spend it; but to do all this to the right
person, to the right extent, at the right time, for the right
reason, and in the right way is no longer something easy that
anyone can do. It is for this reason that good conduct is rare,
praiseworthy, and noble.
30 The first concern of a man who aims at the median should,
therefore, be to avoid the extreme which is more opposed to
it, as Calypso advises: "Keep clear your ship of yonder spray

and surf." 30 For one of the two extremes is more in error than
the other, and since it is extremely difficult to hit the mean,
35 we must, as the saying has it, sail in the second best way and
1109b take the lesser evil; and we can best do that in the manner
we have described.
Moreover, we must watch the errors which have the greatest
attraction for us personally. For the natural inclination of one
man differs from that of another, and we each come to recognize
our own by observing the pleasure and pain produced in us
(by the different extremes). We must then draw ourselves away
5 in the opposite direction, for by pulling away from error we
shall reach the middle, as men do when they straighten warped
timber. In every case we must be especially on our guard
against pleasure and what is pleasant, for when it comes to
pleasure we cannot act as unbiased judges. Our attitude to-
10 ward pleasure should be the same as that of the Trojan elders
was toward Helen, and we should repeat on every occasion
30 Homer, Odyssey XII. 219-220. The advice was actually given not by
Calvpso but by Circe (XII. 108-110), and in the lines quoted here Odysseus
is the speaker, relaying the advice to his helmsman. Aris'otle's quotations

from Homer are apparently made from memory, and are rarely exact.
9] BOOK TWO 51

the words they addressed to her. 31 For if we dismiss pleasure

as they dismissed her, we shall make fewer mistakes.
In summary, then, by acting in this way that we shall
it is

best be able to hit the median. But this is no doubt difficult,

especially when particular cases are concerned. For it is not
easy to determine in what manner, with what person, on what 15

occasion, how long a time one ought to be angry.

and for
There are times when we praise those who are deficient in
anger and call them gentle, and other times when we praise
violently angry persons and call them manly. However, we do
not blame a man for slightly deviating from the course of
goodness, whether he strays toward excess or toward deficiency,
but we do blame him if his deviation is great and cannot pass 20
unnoticed. It is not easy to determine by a formula at what
point and for how great a divergence a man deserves blame;
but this difficulty is, after all, true of all objects of sense per-
ception: determinations of this kind depend upon particular
circumstances, and the decision rests with our (moral) sense.
This much, at any rate, is clear: that the median charac-
teristic is in all fields the one that deserves praise, and that it

is sometimes necessary to incline toward the excess and some- 25

times toward the deficiency. For it is in this way that we will
most easily hit upon the median, which is the point of excel-
lence.

31 The reference is to Homer, Iliad III. 156-160, tr. Richmond Latti-

more (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1951):

'Surely there is no blame on Trojans and strong-greaved Achaians

if for long time they suffer hardship for a woman like this one.
Terrible is the likeness of her face to immortal goddesses.
Still, though she be such, let her go away in the ships, lest
she be left behind, a grief to us and our children.'
 BOOK III

1. Actions voluntary and involuntary

30 Virtue or excellence is, as we have seen, concerned with

emotions and actions. When these are voluntary we receive
praise and blame; when involuntary, we are pardoned and
sometimes even pitied. Therefore, it is, I dare say, indispensa-
ble for a student of virtue to differentiate between voluntary
and involuntary actions, and useful also for lawgivers, to help
them in meting out honors and punishments. 1
35 It is of course generally recognized that actions
done under
constraint or due to ignorance are involuntary.
act is done An
1110a under constraint when the initiative or source of motion comes
from without. It is the kind of act in which the agent or the
person acted upon contributes nothing. For example, a wind
might carry a person somewhere (he did not want to go), or
men may do so who have him in their power. But a problem
arises in regard to actions that are done through fear of a
greater evil or for some noble purpose, for instance, if a tyrant
5 were to use a man's parents or children as hostages in ordering
him to commit a base deed, making their survival or death
depend on his compliance or refusal. Are actions of this kind
voluntary or involuntary? A similar problem also arises when
a cargo is jettisoned in a storm. Considering the action itself,

10 nobody would voluntarily throw away property; but when it is

a matter of saving one's own life and that of his fellow pas-

i There is no clear equivalent in English to express hekousion and its

opposite akousion, which form the theme of this chapter. An agent is

described as hekon when he has consented to perform the action which

he is performing. This consent may range from mere passive acquiescence
to intentional and deliberate conduct. The neuter hekousion is used to
denote an action so performed. Conversely, an akon is a man who has
not given his consent to acting the way he does, regardless of whet'ier he
acts unconsciously, inadvertently, or even against his own will, and an
akousion is an action performed by such a man.

52
 BOOK THREE 53

sengers, any sensible man would do so. Actions of this kind

are, then, of a mixed nature, although they come closer to be-
ing voluntary than to being involuntary actions. For they are
desirable at the moment of action; and the end for which an
action is performed depends on the time at which it is done.
Thus the terms "voluntary" and "involuntary" are to be used
with reference to the moment of action. In the cases just men-
tioned, the agent acts voluntarily, because the initiative in 15
moving the body which act as instruments rests
parts of the
with the agent himself; and where the source of motion is
within oneself, it is in one's power to act or not to act. Such
although in themselves they are
actions, then, are voluntary,
perhaps involuntary, since nobody would choose to do any
one of them for its own sake.
(That actions of this kind are considered as voluntary is also
shown by the fact that) sometimes people are even praised for 20
doing them, for example, if they endure shameful or painful
treatment in return for great and noble objectives. If the oppo-
site is the case, reproach is heaped upon them, for only a

worthless man would endure utter disgrace for no good or

reasonable purpose. There are some instances in which such
actions elicit forgiveness rather than praise, for example, when
a man acts improperly under a strain greater than human na- 25
ture can bear and which no one could endure. Yet there are
perhaps also acts which no man can possibly be compelled to
do, but rather than do them he should accept the most terrible
sufferings and death. Thus, the circumstances that compel
Alcmaeon in Euripides' play to kill his own mother are pat-
ently absurd. 2 In making a choice, it is sometimes hard to de-
cide what advantages and disadvantages should be weighed

2 Euripides' play has not come clown to us. According to the myth,
Alcmaeon avenge the death of his father,
killed his mother, Eriphyle, to
Amphiaraus. Amphiaraus, foreknowing through his gift of prophecy that
he would be doomed if he joined the expedition of the Seven against
Thebes, refused to join it until compelled to do so by his wife, who had
been bribed by the gift of a necklace to make him join. An ancient com-
mentator on this passage tells us that Alcmaeon's motive for killing his
mother in Euripides' play was to escape the curse of his father.
 54 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

30 against one another, and what losses we should endure to gain

what we want; but it is even harder to abide by a decision
once it is made. For as a rule, what we look forward to is pain-
ful and what we are forced to do is base. It is because of this
difficulty that praise or blame depends on whether or not a
man successfully resists compulsion.
11 10b What kind of actions can we say, then, are done under con-
straint? To state the matter without qualification, are all ac-
tions done under constraint of which the cause is external and
to which the agent contributes nothing? On the other hand,
actions which are in themselves involuntary, yet chosen under
given circumstances in return for certain benefits and per-
formed on the initiative of the agent— although such actions
are involuntary considered in themselves, they are nonetheless
5 voluntary under the circumstances, and because benefits are
expected in return. In fact, they have a greater resemblance
to voluntary actions. For actions belong among particulars,
and the particular act is here performed voluntarily. But it is

not easy to lay down how, in making a choice, two alter-

rules
natives are to be balanced against one another; there are many
differences in the case of particulars.
(There is a conceivable objection to this definition of "vol-
untary.") Suppose someone were to assert that pleasant and
noble acts are performed under constraint because the pleasant
10 and the noble are external to us and have a compelling power.
But on this view, all actions would be done under constraint:
for every man is motivated by what is pleasant and noble in
everything he does. Furthermore, it is painful to act under
constraint and involuntarily, but the performance of pleasant
and noble acts brings pleasure. Finally, it is absurd to blame
external circumstances rather than oneself for falling an easy
prey to such attractions, and to hold oneself responsible for
15 noble deeds, while pleasure is held responsible for one's base
deeds.
It is one in
appears, thus, that an act done under constraint
which the initiative or source of motion comes from without,
and to which the person compelled contributes nothing.
1] BOOK THREE 55

Turning now to acts due to ignorance, we may say that all

of them are non-voluntary, but they are involuntary only
when they bring sorrow and regret in their train: a man who
has acted due to ignorance and feels no compunction whatso-
ever for what he has done was not a voluntary agent, since he 20
did not know what he was doing, nor yet was he involuntary,
inasmuch as he feels no sorrow. There are, therefore, two dis-
tinct types of acts due to ignorance: a man who regrets what
he has done is considered an involuntary agent, and a man
who does not may be called a non-voluntary agent; for as the
two cases are different, it is better to give each its own name.
There also seems to be a difference between actions due to 25
ignorance and acting in ignorance. A man's action is not con-
sidered to be due to ignorance when he is drunk or angry, but
due to intoxication and anger, although he does not know
what he is doing and is in fact acting in ignorance.
Now every wicked man is in a state of ignorance as to what
he ought to do and what he should refrain from doing, and
it is due to this kind of error that men become unjust and, in

general, immoral. But an act can hardly be called involuntary 30

if the agent is ignorant of what is beneficial. Ignorance in

moral choice does not make an act involuntary— it makes it

wicked; nor does ignorance of the universal, for that invites
reproach; rather, it is ignorance of the particulars 3 which con-
stitute the circumstances and the issues involved in the action.

3 A few remarks ought to be made about the practical syllogism in-

volved in this Reasoning on matters of conduct involves two
passage.
premises, one major and one minor. The major premise is always uni-
versal, e.g., "to remove by stealth another person's property is stealing,"
and the minor premise particular, e.g., "this horse is another person's
property," so that the conclusion would be: "To remove this horse by
stealth is stealing." What Aristotle says here is that ignorance of the
major premise produces an immoral act, while ignorance of the minor
premise produces an involuntary act which may be pitied or pardoned.
Thus it is a moral defect for a man not to know that to remove by stealth
another person's property is stealing. In an involuntary act, on the other
hand, the agent does know the universal premise, but is ignorant of the
particular, i.e., that this horse is the property of another. We shall hear
more about the practical syllogism later, especially in VII. 3.
 56 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

1111a It is on these that pity and pardon depend, for a person who
acts in ignorance of a particular circumstance acts involun-
tarily.

It might, therefore, not be a bad idea to distinguish and

enumerate these circumstances. They are: ignorance of (1) who

the agent is, (2) what he is doing, (3) what thing or person is
affected, and sometimes also (4) the means he is using, e.g..
5 some tool, (5) the result intended by his action, e.g., saving a
life, and (6) the manner in which he acts, e.g., gently or

violently.
Now no one except a madman would be ignorant of all

these factors, nor can he obviously be ignorant of (1) the

agent; for how could a man not know his own identity? But a
person might be ignorant of (2) what he is doing. For example,
he might plead that something slipped out of his mouth, or
that he did not know that he was divulging a secret, as
10 Aeschylus said when he was accused of divulging the Mys-
teries; 4 or again, as a man might do who discharges a cata-
pult, he might allege that it went off accidentally while he
only wanted to show it. Moreover, (3) someone might, like
Merope, mistake a son for an enemy; 5 or (4) he might mistake
a pointed spear for a foil, or a heavy stone for a pumice stone.
Again, (5) someone might, in trying to save a man by giving
him something to drink, in fact kill him; or, (6) as in sparring,
15 a man might intend merely to touch, and actually strike a
blow.
4 The details of this story are preserved only in some late, but ancient,
authors: Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis II. and Aelian, Variae
14. 60,

Historiae V. 19. The Mysteries were a secret form of religious worship

whose doctrines and rites were revealed only to the initiated; Aeschylus
was accused before the Areopagus of having divulged some of the secrets
of the Eleusinian Mysteries. These particular Mysteries, celebrated at
Eleusis in Attica, were administered for the Athenian state by certain
Eleusinian families, and honored Demeter, goddess of corn and patroness
of agriculture, and her daughter Persephone. Aeschylus pleaded that he
had not known the matter was secret and was acquitted.
5 In a lost play of Euripides, Merope was about to slay her son
Cresphontes, believing him to be an enemy. Cf. Poetics 1454a5.
1] BOOK THREE 57

As ignorance is possible with regard to all these factors

which constitute an action, a man who acts in ignorance of any
one of them is considered as acting involuntarily, especially
if he is ignorant of the most important factors. The most im-

portant factors are the thing or person affected by the action

and the result. An action upon this kind of ignorance is called
involuntary, provided that it brings also sorrow and regret in 20
its train.

Since an action is involuntary when it is performed under

constraint or through ignorance, a voluntary action would
seem to be one in which the initiative lies with the agent who
knows the particular circumstances in which the action is per-
formed.
(This implies that acts due to passion and appetite are vol-
untary.) For it is perhaps wrong to call involuntary those acts
which are due to passion andFor on that assumption
appetite. 25
we would, in the first place, deny that animals or even chil-
dren are capable of acting voluntarily. In the second place,
do we perform none of the actions that are motivated by appe-
tite and passion voluntarily? Or do we perform noble acts vol-

untarily and base acts involuntarily? The latter alternative is

ridiculous, since the cause in both cases one and the same.
is

But it is no doubt also absurd to call those things which we

ought to desire "involuntary." For in some cases we should 30
be angry and there are some things for which we should have
an appetite, as for example, health and learning. Moreover,
we think of involuntary actions as painful, while actions that
satisfy our appetite are pleasant. And finally, what difference
is there, as far as involuntariness is concerned, between a
wrong committed after calculation and a wrong committed in
a fit Both are to be avoided; but the irrational
of passion?
emotions are considered no less a part of human beings than 1111b
reasoning is, and hence, the actions of a man which spring
from passion and appetite (are equally a part of him). It
would be absurd, then, to count them as involuntary.
 58 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

2. Choice

After this definition of voluntary and involuntary actions,

our next task is to discuss choice. 6 For choice seems to be very
closely related to virtue and to be a more reliable criterion for
judging character than actions are.
Choice clearly seems to be something voluntary, but it is
not the same as voluntariness; voluntariness is a wider term.
For even children and animals have a share in the voluntary,
but not in choice. Also, we can describe an act done on the
10 spur of themoment as a voluntary act, but not the result of
choice.
It seems to be a mistake to identify choice, as some people
do, 7 with appetite, passion, wish, or some form of opinion.
For choice is not shared by irrational creatures, whereas appe-
titeand passion are. Moreover, the acts of a morally weak
person are accompanied by appetite, but not by choice, while
15 a morally strong 8 person acts from choice, but not from appe-
tite. Also, appetite can be opposed to choice, but not appetite
to appetite. Again, appetite deals with what is pleasant and
painful, while choice deals neither with the pleasant nor with
the painful. The resemblance between choice and passion is

even slighter. For an act due to passion hardly seems to be

based on choice.
Choice is not even the same as wish, although the two seem
20 to be close to one another. For choice does not have the im-
possible as its object, and if anyone were to assert that he
was choosing the impossible, he would be considered a fool.
But wish can be for the impossible, e.g., immortality. 9 Wish
<> See Glossary, proaircsis.
1 We do not know whom Aristotle had in mind.
* On •morally strong' and 'morally weak,' see under sophron in the
Glossary.
9 This statement must not be regarded as a rejection on Aristotle's part
What he is asserting here is merely a reflec-
of a doctrine of immortality.
tion of the common Greek distinction between "mortal" men and "im-
mortal" gods: it is impossible to choose to Live forever, but it is possible
2] BOOK THREE 59

has as its objects also those things which cannot possibly be

attained through our We might, for instance,
own agency.
wish for the victory of a particular actor or a particular ath-
lete. But no one chooses such things, for we choose only what 25
we believe might be attained through our own agency. Fur-
thermore, wish is directed at the end rather than the means,
but choice at the means which are conducive to a given end.
For example, we wish to be healthy and choose the things that
we say that we wish to be happy
will give us health. Similarly,
and describe our wish, but it would not be fitting to
this as
say that we choose to be happy. In general, choice seems to be
concerned with the things that lie within our power. 30
Again, choice cannot be identified with opinion. For opin-
ion may refer to any matter, the eternal and the impossible no
less than things within our power. Also, opinions are charac-
terized by their truth or falsity, not by their moral goodness
or badness, as choices are.
Now, perhaps no one identifies choice with opinion in gen-
eral; but it would not even be correct to identify it with some 1112a
particular opinion. For our character is determined by our
choosing good or not by the opinions we hold. We choose
evil,

to take or avoid agood or an evil, but we hold opinions as to

what a thing is, whom it will benefit, or how: but (the deci-
sion) to take or avoid is by no means an opinion. Also, a 5
choice is praised for being directed to the proper object or for

being correctly made, but opinions are praised for being true.
Moreover, we make a choice of things which we definitely
know to be good, whereas we form opinions about what we do
not quite know. seem that the same people make
Nor does it

the best choices and some hold

also hold the best opinions:
rather good opinions, but because of a moral depravity they 10

do not make the right choice. Whether opinion precedes or

follows choice is immaterial; for we are not concerned with
this problem, but only whether choice is to be identified with
some form of opinion.
to wish it. To a certain extent Aristotle does believe in the possibility of
human immortality, see X. 7, 1177b26ff. and De Anima III. 5. 430a22-25.
 60 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

Since choice, then, is none of the things mentioned, what is

it or what kind of thing? As we have said, it clearly seems to

be something voluntary, but not everything voluntary is the
15 object of choice. Could it be the result of preceding delibera-
tion? (This is probably correct,) for choice involves reason and
thought. The very name "choice" 10 seems to suggest that it is

something "chosen before" other things.

3. Deliberation

(To turn do people deliberate about every-

to deliberation:)
thing? And is everything an object of deliberation? Or are
there some things about which one cannot deliberate? Perhaps
we ought to say that an object of deliberation is what a sensi-
20 ble man would deliberate about, but not a fool or madman.
Now, nobody deliberates about the eternal, such as the order
of the universe or the incommensurability of the diagonal and
the side of the square. Nor, on the other hand, do we deliber-
ate about things that are in motion if they always occur in the
same way, whether by sheer necessity, by nature, or by some
25 other cause: for example, we do not deliberate about solstices
and sunrises. Neither do we deliberate about irregular occur-
rences, such as drought or rain, nor about chance events, such
as the discovery of a treasure. We do not even deliberate about
anything and everything that concerns man: no Spartan de-
liberates about what form of government would be best for
30 the Scythians. For none happen through
of these things can
our agency.
But what we do deliberate about are things that are in our
power and can be realized in action; in fact, these are the only
things that remain to be considered. For in addition to nature,
necessity, and chance, we regard as causal principles intelli-

gence and anything done through human agency. But of

course different groups of people deliberate only about what is
attainable by their own actions. Also, there can be no deliber-
1112b ation in any science that is exact and self-contained, such as
10 Proairesis, literally 'fore-choice' or 'preference.'
3] BOOK THREE 61

writing the letters of the alphabet: we have no differences of

opinion as to how they are to be written. 11 Rather, we deliber-
ate about matters which are done through our own agency,
though not always in the same manner, e.g., about questions
of medicine or of acquiring wealth. We deliberate more about
navigation than about physical training, because navigation is 5

less exact as a discipline. The same principle can also be ap-

plied to the other branches of knowledge. But we deliberate
more about the arts than about the sciences, since we have
more differences of opinion about them. Deliberation, then,
operates in matters that hold good as a general rule, but
whose outcome is unpredictable, and in cases in which an in-
determinate element is involved. When great issues are at
stake, we distrust our own abilities as insufficient to decide 10

the matter and call in others to join us in our deliberations.

We deliberate
not about ends but about the means to attain
ends: no physician deliberates whether he should cure, no
orator whether he should be convincing, no statesman whether
he should establish law and order, nor does any expert delib-
erate about the end of his profession. We take the end for
granted, and then consider in what manner and by what 15
means it can be realized. If it becomes apparent that there is
more than one means by which it can be attained, we look for
the easiest and best; if it can be realized by one means only,
we consider in what manner it can be realized by that means,
and how that means can be achieved in its turn. We continue
that process until we come to the first link in the chain of
causation, which is the last step in order of discovery. For
when a man deliberates, he seems to be seeking something 20

il Aristotle's
meaning here is elucidated by the corresponding passage
in the Eudemian Ethics II. 10, 1226a33-b2, where the difference between
a physician and a writer is taken as the example. In his deliberations, a
physician is liable to two kinds of mistakes: (1) he may adopt the wrong
kind of treatment or (2) he may give the right treatment to the wrong
particular case. In writing,
on the other hand, only the second kind of
mistake is possible: knows how the letters should be
the writer always
written, but he may place a correctly drawn letter where it does not
belong.
 62 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

and to be analyzing his problem in the manner described, as

he would a geometrical figure: the last step in the analysis is

at once the first in constructing the figure. 12 (By the way, it

seems that not all investigation is deliberation— mathematical
investigation is not— though every deliberation is an investiga-
tion.) Moreover, if in the process of investigation we encounter
25 an insurmountable obstacle, for example, if we need money
and none can be procured, we abandon our investigation; but
if it turns out to be possible, we begin to act. By "possible" I

mean those things which can be realized through our own

agency: for even what our friends do for us is, in a way, done
through our own agency, since the initiative is our own. Some-
times the object of our investigation is to find the instruments
we need and sometimes to discover how to use them. The
30 same is true of other matters, too: sometimes we have to find
what the means are, and sometimes how they are to be used or
through whom they can be acquired. To sum up our conclu-
sions: (1) man is the source of his actions; (2) deliberation is

concerned with things attainable by human action; and (3)

actions aim at ends other than themselves. For we cannot de-
liberate about ends but about the means by which ends can be
attained. Nor can we deliberate about particular facts, e.g.,
1113a whether this is a loaf of bread or whether this loaf of bread
has been properly baked: such facts are the object of sense
perception. And if we continue deliberating each point in
turn, we shall have to go on to infinity.

The object of deliberation and the object of choice are iden-

tical, except that the object of choice has already been deter-
mined, since it has been decided upon on the basis of deliber-
5 ation. For every man stops inquiring how he is to act when he
has traced the initiative of action back to himself and to the
12 Aristotle is thinking of the steps followed in constructing a geomet-
rical figure. We assume the completed figure as constructed and then
first

proceed by analysis to see, one by one, what the various steps are by which
it was constructed. These steps reveal the constituent parts of the completed
figure, i.e., the means by which the end— here the figure— is attained. We
thus begin our analysis with the completed figure, but begin our construc-
tion with the last part analyzed.
4] BOOK THREE 63

dominant part of himself: it is this part that exercises choice.

This may be illustrated by the ancient political systems repre-
sented in Homer, where the kings would make a choice and
then proclaim it to the people.
Since, then, the object of choice is something within our
power which we desire as a result of deliberation, we may 10

define choice as a deliberate desire for things that are within

our power: we arrive on the basis of deliberation,
at a decision
and then let the deliberation guide our desire. So much for an
outline of choice, its objects, and the fact that it is concerned
with means rather than ends.

4. Wish

That wish is concerned with the end has already been 15

stated. 13 Now, some people think that its object is the good,
and others think that it is what seems good. 14 Those who
maintain that it is the good are faced with the conclusion that
a man who makes a wrong choice does not really wish what
he wishes: for if it is the object of his wish it must be good,

while in the case in question it is actually bad. On the other

hand, those who assert that the object of wish is what seems
good must conclude that nothing is by nature the object of
wish, but only what seems good to a particular individual. 20
Yet different, and in many instances opposite things seem good
to different individuals.
If these consequences are unacceptable, must we not admit
that in an unqualified sense and from the standpoint of truth
the object of wish is the good, but that for each individual it

is whatever seems good to him? 15 (This distinction solves the

13 In chap. 2 above.

and the Academy are probably the former and some

i* Socrates, Plato

ff., and also Protagoras'

of the Sophists the latter. Cf. Plato, Gorgias 466e
famous dictum that man is the measure of all things as cited in Plato,
Theaetetus 152a.
15 This seemingly trivial sentence is, in fact, one of the most important
in the Ethics. It seems trivial in that it hinges on the double meaning in-
herent in the Greek verbal adjective bouleton (here translated as 'object
 64 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

problem.) Thus, what seems good to a man of high moral

25 standards is truly the object of wish, whereas a worthless man
wishes anything that strikes his fancy. It is the same with
the human body: people whose constitution is good find those
things wholesome which really are so, while other things are
wholesome for invalids, and similarly their opinions will vary
as to what is bitter, sweet, hot, heavy, and so forth. (Just as
a healthy man judges these matters correctly, so in moral
questions) a man whose standards are high judges correctly,
30 and in each case what is truly good will appear to him to be
so. Thus, what is good and pleasant differs with different

characteristics or conditions, and perhaps the chief distinction

of a man of high moral standards is his ability to see the truth
in each particular moral question, since he is, as it were, the
standard and measure for such questions. The common run
of people, however, are misled by pleasure. For though it is
1113b not the good, it seems to be, so that they choose the pleasant
in the belief that it is good and avoid pain thinking that it is

evil.

5. Man as responsible agent

Now, since the end is the object of wish, and since the
means to the end are the objects of deliberation and choice,
it follows that actions concerned with means are based on

choice and are voluntary actions. And the activities in which

the virtues find their expression deal with means. Conse-

of wish'), which means (1) an actual object of wish, something wished as

a matter of fact; and (2) something intrinsically wishable, the true object
of wish as an ethical norm. But behind this linguistic ambiguity lies the
whole question of the factual and the normative in ethical choices. Aris-
totle's solution is to recognize "whatever seems good to a particular in-

dividual" as the factual object of all wishes and choice, but at the same
time to insist upon the existence of a normative object of wish, which is
"by nature the object of wish" and which he defines as the end actually
wished and chosen by the good man. This shows in what sense the man
of high moral standards is for Aristotle the "standard and measure," who
makes the actual and the normative coincide.
5] BOOK THREE 65

quently, virtue or excellence depends on ourselves, and so does

vice. For where it is in our power to act, it is also in our power
not to and where we can say "no," we can also say "yes."
act,

Therefore, if we have the power to act where it is noble to act,

we also have the power not to act where not to act is base;
and conversely, if we have the power not to act where inaction 10

is noble, we also have the power to act where action is base.

But if we have the power to act nobly or basely, and likewise

the power not to act, and if such action or inaction constitutes
our being good and evil, we must conclude that it depends on
us whether we are decent or worthless individuals. The say-
ing, "No one is voluntarily wicked nor involuntarily happy," 15

seems to be partly false and partly true. That no one is in-

voluntarily happy is true, but wickedness is voluntary. If we
do not accept that, we must contradict the conclusions at
which we have just arrived, and must deny that man is the
source and begetter of his actions as a father is of his children.
But if our conclusions are accepted, and if we cannot trace
back our actions to starting points other than those within 20
ourselves, then all actions in which the initiative lies in our-
selves are in our power and are voluntary actions.
These conclusions are corroborated by the judgment of
private individuals and by the practice of lawgivers. They
chastise and punish evildoers, except those who have acted
under constraint or due to some ignorance for which they are
not responsible, but honor those who act nobly; their inten- 25
tion seems to be to encourage the latter and to deter the
former. Yet nobody encourages us to perform what is not
within our power and what is not voluntary: there would be
no point in trying to stop by persuasion a man from feeling
hot, in pain, or hungry, and so forth, because we will go on
feeling these conditions no less for that.
Even ignorance is in itself no protection against punishment 30
if a person is thought to be responsible for his ignorance. For

example, the penalty is twice as high if the offender acted in

a state of drunkenness, because the initiative is his own: he
had the power not to get drunk, and drunkenness was respon-
 66 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

sible for his ignorance. Moreover, punishment is inflicted for

offenses committed in ignorance of such provisions of the
law as the offender ought to have known or might easily have
1114a known. It is also inflicted in other cases in which ignorance

seems to be due to negligence: it was in the offender's power

not to be ignorant, it is argued, and he could have made sure
had he wanted to.
But, it might be objected, carelessness may be part of a
man's character. We counter, however, by asserting that a
man is himself responsible for becoming careless, because he
5 lives in a loose and carefree manner; he is likewise responsible
for being unjust or self-indulgent, he keeps on doing mis-
if

chief or spending his time in drinking and the like. For a

given kind of activity produces a corresponding character.
This is shown by the way in which people train themselves
for any kind of contest or performance: they keep on practic-
ing for it. Thus, only a man who is utterly insensitive can be
10 ignorant of the fact that moral characteristics are formed by
actively engaging in particular actions.
Moreover, it is unreasonable to maintain that a man who
acts unjustly or self-indulgently does not wish to be unjust
or self-indulgent. If a man is not ignorant of what he is doing
when he performs acts which will make him unjust, he will
of course become unjust voluntarily; nor again, can wishing
any more make him stop being unjust and become just than
it can make a sick man healthy. Let us assume the case of a

15 man who becomes ill voluntarily through living a dissolute

life and disobeying doctors' orders. In the beginning, before
he health slip away, he could have avoided becoming
let his

ill:but once you have thrown a stone and let it go, you can no
longer recall it, even though the power to throw it was yours,
for the initiative was within you. Similarly, since an unjust
or a self-indulgent man initially had the possibilty not to be-
20 come unjust or self-indulgent, he has acquired these traits

voluntarily; but once he has acquired them it is no longer

possible for him not to be what he is.

There are some cases inwhich not only the vices of the soul,
but also those of the body are voluntary and are accordingly
5] BOOK THREE 67

Nobody blames a man for being ugly by nature;

criticized.

but we do blame those who become ugly through lack of

exercise and through taking no care of their person. The
same applies to infirmities and physical handicaps: every one 25

would pity rather than reproach a man who was blind by

nature or whose blindness is due to disease or accident, but
all would blame him if it were caused by drunkenness or

some other form of self-indulgence. In other words, those

bodily vices which depend on ourselves are blamed and those
which do not are not blamed. This being so, we may conclude
that other kinds of vice for which we are blamed also depend 30

upon ourselves.
But someone might argue as follows: "All men seek what
appears good to them, but they have no control over how
things appear to them; the end appears different to different 1114b
men." If, we reply, the individual is somehow responsible for
his own characteristics, he is similarly responsible for what
appears to him (to be good). But if he is not so responsible,
no one is responsible for his own wrongdoing, but everyone does
wrong through ignorance of the proper end, since he believes
that his actions will bring him the greatest good. However, the 5
aim we take for the end is not determined by the choice of the
individual himself, but by a natural gift of vision, as it were,
which enables him to make correct judgments and to choose
what is truly good: to be well endowed by nature means to
have this natural gift. For to be well and properly provided
by nature with the greatest and noblest of gifts, a gift which
can be got or learned from no one else, but which is one's
possession in the form in which nature has given it: that is the 10
meaning of being well endowed by nature in the full and
true sense of the word.
But if this theoryis true, how will virtue be any more

voluntary than vice? The end has been determined for, and
appears to, a good man and a bad man alike by nature or
something of that sort; and both will use the end thus de- 15
termined as the standard for any actions they may undertake.
Thus, whether the end that appears (to be good) to a particu-
lar person, whatever it may be, is not simply given to him by
 68 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

nature but is to some extent due to himself; or whether,

though the end is given by nature, virtue is voluntary in the
sense that a man of high moral standards performs the actions
that lead up to the end voluntarily: in either case vice, too, is

bound to be no less voluntary than virtue. For, like the good

20 man, the bad man has the requisite ability to perform actions
through his own agency, even if not to formulate his own
ends. If, then, our assertion is correct, viz., that the virtues
are voluntary because we share in some way the responsibility
for our own characteristics and because the ends we set up
for ourselves are determined by the kind of persons we are,
it follows that the vices, too, are voluntary; for the same is

25 true of them.
To sum up: we have described the virtues in general and
have given an outline of the genus to which they belong, i.e.,
that they are means and that they are characteristics. We have
stated that they spontaneously tend to produce the same kind
owe their existence; that they
of actions as those to which they
are in our power and voluntary; and that they follow the
30 dictates of right reason. However, our actions and our char-
acteristics are not voluntary in the same sense: we are in
control of our actions from beginning to end, insofar as we
know the particular circumstances surrounding them. But we
control only the beginning of our characteristics: the particu-
1115a lar steps in their development are imperceptible, just as they
are in the spread of a disease; yet since the power to behave or
not to behave in a given way was ours in the first place, our
characteristics are voluntary.
Let us resume our discussion of the various virtues: what
are they? With what sort of thing do they deal? And how do
5 they operate? The answer to these questions will also tell us
how many virtues there are.

6. Courage and its sphere of operation

First of all, courage: that it ismean with respect

a to fear
and confidence has already been shown. What we fear is
6] BOOK THREE 69

obviously something fearful, and this is in general something

evil. Hence it is that some people define fear as the expecta-
tion of evil. 16
Now it is true that we fear all evils, e.g., disrepute, poverty, 10

disease, friendlessness, death. But it does not seem that a

courageous man is There are some
concerned with all of these.
evils, such as disrepute, which are proper and right for him

to fear and wrong not to fear: a man who fears disrepute is

decent and has a sense of shame, a man who does not fear it
is shameless. Still, some people describe a man who fears no

disrepute as courageous in a metaphorical sense, for he re- 15

sembles a courageous man in that a courageous man, too, is

fearless. Perhaps one should not fear poverty or disease or

generally any evil that does not spring from vice oris not due

to oneself. However, it is not the man who has no fear of these

things who is courageous. But we call him so because of his
resemblance to the courageous man. For some people who are
cowards on the battlefield are generous and face the loss of 20
money cheerfully. On the other hand, a man is not a coward
if he fears insult to his wife and children, or if he fears envy or

the like; nor is he courageous if he is of good cheer when he

is about to be flogged.

What kind of fearful things, then, are the concern of the

courageous man? No
doubt those of the greatest moment: no
person endures what terrifying more steadfastly than he. Now,
is 25
the most fearful thing of all is death; for it is the end, and once
a man is dead it seems that there is no longer anything good
or evil for him. But it would seem that not even death shows
the courage of a man in all circumstances. For example, death
by drowning or by disease does not. What kind of death, then,
does bring out courage? Doubtless the noblest kind, and that
is death in battle, for in battle a man is faced by the greatest 30
and most noble of dangers. This is corroborated by the honors
which states as well as monarchs bestow upon courage.
Properly speaking, therefore, we might define as courageous
a man who fearlessly faces a noble death and any situations
16 Aristotle is thinking of Plato, Protagoras 358d.
 70 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

that bring a sudden death. Such eventualities are usually

35 brought about by war. But of course a courageous man is
1115b also fearless at sea and in illness, though not in the same way
as sailors are. Because of their experience, the sailors are opti-
mistic, while the courageous man has given up hope of saving
his life but finds the thought of such an (inglorious) death
revolting. Furthermore, circumstances which bring out courage
are those in which a man can show his prowess or where he
5 can die a noble death, neither of which is true of death by
drowning or illness. 17

7. Courage: its nature and its opposites

Now, the same things are not fearful to all people, and
there are some things of which we say that they surpass human
endurance. The latter are fearful at least to every sensible
person.But terrors which are humanly bearable differ in
10 magnitude and degree, and so do the circumstances that in-
spire confidence. Now, the courageous man is dauntless as a
human being. Hence he will fear what is fearful; but he will
endure it in the right way and as reason directs for the sake of
acting nobly: that is the end of virtue. It is of course possible
to fear things to a greater or lesser degree, and also to fear
15 what is not fearful. Errors arise from fearing what one should
not, fearing in the wrong manner, fearing at the wrong time,
and so on, and similarly with events that inspire confidence.
Accordingly, he is courageous who endures and fears the
right things, for the right motive, in the right manner, and
at the right time, and who displays confidence in a similar
20 way. For a courageous man feels and acts according to the
merits of each case and as reason guides him. Now, the end
of every activity corresponds to the characteristic that produces
it. This also applies to a courageous man: courage is noble, 18

17 The preceding seems to be aimed at Plato, who in Laches 191d-e

argues that courage is displayed not only in war but also in the face of
death at sea and by disease.
18 I adopt Ravisow's reading: Kal tw avSpetio hi' rj (8') avSpcla kcl\6v.
7] BOOK THREE 71

and, accordingly, its end is noble, too; for a thing is defined by

its end. Thus it is for a noble end that a courageous man en-
dures and acts as courage demands.
To turn to the types of excess. There is no name for a man
who exceeds in lack of fear. (We have stated earlier that many 25
qualities have no name.) 10 But he must be a madman or
immune to pain if he fears nothing, neither earthquake nor
flood, as they say of the Celts. He who exceeds in confidence
in a fearful situation is called reckless. A reckless man is

usually thought of as boastful and as someone who pretends

to have courage; at any rate, he wants to appear to behave in 30
a fearful situation as a courageous man really behaves. There-
fore he imitateshim whenever the situation enables him to do
so. Hence most reckless men are reckless cowards: they put on
a show of confidence when the situation permits, but do not
stand their ground when there is something to fear.
A man who exceeds in fear is a coward: he fears the wrong
things, in the wrong manner, and so forth, all the way down 35
the list. He is also deficient in confidence; but his excessive 1116a
fear in painful situations is more obvious. A
coward is a
pessimistic sort of fellow, for he fears everything. But a coura 7
geous man is the very opposite, because confidence implies
optimism.
To sum up: a coward, a reckless man, and a courageous
man are all concerned with the same situations, but their 5
attitudes toward them are The former two show
different.
excessand deficiency, while the courageous man keeps to the
median and behaves as he ought. Further, reckless men are
impetuous, and though they are eager before danger comes,
they keep out of it when it is there; courageous men, on the
other hand, are keen in the thick of action but calm before-
hand.
Courage, as we have stated, is a mean concerning matters 10
that inspire confidence and fear, in the situations described.
It chooses and endures what it does because it is noble to do
so or base to refuse. But to seek death as an escape from
19 See II. 7.
 72 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

poverty, love, or some other painful experience is to be a

coward rather than a man of courage. For to run away from
troubles is softness, and such a man does not endure death
15 because it is noble but because he is fleeing from evil.

8. Qualities similar to courage

So much for our discussion of what courage is. However,

there are five further types of character to which this name is

also applied. (1) There is, in the first place, because of its close
resemblance to true courage, the courage of the citizen soldier.
Citizens,it seems, endure dangers because the laws and cus-

toms penalize and stigmatize them if they do not, and honor

them if they do. Hence those peoples are considered the most
20 courageous among whom cowards are held in dishonor and
courageous men in honor. It is this very type of courage which
Homer describes in such characters as Diomedes and Hector:
Polydamas will be first to put a reproach upon me, 20
and:

25 for some day Hektor will say openly before the Trojans:
"The son of Tydeus, running before me. " 21 . . .

This kind of courage bears the closest resemblance to the one

we have described earlier, in that it is motivated by virtue,
that is, by a sense of shame and by the desire for a noble ob-
ject (to wit, honor) and avoidance of reproach as something
base.
30 We
might include under this head also those who are forced
to act by their superiors. They are, however, inferior (to the
previous case) inasmuch as they are prompted not by a sense
of shame but by fear, and because what they try to avoid is not
baseness but pain. Their masters exert compulsion as Hector
does when he says:

20 Homer, Iliad XXII. 100, tr. Richmond Lattimore.

21 Ibid., VIII. 148-149.
8] BOOK THREE 73

But if I shall see any man who cowers and stays out of
battle,
Him nothing shall save to escape from the dogs. 22 35

Field commanders do the selfsame thing when they beat their

troops if the latter retreat, and when they line them up with 1116b
a trench or something of the sort behind them: they all use
compulsion. But courageous action ought to be motivated not
by compulsion, but by the fact that it is noble.
(2) Secondly, experience in facing particular dangers is be-
lieved to be courage. Socrates for this very reason thought
courage was knowledge. 23 Different people exhibit this kind of 5

courage under different circumstances, but in warfare profes-

sional soldiers are especially noted for it. For they have the
best insight into the many false alarms which war seems to
(bring with it). They give the impression of being courageous,
because the others do not know what is happening. Moreover,
their experience enables them to beand in
efficient in attack

defense, for they are capable of using arms and are equipped 10
with the best for offensive as well as defensive purposes. There-
fore, they fight with the advantage armed men have over un-
armed, or trained athletes over amateurs; for in athletic con-
tests it is not the most courageous who are the best fighters,

but the strongest and those who are physically best condi-
tioned. When the strain of danger becomes too great, however, 15
and when they are inferior in men and equipment, profes-
sional soldiers turn cow ards: they are the first to run away,
r

while the citizen militia stand their ground and die, as hap-
pened at the temple of Hermes. 24 For citizens, flight is dis-
22
Although sentiments like these are also expressed by Hector in Iliad
XV. 348-351, the words cited here are closer to, though not identical with,
those spoken by Agamemnon in Iliad II. 391-393. Aristotle is evidently
quoting from memory.
23 See, for example, Plato, Laches 199a-b, though this is by no means

Socrates' final word on the matter.

24 This event took place during the Sacred War in 353 b.c. in the Boeo-

tian city of Coronea. Mercenaries, brought in by the Boeotians to defend

them against the Phocian Onomarchus, turned tail and left the citizen
troops to the mercy of the invader.
 74 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

20 graceful and death preferable to saving one's life on these

terms; but the professionals go to face danger from the very
outset in the belief that they are stronger, and once they real-
ize that they are mistaken they run away, fearing death more
than disgrace. But this sort of thing is not courage.
(3) Thirdly, a spirited temper is classified as courage. When
men, in a fit of temper, become like wild beasts and turn on
25 thosewho have wounded them, they are considered coura-
men are spirited. For nothing makes
geous, because courageous
a man as ready to encounter dangers as a spirited temper.
That is why Homer is full of expressions like: "he put
strength into his spirit" and "he aroused his might and spirit"
and "bitter fierceness welled up through his nostrils" and "his
blood boiled"; 25 for all such expressions seem to describe
30 spirited temper as it is aroused and goes into action. Now,
courageous men act the way they do because it is noble, and a
spirited temper gives them support. But wild beasts are moti-
vated by pain. (They attack only) when they are wounded or
scared, but not (when they are left in peace) in a forest. Thus
they are not courageous, because they are spurred by pain and
35 a roused temper to rush into danger without foreseeing any
of the perils that are in store for them: on this basis even asses
would be courageous when they are hungry, for no beating
1117a can make them budge from their pasture. Adulterers, too, are
prompted by lust to do many daring things. 26
However, the kind of courage that comes from a spirited
temper seems to be the most natural and becomes true courage
5 when choice and purpose are added to it. Moreover, anger
gives men pain and revenge pleasure; and although those who
fight for these motives are good fighters, they are not coura-

25For these phrases, see Homer, Iliad XI. 11; XIV. 151; XVI. 529; V.
470; XV. 232 and 594; and Odyssey XXIV. 318-319. Only the last phrase
is not Homeric, but it can be found in post-Aristotelian literature in
Theocritus, IdyllXX. 15, and may well have appeared in some epic poem
stillknown to Aristotle but lost to us.
26 The best extant manuscript of the Nic. Eth., the Laurentian, does
not contain the next sentence: "Thus we see that courage does not
consist in being spurred into danger by pain and a roused temper."
8] BOOK THREE 75

geous, for it is not the incentive of what is noble that makes

them fight, and they are not guided by reason but by emotion.
However, they have something which closely resembles cour-
age.
Nor are optimists courageous, for they gain their con- 10
(4)
fidence in danger from having won many victories over many
people. They resemble courageous men in
that both are con-
courageous men, however, is inspired
fident; the confidence of
by the motives discussed above, while the confidence of opti-
mists is based upon their belief that they are the strongest and
will suffer no harm. People behave the same way when drunk:
drinking makes them optimists. But when things turn out con- 15

trary to their expectation they run away. On the other hana,

a courageous man, as we have seen, is characterized by the fact
that he endures what is fearful to man and what seems fearful
to him, because to do so is noble and to do otherwise is base.
For that reason it is a mark of even greater courage to be fear-
less and unruffled when suddenly faced with a terrifying situ-

ation than when the danger is clear beforehand. For the reac-
tion is more prone to be due to a characteristic, since it is less 20
dependent on preparation. When we see what is coming we
can make a choice based on calculation and guided by reason,
but when a situation arises suddenly our actions are deter-
mined by our characteristics.
(5) Finally, people who act in ignorance of their danger give
the impression of being courageous. In fact, they are not far
removed from the optimists, but they are inferior in that they
have none of the self-reliance which enables the optimists to
hold their ground for some time. Once the ignorant realize,
however, that the situation is not what they suspected it was, 25
they are deceived and run away. This is what happened to the
Argives when they encountered the Spartans and took them
for Sicyonians. 27

27 In the battle at the Long Walls of Corinth in 392 B.C., the Spartans
had armed themselves with shields captured from the Sicyonians and
defeated the Argives. The event is related in Xenophon, Hellenica IV.
4. 10.
 76 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

So much for a description of the nature of the courageous

man and of those who are believed to be courageous.

9. Courage: its relation to pleasure and pain

Although courage is concerned with feelings of confidence

and of fear, it is not concerned with both to an equal extent,
30 but deals more with situations that inspire fear. For he who
is unruffled in such situations and shows the right attitude to-

ward them is more truly courageous than he who does so in

situations that inspire confidence. In fact, as we have pointed
out,- 8 men are called courageous for enduring pain. Hence
courage is a painful thing and is justly praised, because it is
35 more difficult to endure what is painful than to abstain from
what is pleasant.
1117b Nevertheless, it would seem that the end which courage aims
at is pleasant, obscured though it is by the attendant circum-
stances. Take athletic contests, for example: for boxers the end
is pleasant— the object for which they fight, the wreath and the
honors— though the blows they receive hurt them (since they
5 are made of flesh and blood) and are painful, as is all their

exertion. Since these painful elements are so great in number,

the goal of the fight appears small and devoid of anything
pleasant. If the same thing is also true of courage, death and
wounds will be painful for a courageous man and he will
suffer them unwillingly, but he will endure them because it is
noble to do so or base to do otherwise. And the closer a man
10 is to having virtue or excellence in its entirety and the hap-

pier he is, the more pain will death bring him. Life is more
worth living for such a man than for anyone else, and he
stands to lose the greatest goods, and realizes that fact, and
that is painful. But he is no less courageous for that, and per-
haps rather more so, since he chooses noble deeds in war in re-
turn for suffering pain. Accordingly, only insofar as it attains its

28 This had not been explicitly stated, but is implied by the beginning
of chap. 7.
10] BOOK THREE 77

end is it true to say of every virtue that it is pleasant when 15

practiced.
But perhaps this does not mean to say that men of true
courage make the best professional soldiers. The best profes-
men who have less courage, but have nothing to
sionals are
lose; for they are willing to face dangers and will sell their
lives for a small profit.
So much for our discussion of courage. On the basis of what 20
we have said, it is not difficult to comprehend at least in out-
line what it is.

10. Self-control and its sphere of operation

After courage let us discuss self-control, 29 for these two seem

to be virtues of our irrational part. We have stated earlier that
self-control is a mean in regard to pleasures 30 (for it is con- 25
cerned with pain only to a lesser extent and in a different
way), and self-indulgence, too, manifests itself in the same
situations. Therefore, let us now define with what kind of
pleasures it is concerned.
We must first differentiate between the pleasures of the soul
and the pleasures of the body. Take, for example, the pleas-
ures of fulfilled ambition and love of learning: when the man
who has attained his ambition and the man who loves learning
finds joy in the thing he loves, it is not his body but rather his 30
thought that is affected. Men who indulge in these pleasures
are called neither self-controlled nor self-indulgent. Similarly,
these terms cannot be applied to men who indulge in any
pleasures other than those of the body: we call men who are
fond of hearing and of telling stories and who spend their days
29 Literally translated, the
term sophrosyne means 'soundness of mind,'
and describes the knowledge of one's limitations in a positive as well
full
as a negative sense. In other words, the sophron knows what he is capable
of, as well as what he is incapable of doing. Unfortunately, the transla-

tion 'self-control' is more negative than positive in modern usage; it

should be understood not merely as 'restraint' but also as 'mastery.'

30 See II. 7.
 78 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

35 in trivialities gossipy, but not self-indulgent, nor do we call

1118a self-indulgent those who feel pain at the loss of money or of
friends.
Self-control deals with the pleasures of the body, but not
even with all of these. For people who find delight in visual
objects such as colors, shapes, and pictures are called neither
5 sell-controlled nor self-indulgent; still, even here it does seem
possible to feel delight in the right manner as well as exces-
sively or deficiently. The same is true of the objects of sound:
no one terms those self-indulgent who take an excessive de-
light in music or in the theater, or self-controlled those who
enjoy it in the right manner. Nor do we apply these terms in
connection with the sense of smell, except incidentally: those
10 who like the smell of fruit, roses, or incense we do not call
self-indulgent, but rather those who like the smell of perfume
or fine cooking. For it is in these things that self-indulgent
people take delight, because they remind them of the objects
of their appetite. True, one sees other people, too, finding de-
light in the smell of food when they are hungry, but only the
15 self-indulgent is characterized by the delight he takes in such
things, since to him they are the stimulants of appetite.
Moreover, the lower animals derive no pleasure through these
senses, unless it be incidentally. Dogs do not take delight in
smelling hares but in eating them: the smell only makes them
20 perceive the hare. Nor does a lion enjoy the lowing of an ox but
the devouring: the lowing merely makes him perceive that
the ox is close by, and consequently he seems to enjoy it. In
the same way, it is not the sight of "stag or mountain goat" 31
that gives him joy, but the prospect of a meal.
Thus and self-indulgence are concerned with
self-control
such pleasures as we
share with the other animals, and which
25 therefore appear slavish and bestial. These are the pleasures
of touch and taste. But they evidently involve little or no use
of taste at that: for the function of taste consists in the dis-
crimination of flavors, and that is what wine tasters and chefs
do when they prepare delicacies. Now, these people do not
31 Cited from Homer, Iliad III. 24.
11] BOOK THREE 79

any rate self-indul-

find delight in discriminating flavors— or at
gent people do not— but in the actual enjoyment of them, 30

which comes about exclusively through touch in eating and in

drinking as well as in sexual intercourse. That is why a certain
gourmet prayed for a throat longer than a crane's, implying
that he derived his pleasure from touch. 32 The senses involved
in self-indulgence are those most widely shared by living be- 1118b
ings. It seems that self-indulgence is considered reprehensible
for a good reason, for it inheres in us not as human beings but
as animals. Therefore, it is bestial to delight in such things
and to be inordinately fond of them. As a matter of fact, the
pleasures of touch in which free men most often indulge, such 5

as the massages and warm baths in the gymnasia, form an ex-

ception. For (the pleasure) of the self-indulgent is not (pro-
duced by) the touch of the whole body, but by the touch of
some specific parts.

11. Self-control: its nature and its opposites

There seem to be two kinds of appetite. The first is shared

by all, the second is peculiar to some individuals and is ad-
ventitious. For example, the appetite for nourishment is com-
mon and natural, since everyone who lacks food or
to all 10
drink (or occasionally both) has an appetite for it; and also, as
Homer says, 33 everyone who is young and vigorous has an ap-
petite for sexual intercourse. But when it comes to appetite for
some specific kind of food or sexual relation, not everybody
shares it, nor do all have appetite for the same things. This
appetite, therefore, is evidently more personal. Still, it has
something natural about it; for different people find different
things pleasant, and some things are extraordinarily pleasant
to everyone.
Now in the natural appetites few people go wrong, and that 15
in only one direction, namely excess. For to eat and to drink

32 The reference is to the famous and proverbial gourmand Philoxenus;

cf. Eudemian Ethics III. 2, 1231al5-17.
33 See Homer, Iliad XXIV. 130-131.
 30 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

anything until one is more than full is to exceed the natural

amount, since natural appetite merely means filling a defi-
ciency. For that reason, people who eat too much are called
"belly-gorgers." inasmuch as they fill their stomach beyond
20 what is needed. Men who are all too slavish develop this trait.
On the other hand, in the pleasures peculiar to individuals
many men go wrong and in many ways. For while people are
said to be "partial" to something either because they find de-
light in things they should not, or because they find greater
delight in them than most people do, or because they find
them delightful in the wrong way, the self-indulgent exceed in
25 all three respects: they enjoy some things that they should not,

because they are detestable things, and if there are any such
things that ought to be enjoyed, they enjoy them more than
they should or more than most people do.
It is thus evident that the excess in regard to pleasures is

self-indulgence and that it is reprehensible. But as far as pain

is concerned, there is a difference between self-control and
courage. A man is not called "self-controlled" because he can
30 endure pain or "self-indulgent" because he cannot. He is
called "self-indulgent" for feeling more pain than he should
at not getting his pleasure (so that it is pleasure which makes
him feel pain), and "self-controlled" for not feeling pain at
the absence of or abstinence from his pleasure. A self-indul-
119a gent man has appetite for everything pleasant or for what is

most pleasant, and he is driven by his appetite to choose

pleasant things at the cost of everything else. As a result, he

feels pain both when he fails to what he wants and when

get
he has an appetite for it. His appetite is accompanied by pain,
5 although it seems strange to feel pain because of pleasure.
On the other hand, men deficient in regard to pleasures,
who them than they should, are scarcelv
find less delight in
ever found, for such insensitivityis not human. Even the ani-

mals discriminate between different kinds of food and enjoy

some and not others. If there is someone to whom nothing is

pleasant and who does not differentiate one thing from an-
12] BOOK THREE 81

other, ho must be anything but a man. There is no name for 10

such a creature, since he is scarcely to be found.

A self-controlled man observes the mean in these matters.

He takes no pleasure in what is most pleasant to the self-

indulgent, but rather finds it disgusting; in general, he takes

no pleasure in what he should not, and no excessive pleasure in
touch and taste. He feels neither pain nor appetite, or only
moderately, when he does not have these pleasures: he feels
them no more than he should, nor when he should not, and 15

so forth. But all the pleasant things that contribute to his

health and well-being he desires moderately and in the way he
should, and also other pleasures as long as they are neither
detrimental to health and well-being nor incompatible with
what is noble nor beyond his means. A man who does not ob-
serve these standards loves such pleasures more than they are
worth. But a self-controlled man is of a different sort: he fol- 20
lows right reason.

12. Self-indulgence

Self-indulgence resembles voluntary (action) more than cow-

ardice does. For it is motivated by pleasure, while cowardice
is motivated by pain, and pleasure is something we choose, and

pain something we avoid. Moreover, pain upsets and destroys

the nature of the man who experiences it, but pleasure does
nothing of the kind. Thus, self-indulgence is more voluntary
(than cowardice). For the same reason, it is also more repre-
hensible. In fact, it is easier to habituate oneself to withstand 25
the attractions of pleasure, for life is full of them and habitu-
ation involves no danger; while the opposite is true of fearful
situations.
It would seem, however, that cowardice is more voluntary

than particular cowardly acts. For while cowardice itself is

free from pain, cowardly acts, through the pain they entail, so
upset a man that he throws away his arms and disgraces him- 30
self in other ways. Hence such acts are actually considered
 82 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
as done under constraint. The opposite is true of a self-indul-
gent man. In his case, the particular acts are voluntary, inas-
much as they are done with appetite and desire, while the
general characteristics are less so. No one has the urge to be

self-indulgent.
We apply word "self-indulgence" also to the naughtiness
the
of children, 34 for this bears
some resemblance to the self-indul-
gence we have been discussing. It makes no difference for our
1119b present purposes which of the two senses is derived from the

other, but obviously what comes later in life is named after

what comes earlier. The metaphor seems to be quite good: for
what desires the base and what grows wild needs to be
"checked" or "pruned," 35 and that is, above all, appetite and
5 a child. For, like self-indulgent men, children live as their
appetite directs them, and the desire for pleasure is especially
strong in them. So if appetite and desire do not obey and do
not subject themselves to the ruling element, they will go far
astray.For the desire for pleasure is insatiable in a senseless
creature and knows no bounds, and the active gratification of
appetite will increase the appetite with which we were born,
10 and if the appetites are great and intense, they push aside the
power of reasoning. They should, therefore, be moderate and
few in number, and should never oppose the guidance of rea-
son: that iswhat we mean by "obedient" and "checked." And
just as a child must live as his tutor bids him live, so the appe-
titive element in us must be guided by the bidding of reason.
15 Consequently, the appetitive element of a self-controlled man
must be in harmony with the guidance of reason. For the aim
of both his appetite and his reason is to do what is noble. The
appetite of a self-controlled man is directed at the right ob-
jects, in the right way, and at the right time; and this is what
reason prescribes. So much for our discussion of self-control.

34 Akolasia, which we translate as 'self-indulgence/ literally means

'lack of chastisement.' The word was obviously used to describe naughty
children.
35 Both these ideas inhere in kolazein, the verb negated by akolasia
('self-indulgence').
 BOOK IV

1. Generosity, extravagance, and stinginess

Next in order let us discuss generosity. 1 It seems to be the

mean in the sphere of material goods. A man is praised as
generous neither for what he does on the battlefield, nor in
situations in which a person is praised as self-controlled, nor
again in the making of judicial decisions. He is praised in mat-
ters involving the giving and taking of material goods, more 25
particularly the giving. By "material goods" we understand
everything whose value measured in money.is

There also exists in matters involving material goods extrav-

agance and stinginess as excesses and deficiencies. We attach
the label of stinginess always to those who are more intent on
material goods than they should be; the term "extravagance," 30
on the other hand, is sometimes used with wider implications,
when we call moral weaklings and people who spend their
money in indulging themselves "extravagant." They have so
many vices all at once that they are regarded as the most
worthless of all. But that is not proper usage; for "extrav-
agant" denotes a person who has only one bad quality, namely,
that of wasting his property. A man ruined by his own doing
is a hopeless case 2 indeed; wasting one's property seems to be 1120a
a kind of self-destruction, since property provides the means
for living. This is, therefore, the sense in which we under-
stand 'extravagance."
Things meant be used well and badly, and
for use can
wealth is a useful thing. Now, any
particular object is put to 5
the best use by a man who possesses the virtue proper to that
object. Accordingly, wealth will be put to best use by him who

1 See Glossary, eleutheriotes.

2 It is impossible to reproduce the double-entcndre in asotos in English.
Literally, it means a 'man who preserves nothing,' but Aristotle here
gives it the sense of 'one forwhom there is no preservation.'
83
 84 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

possesses the excellence proper to material goods, and that is the

generous man. Use. we think, consists in spending and giving
material goods, while taking and keeping them is more prop-
erly called "possession." Therefore, a generous man is charac-
10 terized rather by giving to the right people than by taking
from the right and not taking from the wrong sources. For
excellence consists in doing good rather than in having good
done to one, and in performing noble actions rather than in
not performing base ones. It is fairly obvious that giving im-
plies doing good and acting nobly, and that taking implies
15 having good done to one and not acting basely. Furthermore,
we show gratitude to him who gives, not to him who does not
r

take, and, what is more, we praise him. Also, it is easier not

to take than to give, for people are less liable to gi\e away
what belongs to them than not to take what is another's.
Moreover, givers are called "generous," whereas those who do
20 not take are rather praised for their honesty and justice, 3 not
their generosity, and takers are not likely to be praised. Gen-
erous men are perhaps loved more than any other people who
are loved for their excellence, for they are helpful, and their
helpfulness consists in giving.
Virtuous actions are noble and are performed because they
are noble. Accordingly, a generous man, too, will give— and
give in the correct manner— because that is noble. He will give
25 to the right people, the right amount, at the right time, and
do everything else that is implied in correct giving. Moreover,
it will give him pleasure to do so, or (at least) no pain; for to
act in conformity with virtue is pleasant or painless, but cer-
tainly not painful. If he gives to the wrong people or for the
wrong motive, and not because it is noble to give, he will not
be called generous but something else. (The same applies to
30 a man who finds giving) painful. He would prefer material
3These two expressions seem the best to render dikaiosyne in this
context. This virtue, to which Aristotle devotes the whole of Book
V of the Nic. Eth. and Plato the entire Republic, implies more than its
usual English translation 'justice' indicates. It regulates all the relations
within the state, and deals primarily not only with matters that are
settled before a law court.
1] BOOK FOl'R 85

goods to noble action, and that is not what marks a man as

generons. Nor will a generous man take from the wrong

source; that kind of taking is not characteristic of a man who
holds material goods in low esteem. He is not likely to make
requests, either: a person who does good is not one to accept
good turns lightly. But he will take from the right source,
from his own possessions, for example, not because it is noble 1120b
to do so, but because it is necessary in order to have (some-
thing) to give. He will not, however, be careless of his per-
sonal possessions, since he wishes to use them as a means of
helping others. He will not give to anybody and everybody,
so that he may have (something) to give to the right people
at the right time and where it is noble to do so. Still, a gen-
erous man has a strong tendency to go to such excess in giving 5

that he leaves too little for himself; for not to look out for
himself is typical of a generous person.
We speak of generosity relative to a person's property. For
a generous act does not depend on the amount given, but on
the characteristic of the giver, and this makes him give relative
to his property. In other words, it is quite possible that a man
who gives less is more generous, comes from smaller
if his gift 10

resources. Those who have not accumulated their own prop-

erty but have inherited it are thought to be more generous,
not only because they have never experienced want, but also
because everyone has a greater love for what he has produced
himself, as do parents and poets. 4 A generous man does not
easily get rich, inasmuch as he is not a taker or a keeper, but 15

an openhanded spender who values material goods not for

their own sake but for the sake of giving. That is also why
fortune is blamed when the most worthy individuals are the
least wealthy. And not without reason: one cannot have ma-
terial goods or anything else without devoting care to getting
them.
Still, (a generous man) will not give to the wrong people, at 20

4 Precisely the same point is made by Socrates in his conversation with

Cephalus in Plato's Republic I. 330c, in words which suggest Aristotle's
dependence on Plato here.
 86 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

the wrong time, and so forth; for if he did, his actions would
no longer be dictated by generosity, and if he spent his money
on the wrong things, he would have none to spend on the
right ones. For as we have said, a man is generous
spends who
relative to his property and on the he who
right objects;
(spends) to excess is extravagant. Therefore, we do not call
25 tyrants or absolute monarchs extravagant, for, it seems, the
amounts they give and spend cannot very well be in excess of
the amounts they possess.
Now, since generosity is the mean in giving and taking ma-
terial goods, a generous person will give and spend the right
amounts on the right objects, in small and great matters alike,
30 and he will derive pleasure from doing so. Also, he will take
the right amounts from the right sources. For since the virtue
is a mean both in giving and in taking, he will do both in the

proper manner: honest taking goes with honest giving, and

any other kind of taking is contrary to it. Now, the practices
that belong together are found in the same individual, while
contrary practices obviously are not. If he should happen to
1121a spend his money in a manner other than proper and noble,
he will feel pain, but moderately and in the right way; for it is
a mark of virtue or excellence to feel pleasure and pain at the
right objects and in the right way. Moreover, a generous man
is easy to get along with in business matters, for he can be
5 taken advantage of, since he sets no
by material goods
store
and since he feels more vexation at not having made a proper
expenditure, than pain at having made a wrong one; he is not
a man to Simonides' liking. 5
Here, too, an extravagant man goes completely wrong: he
feels neither pleasure nor pain at the right objects and in the
right manner. This will become more apparent as we go on.
10 We have stated 6 that extravagance and stinginess are excesses

5 The poet Simonides (ca. 556-468 B.C.) had a reputation for greed. In
Rhetoric II. 16, 1391a8-12, Aristotle tells the story how Simonides, whin
asked whether was better to be wise or wealthy, replied, "Wealthy, for
it

we see the wise spending their time at the doors of the wealthy."
6 See the beginning of this chapter.
]] BOOK FOUR 87

and two respects, i.e., in giving and in taking,

deficiencies in
for we spending with giving. Extravagance is an ex-
classify
cess in giving without taking, but it falls short in taking.
Stinginess, on the other hand, is a deficiency in giving and
an excess in taking, but only in small matters. 15

Now, these two aspects of extravagance do not usually go

together. For it is not easy for a person to give to all and take
from none. Private individuals soon exhaust their property by
giving, and it is of private individuals that we think (when we
say that a person) is extravagant. 7 Still, a man who is extrava-
gant in both senses is thought to be considerably superior to a
stingy man: age and poverty easily cure him, and he can attain 20
the median state. He has the qualities requisite for a generous
man: he gives and does not take, though he does neither
rightly and well. If he were to acquire this practice by habit or
by changing in some other way, he would be generous: he will
then give to the right people and will not take from the wrong
source. That is why he is not regarded as bad in character, 25
for excess in giving and in not taking marks a man as foolish,
but not as wicked or ignoble. A man who is extravagant in
this fashion seems to be far superior to a stingy person for
the reasons mentioned, and also because he is helpful to many
people, while a stingy man helps nobody, not even himself.
However, most extravagant people, as we have pointed out, 30
also take from the wrong sources and are, in this respect,
stingy. They tend to take because they want to spend, but they
are unable to do so with an open hand, since their own re-
sources are soon exhausted. As a result, they are compelled to
provide means from elsewhere. At the same time, their in-
difference to what is noble makes them take indiscriminately 1121b
from any and every source. They have an appetite for giving,
no matter how or from what source. For that reason, their
gifts are not even generous. Their gifts are not noble, they are
not given because it is noble to give, and they are not given
in the right way. On the contrary, persons of this sort some-
7 As we have seen above, at 1120b25-27, tyrants cannot be regarded as
extravagant.
 88 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

5 times make wealthy those who ought to be poor; they would

give nothing to people of respectable character but much to
those who them or provide them with other kinds of
flatter
pleasure. Hence, most of them are also self-indulgent: they are
easy spenders and squander their money to indulge them-
10 selves. They incline toward pleasure, since their lives are not
oriented toward what is noble.
This is what an extravagant man will develop into if left

unschooled, but if he receives proper care he may attain the

median, the right state. But stinginess is incurable and more
deeply ingrained in men than extravagance, for we can see
that old age and any kind of disability can make men stingy.
15 Most people love to hang on to material goods rather than to
give them away. Moreover, stinginess reaches far and takes
many forms, for there seem to be many kinds of it.
There are two aspects to stinginess: deficiency in giving
and excess in taking. This means that it is not found in its
entirety in all men, but is sometimes divided, so that some
20 exceed in taking while others fall short in giving. Names such
as "miser," "niggard," "penny-pincher," are all used of people
who fall short in giving but do not covet or wish to take what
belongs to another. Some are motivated by a sense of honesty
and have scruples against acting basely— for there are those
25 who seem (or, at any rate, profess) to keep what they have in

order to avoid being compelled to do something base. Here

belongs the skinflint and everyone like him who gets his name
from his excessive reluctance to give anything. Some do not
touch another man's propert; through fear, in the belief that
itis not easy to take what belongs to another while at the

30 same time preventing others From taking what belongs to

oneself. Accordingly, they arc satisfied neither to take nor

to give.
Still others exceed in taking in that they take anything
from any source; such, for example, are those who follow
occupations not fit for free men, such as pimps and all thei

ilk, and usurers who lend small sums at high interest. All
1122a these people take from the wrong sources and more than they
2] BOOK FOUR 89

should. What they have in common is clearly the motive of

profiteering, for they all endure notoriety for the sake of
profit, and small profit at that. But those who take the wrong
things from the wrong source on a large scale, such as tyrants
who sack cities and plunder temples, are not called "stingy" 5

or "mean" but "wicked," "impious," and "unjust." However,

gamblers and highwaymen 8 are classified as stingy and mean,
for they are profiteers in that both ply their trade and endure
notoriety for the sake of profit, the one taking the greatest
risks to get booty, and the other to make a profit at the ex-
pense of his friends to whom he ought to give. Now, since both 10
wish to gain profit from the wrong sources, they are profiteers,
and all such ways of taking are stingy and mean.
It is with good reason that stinginess is said to be the

opposite of generosity. For not only is it a greater evil than

extravagance, but people are more prone to go wrong in fol- 15
lowing it than in following extravagance as we have described
9 So much for generosity
it. and the vices opposed to it.

2. Magnificence, vulgarity, and niggardliness

It seems logical to discuss magnificence 10 next, for it, too,

is evidently a virtue concerned with material goods. However,
unlike generosity, which covers all actions involving material 20
goods, magnificence is confined to those that involve spend-
ing, but in these it surpasses generosity in scale. For, as the
very name suggests, it is a "suitable" expenditure on a "grand"
scale. Now, a scale is relative: the expense of equipping a

8 In view of the "both" in the next sentence, I follow what was ap-
parently Aspasius' reading and omit kcu 6 Agorrrjs, 'and the robber,' from
the translation.
9 For these criteria of determining the opposite extremes, see II. 8,

1109a5-17.
10 'Magnificence' seems to be the closest English equivalent of megalo-
prepeia. Literally, the term means 'greatness befitting (an occasion).' This
virtue involves the kind of public spirit that was exhibited in Athens
by the so-called "liturgies," i.e., the financing of dramatic productions, of
the equipment of warships, etc.
 90 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

trireme is not the same as that of heading a sacred embassy. 11

25 What is suitable is, then, relative to the person, the circum-
stances,and the object. A man who, like the proverbial "to
many a wanderer did I give," 12 spends appropriate amounts
on insignificant or only moderately important occasions is
not called magnificent. But he is if he does so on important
occasions. A magnificent man is generous, but that does not
mean that a generous man is magnificent. The deficiency of
30 this characteristic is called niggardliness and its excess vul-
garity, gaudiness, and the like; it is an excess that does not
consist in too great an amount spent on a proper object, but in
putting on a showy display on the wrong occasions and in the
wrong manner. We shall discuss them later.
A magnificent man is like a skilled artist: he has the ca-
35 pacity to observe what is suitable and to spend large sums
22b with good taste. For as we said at the outset, 13 a character-
istic is defined by its activities and by its objects. Therefore,

the expenses of a magnificent man are great and suitable, and

so are, consequently, the results which he produces. For (only)
in this way will the expenditure be great and suited to the
result. Accordingly, a result must be worth the expense and
5 the expense worth the result or even exceed the result. A
magnificent man will spend amounts of this kind because it is
noble to do so; for this motive is common to all the virtues.
Moreover, he will spend with pleasure and with a free hand, for
exact bookkeeping is niggardly. He will try to find out how
to achieve the most noble and suitable result rather than how
much it will cost him and how it can be done most cheaply.
10 Therefore, a magnificent man will necessarily also be generous.
A generous man, too, will spend the right amount in the right
manner, but in spending the right amount in the right man-
11 A sacred embassy (theoria) was customarily sent out by a Greek
city as an official delegation to attend an important festival of another
city,and especially to represent the city at the Panhellenic festivals. The
head of the embassy would have to defray expenses such as transportation,
the cost of the sacrifices to be offered, etc.
12 Said by Odysseus in Homer, Odyssey XVII. 420.
13 See II. 1 (end) and 2.
2] BOOK FOUR 91

ner— the sphere of generosity— the "grand" of a magnificent

man, 14 his greatness, will come to the fore: at the same ex-
pense he will achieve a more magnificent result. For the excel-
lence of a possession is not the same as the excellence of a
result achieved. The most
valued possession is the most costly, 15

such as gold, but the most valued achievement or result is

one that is great and noble: to look at it will be to admire it,
and what is magnificent is admirable. In other words, the
excellence or virtue of a result achieved, i.e., its magnificence,
consists in greatness.
Magnificence involves expenditures which we call honor-
able, e.g., expenditures on the worship of the gods— votive
offerings, buildings, and sacrifices— and similarly on the vari- 20
ous forms of worshiping the lesser divinities, and on public
enterprises which people ambitiously vie with one another
to undertake, as, for example, when they think they should
equip a chorus or a trireme or give a feast for the city in a
brilliant fashion. But in all these cases, as we have said, 15
we must also take account of who the agent is and what his
resources are, for the expenditure must be
keeping with in 25
that and must be suited not only to the result achieved but
also to the spender. That is why a poor man is unlikely to be
magnificent; for he does not have the means for a suitable
expenditure of large sums. spend large sums),
If he tries (to

he is a fool; for he spends more than he can afford or ought

to spend, whereas virtuous spending is right spending. But
such expenditure is suited to persons who have the requisite 30
means either by dint of their own effort or from their ancestors
or their connections. It is suited to persons of high birth and
reputation, and so forth, since all these qualities carry great-
ness and prestige. Such a man, above all, is magnificent, and,
as we have said, magnificence consists in expenditures of this
kind; for they are the greatest and most honorable. In private 35
affairs, magnificence is shown in those expenditures which are
made only once— e.g., a wedding and the like, and anything of 1123a
14 See p. 89, note 10 on the etymology of megaloprepeia.
is At the beginning of this chapter.
 92 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

interest to the whole city or to eminent people— and also in re-

ceiving and taking leave of foreign guests and in exchanging
gifts. For a man is magnificent not when he spends on him-
self, but when he spends for the common good. There is a
5 similarity between gifts and votive offerings. It is also typical
of a magnificent man to furnish his house commensurate with
his wealth— for it, too, is a kind of ornament— and to prefer
spending his money on works that endure, since they are the
noblest; in each particular case he will spend an amount
suited to the occasion. For the same thing is not fit for both
10 gods and men, and what suits a temple does not suit a tomb.
Now, the greatness of expenditure depends on its kind. The
most magnificent absolutely is great expenditure on a great
object, the most magnificent in a particular case is great
expenditure for that particular object; moreover, greatness
in the result achieved is different from greatness in expendi-
ture. The most beautiful ball or oil flask is magnificent as a
15 gift for a child, though its price is small and far from gener-
ous. From all this it follows that a magnificent man is char-
acterized by achieving his results, of whatever kind they may
be, magnificently— for such results cannot easily be surpassed
—and in a manner worth the expenditure.
Such, then, is the magnificent man. His opposite on the
side of excess is the vulgar man who, as we said, 16 exceeds
20 in spending more money than he should. He spends much
where small expenditures are called for and makes an im-
proper show of himself. He gives a dinner to his club on the
scale of a wedding banquet, and when he defrays the expenses
of a comic chorus, he makes them enter the theater in purple,
as they do at Megara. 17 He will do all kinds of similar things,
25 not for a noble motive, but to show off his wealth, and in the

WAl the beginning of this chapter.

it Since comic choruses were considerably less expensive than those
of tragedy, and since purple was very costly and more appropriate to
tragedv, it would be quite vulgar and inappropriate to make a comic
chorus enter in this way.
3] BOOK FOUR 93

belief that he will be admired for doing so. Where he ought

to spend much money he spends little, and where little he
spends much.
A niggardly person, on the other hand, will fall short in
every respect. After spending tremendous sums, he will for a
trifle spoil the beauty of his achievement. In everything he

does he will hestitate and try to find ways of economizing. He 30

will grumble about spending the little that he does, think-
ing that he is doing everything on a greater scale than he

ought. Accordingly, these characteristics are vices, yet they

do not bring reproach upon a person because they are neither
harmful to one's neighbor nor excessively unseemly.

3. High-mindedness , pettiness, and vanity

High-mindedness, as its very name suggests, 18 seems to be

concerned with great and lofty matters. Let us take the nature 35
of these matters as the first point of our discussion. It makes
no difference whether we investigate the characteristic or the 1123b
man who is characterized by it. A man is regarded as high-
minded when he thinks he deserves great things and actually
deserves them; one who thinks he deserves them but does not
is and no man, insofar as he is virtuous, is either fool-
a fool,
This then is the description of a high-minded
ish or senseless.
man. A person who deserves little and thinks he deserves little 5
is not high-minded, but is a man who knows his limitations. 19

For high-mindedness implies greatness, just as beauty implies

stature in body: small people may have charm and proportion

18 Megalopsychia literally means 'greatness of soul' and was translated

into Latin as magnanimitas, from which English 'magnanimity' is derived.
However, since, as this chapter will show, the connotations of megalo-
psychia are much wider than the modern meaning of 'magnanimity,'
'high-mindedness' seems better suited to rendering the pride and con-
fident self-respect inherent in the concept.
19 The Greek word here is sophron, which this translation usually
renders 'self-controlled' (cf. Glossary). However, in this context Aristotle
seems to have in mind the lower limit of the term.
 94 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

but not beauty. 20 A man who thinks he deserves great things

but does not deserve them though not everybody who
is vain,
overestimates himself One who underestimates him-
is vain.
10 self is small-minded 21 regardless of whether his actual worth

is great or moderate, or whether it is small and he thinks that

it is smaller still. A man of great deserts, it would seem, is

most be small-minded), for what would he do if his

(liable to
deserts were not as great as they are? Thus, measured by the
standard of greatness, the high-minded man is an extreme, but
by the standard of what is right he occupies the median; for
15 his claims correspond to his deserts, whereas the others exceed
or fall short.
Accordingly, if a high-minded man thinks he deserves and
actually does deserve great things, especially the greatest, there
is one matter that will be his major concern. "Deserts" is a
relative term that refers to external goods; and as the great-
est external good, we may posit that which we pay as a
tribute to the gods, for which eminent people strive most,
and which is the prize for the noblest achievements. Honor
20 fits that description, for it is the greatest of external goods.
Consequently, it honor and dishonor that a
is in matters of
high-minded man has the right attitude. It is an obvious fact,
and need not be argued, that the high-minded are concerned
with honor. For they regard themselves as worthy of honor
above all else, but of an honor that they deserve. A small-
minded man falls short both in view of his own deserts and
25 in relation to the claims of a high-minded person, while a vain

20 Aristotle's meaning is clarified by reference to Poetics 7, M50bS5-40

as tr. by G. M. A. Grube, On Poetry and Style, "Library of Liberal Arts,"
No. 68 (New York, 1958): "However, an animal, or indeed anything
which has be beautiful, not only have these parts in the
parts, must, to
right order but must also be of a definite size. Beauty is a matter of
size and order. An extraordinarily small animal would not be beautiful,
nor an extraordinarily large one."
21 Mikropsychia, meaning 'smallness of soul,' is of course diametrically

opposed to 'greatness of soul.' The concept also includes a tone of

false humility.
3] BOOK FOUR 95

man exceeds his own deserts but does not exceed the high-
minded.
This means that the high-minded man, inasmuch as he
deserves what is greatest, is the best. For the deserts of the
better man are always greater, and those of the best man the
greatest. It follows man must be
that a truly high-minded
good. And what is would seem to be the
great in each virtue 30
mark of a high-minded person. It would be quite out of
character for him to run away in battle with arms swinging
or to do wrong to anyone. For what motive does he have to act
basely, he to whom nothing is great? If we were to examine
(his qualities) one by one, we should see the utter absurdity
of thinking of a high-minded man as being anything but
good. If he were base, he would not even deserve honor, for
honor is the prize of excellence and virtue, and it is reserved 35

as a tribute to the good. High-mindedness thus is the crown, 1124a

as it were, of the virtues: it magnifies them and it cannot
exist without them. Therefore, it is hard to be truly high-
minded and, in fact, impossible without goodness and nobil-
ity.22

A high-minded man is, then, primarily concerned with 5

honor and dishonor. From great honors and those that good
men confer upon him he will derive a moderate amount of
pleasure, convinced that he is only getting what is properly
his or even less. For no honor can be worthy of perfect virtue.
Yet he will accept it, because they have no greater tribute to
pay to him. But he will utterly despise honors conferred by
ordinary people and on trivial grounds, for that is not what 10

he deserves. Similarly, he will despise dishonor, for no dishonor

can be justified in his case. A high-minded man, as we have
stated, is concerned primarily with honors. But he will of
course also have a moderate attitude toward wealth, power,
and every manner of good or bad luck that may befall him.
He will not be overjoyed when his luck is good, nor will bad 15

22 Kalokagathia is similar to the ideal of the 'gentleman,' combining

good appearance and manners with moral qualities. See Glossary.
 96 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

luck be very painful to him. For even toward honor, his atti-

tude is that it is not of the greatest moment. Power and wealth

are desirable for the honor they bring; at any rate, those who
have them wish to gain honor through them. But a person
who attaches little importance even to honor will also attach
little importance to power and wealth. As a result, he is re-

garded as haughty.
20 Gifts of fortune, it is believed, also contribute to high-mind-
edness. Men of noble birth, of power, or of wealth are re-
garded as worthy of honor, since they occupy a superior posi-
tion, and whatever is superior in goodness is held in greater
honor. That is why the gifts of fortune make men more high-
minded, for they are honored by some people (for having
25 them). But in truth it is the good man alone that ought to be
honored, though a man who has both excellence and good
fortune is regarded as still more worthy of honor. Whoever
possesses the goods of fortune without possessing excellence or
virtue is not justified in claiming great deserts for himself, nor
is it correct to call him high-minded, for neither is possible
without perfect virtue. Their good fortune notwithstanding,
30 such people become haughty and arrogant, for without virtue
it is not easy to bear the gifts of fortune gracefully. Unable
1124b to bear them and considering themselves superior, they look
down upon others, while they themselves do whatever they
please. They imitate the high-minded man wherever they can,
but they are not really like him. Thus, they look down upon
others, but they do not act in conformity with excellence. A
5 high-minded person is justified in looking down upon others
for he has the right opinion of them, but the common run of
people do so without rhyme or reason.
A high-minded man does not take small risks and, since
there are only a few things which he honors, he is not even
fond of risks. But he will face great risks, and in the midst
of them he will not spare his life, aware that life at any cost
is not worth having. He is the kind of man who will do good,
but who is ashamed to accept a good turn, because the former
10 marks a man as superior, the latter as inferior. Moreover, he
3] BOOK FOUR 97

will requite good with a greater good, for in this way he will
not only repay the original benefactor but put him in his
debt at the same time by making him the recipient of an
added benefit. The high-minded also seem to remember the
good turns they have done, but not those they have received.
For the recipient is inferior to the benefactor, whereas a high-
minded man wishes to be superior. They listen with pleasure
to what good they have done, but with displeasure to what
good they have received. That is apparently why Thetis does 15

not mention the good turns she had done to Zeus, 23 and why
the Spartans did not mention theirs to the Athenians, 24 but
only the good they had received. It is, further, typical of a
high-minded man not to ask for any favors, or only reluc-
tantly, but to offer aid readily. He will show his stature in his
relations with men of eminence and fortune, but will be
unassuming toward those of moderate means. For to be supe-
rior to the former is difficult and dignified, but superiority over 20
the latter is easy. Furthermore, there is nothing ignoble in
asserting one's dignity among the great, but to do so among
the lower classes is just as crude as to assert one's strength
against an invalid. He will not go in for pursuits that the com-
mon people value, nor for those in which the first place belongs
to others. He is slow to act and procrastinates, except when
some great honor or achievement is at stake. His actions are 25
few, but they are great and distinguished. He must be open
in hate and open in love, for to hide one's feelings and to care
more for the opinion of others than for truth is a sign of
timidity. He speaks and acts openly: since he looks down

23 The reference is to Thetis' intercession with Zeus to help avenge

the wrong done her son Achille6 by Agamemnon; see Homer, Iliad I. 504-
510. Actually, Thetis starts by reminding Zeus, "if I have ever helped
you by word or deed among the immortals," but Aristotle is right to
the extent that no specific benefactions are enumerated.
24 An ancient commentator on this passage, citing the Greek History

of Callisthenes (Aristotle's nephew), refers to a Spartan request for

Athenian help against the Thebans in 369 B.C. However, in the account
of the event given in Xenophon, Hellenica VI. 5. 33-31, the Spartans do
mention the good turns they have done.
 98 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

30 upon ethers his speech is free and truthful, except when he

deliberately depreciates himself in addressing the common
run of people. He cannot adjust his life to another, except
1125a a friend, for to do so is slavish. That is, (by the way,) why all

flatterers are servile and people from the lower classes are
He is not given to admiration, for nothing is great to
flatterers.

him. He bears no grudges, for it is not typical of a high-

minded man to have a long memory, especially for wrongs,
5 but rather to overlook them. He is not a gossip, for he will
talk neither about himself nor about others, since he is not
interested hearing himself praised or others run down.
in
Nor again is he given to praise; and for the same reason he
does not speak evil of others, not even of his enemies, except
to scorn them. When he encounters misfortunes that are un-
avoidable or insignificant, he will not lament and ask for help.
10 That kind of attitude belongs to someone who takes such
matters seriously. He is a person who will rather possess
beautiful and profitless objects than objects which are profit-
able and useful, for they mark him more as self-sufficient.
further, we think of a slow gait as characteristic of a high-
minded man, a deep voice, and a deliberate way of speaking.
For a man who takes few things seriously is unlikely to be in
15 a hurry, and a person who regards nothing as great is not
one be excitable. But a shrill voice and a swift gait are
to
due to hurry and excitement.
Such, then, is the high-minded man. A man who falls short
is small-minded, and one who exceeds is vain. Now here, too, 25
these people are not considered to be bad— for they are not
evildoers— but only mistaken. For a small-minded man de-
20 prives himself of the good he seems to be bad
deserves. What
about him is due to the fact that he does not think he deserves
good things and that he does not know himself; if he did, he
would desire what he deserves, especially since it is good.
It is not that such people are regarded as foolish, but rather
(that they are looked upon) as retiring. However, a reputa-
tion of this sort seems to make them even worse. For while

25 I.e., just as in the case of niggardliness and vulgarity.

4] BOOK FOUR 99

any given kind of man strives to get what he deserves, these 25

people keep aloof even from noble actions and pursuits and
from external goods as well, because they consider them-
selves undeserving.
Vain people, on the other hand, are fools and do not know
themselves, and they show it openly. They take in hand
honorable enterprises of which they are not worthy, and
then they are found out. They deck themselves out with
clothes and showy gear and that sort of thing, and wish to 30
publicize what fortune has given them. They talk about their
good fortune in the belief that that will bring them honor.
Small-mindedness is more opposed to high-mindedness than
vanity is, for it occurs more frequently and is worse. Thus,
as we have said, 26 high-mindedness is concerned with high 35
honors.

4. Ambition and lack of ambition as the extremes of a

nameless virtue

There seems be a virtue, also in the sphere of honor,

to 1125b
which, as we stated when we first broached the subject, 27 is
believed to be as closely related to high-mindedness as gener-
osity is to magnificence. Neither this virtue nor generosity
operates on a grand scale, and both give us the proper dis-
position in matters of moderate or small importance. Just as 5
there is a mean, an excess, and a and in
deficiency in taking
giving material goods, so too can we
honor more than
desire
we should and less than we should, and from the right source
and in the right manner. We blame an ambitious man for
striving for honor more than he should and for trying to get
it from the wrong sources; and we blame an unambitious man 10
for deliberately desiring not to be honored even for noble
achievements. However, occasionally we praise the ambitious
as manly and as fond of what is noble and the unambitious
as moderate and self-controlled, as we said when we first dis-

26 See II. 7, 1107b26, and the beginning of this chapter.

27 See II. 7, 1107b24-1108al.
 100 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

cussed the subject. 28 But since "fond" of something is clearly

used in more senses than one, we do not always apply the term
15 "fond of honor" or "ambitious" to the same thing. As a term
of praiseit means "fonder of honor than most people," and

as a term of blame "fonder of honor than one ought to be."

As there is no name for the mean, the extremes dispute for
its possession as for an unclaimed inheritance, as it were. But
where there is excess and deficiency there is also a median.
Men desire honor both more than they should and less; there-
20 fore, it must also be possible to desire it to the right degree.
It is this characteristic which is praised, a nameless character-

istic that constitutes the mean in the sphere of honor. In

comparison with ambition it appears like lack of ambition, in
comparison with lack of ambition like ambition, and in com-
parison with both it somehow looks like both at once. The
same seems to be true also of the other virtues. But in this
case the men at the extremes are seen only in their opposition
25 to one another, because the man who occupies the median
position does not have a name.

5. Gentleness, short temper, and apathy

Gentleness is the mean in feelings of anger. Although there

is no name for the person occupying the median position and
hardly even for the extremes, we apply the term "gentleness"
to the median, despite the fact that it inclines toward the
deficiency, which has no name, either. The excess may be
called something like "short temper." For the emotion is a
30 feeling of anger, 29 which is brought about by many different
factors.
Now, a man is praised for being angry under the right cir-

cumstances and with the right people, and also in the right
manner, at the right time, and for the right length of time.

He may be (termed) gentle, since gentleness is used as a term

28 ibid.
29 It is hard to reproduce the verbal echo in English between orgilotes
('short temper') and orge ('feeling of anger').
5] BOOK FOUR 101

of praise. For being gentle means to be unruffled and not to

be driven by emotion, but to be angry only under such circum-
stances and for as long a time as reason may bid. But he 35
seems to be more prone to going wrong in the direction of 1126a
deficiency: a gentle person is forgiving rather than vindictive.
The deficiency, whether it is a kind of apathy or whatever
else it may be, receives blame. For those who do not show

anger at things that ought to arouse anger are regarded as

fools; so, too, if they do not show anger in the right way, at 5

the right time, or at the right person. Such people seem to

have no feelings, not even for pain; they do not seem to
rise to their own defense, since they do not show anger; but to
let one's own character be smeared and to put up with insults
to those near and dear to him is slavish.
In all these points, excess Anger can be
is also possible.
shown against the wrong persons, under the wrong circum-
stances, to an improper degree, too quickly, and for an unduly 10

long time. Yet these factors are not all found in the same
person. That would be impossible, for evil destroys even itself,
and when it is present in its entirety it becomes unbearable.
Short-tempered people are quick to be angered at the wrong
people, under the wrong circumstances, and more than is
right, but they get over it quickly, and that is their best 15

quality. What happens to them is that they do not restrain

their feeling of anger, but quick as they are they retaliate in an
open way and then have done with it. Choleric people are exces-
sively quick and short-tempered about everything and on every
occasion, hence their name. 30 Sullen people are hard to appease
and their anger lasts for a long time, since they repress their 20
passion. But once they retaliate, they are relieved; for revenge
puts an end to their anger and engenders pleasure in place of
the pain. If that does not happen, they go on carrying their
burden. Since it does not appear on the surface, no one reasons
them out of it, and to digest one's anger in oneself takes time.
Such men are very troublesome to themselves and to their 25

30 Akrocholos is a compound of akro-, 'extreme,' and cholos, 'bile.'

The point is of course that the extreme is excessive.

 102 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

closest friends."Bad-tempered" we call those who show anger

under the wrong circumstances, to an improper degree, and
for too long a time, and those who cannot be reconciled with-
out exacting their revenge or punishment.
We regard the excess as more opposed to gentleness than
the deficiency. In the first place, it is much more common,
30 for it is more human to seek revenge. Secondly, bad-tempered
people are worse to live with.
Our present discussion corroborates the point we made
31
earlier: it is not easy to determine in what manner, with
what person, on what occasion, and for how long a time one
ought to be angry, and at what point right action ends and
35 wrong action begins. We do not blame a man for straying a little
either toward the more or toward the less. Sometimes we
1126b praise those who are deficient in anger and call them gentle,
and sometimes we praise the angry as manly and regard them
as capable of ruling. Therefore, it is not easy to give a formula
how far and in what manner a man may stray before he
deserves blame, for the decision depends on the particular
circumstances and on our (moral) sense. But this much is

5 clear: what deserves praise is the median characteristic that

makes us show anger at the right people, on the right occa-
sions, in the ri^ht manner, and so forth, while the extremes
and deficiencies deserve blame: slight blame for small devia-
tions, more blame for greater deviations, and very severe
blame for verv great deviations. Thus, it is clear that we must
hold fast to the median characteristic. So much for the char-
10 acteristics concerned with feelings of anger.

6. Friendliness, obsequiousness, and grouchiness

In social relations, in living together, and in associating

with our fellow men in conversation and business, there are
people whom we regard as obsequious. They praise you just

to giveyou pleasure, never object to anything, and think that

thev must avoid giving pain to those they meet. Their oppo-
3i See II. 9, 1109bl4-26.
6] BOOK FOUR 103

sites, who object to everything without caring in the least 15

whether they give pain, are called grouchy and quarrelsome.

That the characteristics just described deserve blame is clear
enough, and so is the fact that the middle position between
them deserves praise, i.e., the position of a man who will put
up with— and likewise refuse to put up with— the right things
in the right manner. No name has been given to this char-
acteristic, but it bears the greatest resemblance to friendship. 32 20
For a man who conforms to the intermediate characteristic is
the kind of person we mean when we speak of a "good friend,"
though "friend" also involves affection.
This characteristic differs from friendship in that it in-
volves no emotion or affection for those with whom one as-
sociates. It is not because of his feelings of friendship or
hatred that such a man takes everything the right way, but
because he man he is. His behavior will be the
is the kind of
same toward those he knows and those he does not, toward 25
people with whom he is familiar and people with whom he
is not, except that in each particular case his behavior will be
appropriate to the person. For it is not proper to show the
same consideration to familiar people and to strangers, nor
again to be equally concerned to avoid giving them pain. We
have stated in general terms that his behavior in society will
be as it ought to be. But further, in aiming to avoid giving
pain or to contribute to pleasure, he will act by the standard
of what is noble and beneficial. For his concern seems to be 30
with the pleasures and pains that are found in social relations.
Wherever it is not noble or harmful for him to contribute to
the pleasure of others, he will refuse and will prefer to give
pain (by his refusal); and when an action will bring con-
siderable discredit or harm upon the agent, he will not ac-

*!In II. 7, 1108a27-28, Aristotle actually docs call the mean philia
(•friendship'),which we translate there as 'friendliness.' The difficulty is
that the Greek language uses philia for the human relation of 'friendship'
as well as for the characteristic of 'friendliness' and for the emotion under-
lying it. Although Aristotle uses philia for all these meanings, he evidently
felt uncomfortable about using it for the characteristic and the emotion,

as we see here and further along in this chapter. See also Glossary.
 104 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

35 quiesce in it but refuse, if his own opposition to it will cause

only a small amount of pain. He
behave differently to- will
ward eminent men and toward ordinary people, toward those
1127a he knows well and those he knows less well, and he will
observe other similar distinctions in his behavior, paying the
proper tribute to each. Everything else being equal, he will
choose to contribute to the pleasure of others and scrupu-
lously avoid giving pain. But he will guide his behavior by
considering whether the consequences are of greater moment,
5 by considering what is noble and beneficial. Moreover,
i.e.,

he will inflict small pain in order to gain great pleasure in

the future.
Such is the man in the median position, but there is no
name for him. A man who contributes to the pleasures of
others is he has no ulterior motive and simply
obsequious if

aims at being pleasant. But if his purpose is to gain some

material advantage for himself in the form of money or of
what money can buy, he is a flatterer. A man who refuses to
10 put up with anything is, as we said, grouchy and quarrelsome.
The extremes appear to be only opposed to one another, be-
cause there is no name for the middle.

7. Truthfulness, boastfulness, and self-depreciation

In almost the same sphere, we find the mean— also name-

less—of which boastfulness is an extreme. But it is not a bad
idea to discuss nameless virtues, too, for if we go through
15 them one by one we shall gain a greater knowledge of the
factors involved in character and confirm our belief that the
virtues are means, if our survey shows that this is true in
every instance. 33 Now, we have already discussed 34 those
people who in social life give pleasure and pain to their

33 This is an excellent example of what Aristotle means by 'induction*

{epagdge). Cf. Topics I. 12, 105al3-16: "Induction is the procedure which

leads from particulars to universals, e.g., if the best helmsman and the
best charioteer are those who have knowledge, it is true as a general rule
that in each particular field the best is he who has knowledge."
34 See above, chap. 6.
7] BOOK FOUR 105

fel'ow men. Let us now speak about those who are truthful
and those who are false in speech and action as well as in 20
pretense.
A man who is regarded as boastful pretends to qualities
that carry high prestige, though he does not possess them, or
to greater qualities than he possesses. A self-depreciator, 35 on
the contrary, disclaims or belittles the qualities he possesses,
while the man in the median position is the kind that calls
everything by its proper name. He is truthful in his life and
in his speech; he admits to the qualities he possesses and 25
neither exaggerates nor understates them. Now, each of these
lines of behavior may be pursued with or without an ulterior
motive. When an individual has no ulterior motive, he speaks,
acts, and lives his real character. Falsehood is base in its own

right and deserves blame, but truthfulness is noble and de-

serves praise. In the same way, a truthful man, occupying the 30
median position, deserves praise, while untruthful persons of
either type, but especially the boastful, deserve blame.
Let us discuss them both, starting with the truthful man.
We are not speaking of a man who is truthful in the contracts
he makes or in matters relevant to injustice and justice— for
that would properly belong to another virtue. But we are
speaking of a man who, when no question of this kind is 1127b
involved, is truthful in his speech and in his life simply be-
cause it is part of his character to be that kind of man. Such
a man would seem to be honest. 36 For a man who loves truth
and who is truthful when nothing is at stake will be even more
truthful when something is at stake. He will scrupulously 5

avoid falsehood as being base, especially since he has always

been scrupulous to avoid it when no other considerations

35 'Self-depreciation' is perhaps the least inaccurate rendering of

eirdneia. The best description of the quality is found here: it is the
exact opposite of boastfulness and involves qualities such as under-
statement, pretending ignorance, mock modesty and the like, but some-
times also has overtones of slyness. Self-depreciation, in the form of
feigned was frequently attributed to
ignorance, Socrates (e.g., Plato,
Apology 38a; Republic I. 337a; Symposium 216e).
so See Glossary, epieikes.
 106 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

were involved: such a man deserves praise. He is more in-

clined to understating the truth. That is clearly in better
taste, since exaggeration is obnoxious.
A man who pretends to greater qualities than he possesses
10 with no ulterior motive is a vile sort of person, else he would
not take delight in falsehood; but he is evidently inept rather
than wicked. But if his pretensions have reputation and honor
as an ulterior motive, he does not deserve too much blame
(considering that he is a boaster). But if his motive is money
or something that will get him money, he shows a greater lack
of propriety. It is not the capacity that makes a boaster, but
15 the moral choice. His characteristic and the kind of person
he is mark him as boastful. Similarly, one man is a liar be-
cause he enjoys lying as such, and another because he desires
reputation or profit. Accordingly, people who boast in order to
gain reputation pretend to qualities for which a man is praised
or regarded as happy; while those who boast for profit pre-
tend to qualities which benefit their neighbors or to accom-
plishments which they do not have but can claim to have with-
out (fear of) being detected, e.g., (proficiency as) a soothsayer,
20 a scholar, or a physician. That is why most people indulge in
this kind of pretense and boast, for they do not have the
qualifications just mentioned. 37
Those who depreciate themselves by understatement are
evidently more subtle in character. For, it seems, their speech
is not motivated by profit but by (the concern) to avoid bom-

25 bast. They disclaim especially those qualities which are highly

valued by others, as Socrates used to do. When they disclaim
insignificant and obvious qualities, they are called "humbugs"
and are more contemptible. Sometimes this is obvious boast-
fulness, as for example Spartan dress. 38 In fact, both excess

37 the person who pretends that he can be beneficial and has

i.e.,

certain accomplishments actually is a qualified soothsayer, scholar, or

physician. But he is a quack, and, therefore, not as proficient and as
good as he claims to be, and that makes him boastful.
38 Evidently, Aristotle regards the drab and simple way of dressing,

practiced by the Spartans, as an affectation.

8] BOOK FOUR 107

and exaggerated deficiency tend to be boastful. But people

who make moderate use of self-depreciation and understate 30
such of their own qualities as are not too noticeable and obvi-
ous strike one as cultivated. It is the boastful man who is
evidently the opposite of the truthful man, because he is in-
ferior (to the self-depreciator).

8. Wittiness, buffoonery, and boorishness

Since relaxation is also an essential part of life, and since

it includes spending one's time in amusement, it seems pos-
sible here, too, to display good taste in our social relations
and propriety in what we say and how we say it. The same 1128a
is also true of listening. It will make a difference in what

kind of company we speak and to what kind of company we

listen. Clearly, in this field, too, it is possible to exceed and

fall short of the median.

who exceed in being funny are regarded as buffoons
People
and as crude. They try to be funny at any cost, and their aim 5

is more to raise a laugh than to speak with decorum and

without giving pain to the butt of their jokes. Those who can-
not say anything funny themselves and take offense when
others do are considered to be boorish and dour. Those whose
fun remains in good taste are called "witty," implying quick 10

versatility in their wits. 39 For such sallies are believed to be

movements of the character, and, like bodies, characters too
are judged by the way they move. But one need not go
since
far afield to find something to laugh about, and since most
people enjoy fun and joking more than they should, even
buffoons often pass as cultivated and are called witty. But 15

that there is a difference, and a considerable difference at that,

is clear from our discussion.
Tact is also a quality that belongs to the median character-
istic, and a man is tactful who says and listens to the sort
30 Eutrapelos, 'witty,' means literally 'turning well.' The metaphor is

here explained by reference to eutropos, 'versatile/ a word used ap-

parently to describe bodily nimbleness.
 108 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

of thing that befits an honest and a free man. For there are
some things that are proper for such a man to say and to
20 hear by way of jest. There is a difference between the jesting
of a free and that of a slavish man, and between that of an
educated and of an uneducated person. This difference can
also be seen in old and in modern comedy: for the writers
of old comedy the ridiculous element was obscenity, while
the moderns tend toward innuendo. 40 The difference in pro-
priety between the two is quite considerable. Can we then
25 define a good jester as a man who says nothing that is im-
proper for a free man, or as a man who will not give pain, or
even as one who will give joy, to his listener? Surely that sort
of thing is undefinable, for different things are hateful and
pleasant to different people. (The kind of jokes he will tell

kind of jokes he will hear: for what jokes a

will also be) the
person can endure to listen to also seem to be the jokes he
makes. But he will draw a line somewhere, for a jest at the
30 expense of a person is a kind of slander, and for some things,

lawgivers forbid us to slander people. Perhaps they should

also forbid us to make fun (of some things).
A cultivated and free man, then, will have this kind of
attitude, being, as it were, a law unto himself. Thus he occu-
pies the median position, whether we call him tactful or witty. A
buffoon, however, cannot resist any temptation to be funny,
35 and spares neither himself nor others for a laugh. He says
1128b things that no cultivated man would say, and some that he
would not even listen to. A boor, on the other hand, is use-
less in social relations of this kind. He contributes nothing
and takes offense at everything, despite the fact that relaxa-
tion and amusement are a necessary part of life.
As we have seen, the means we have described are three in
5 number, and all are concerned with human relations in speech
and in action. The difference between them is that one mean
40 The comedy of the fifth century, of which Aristophanes' plays are
our only complete representatives, was considerably rougher and less
inhibited than the rather tame comedy, e.g., of Menander, of Aristotle's
own dav.
9] BOOK FOUR 109

concerns truthfulness and the other two pleasantness. 41 Of the

latter, one is found in amusement and the other in social re-
lations in life in general.

9. Shame and shatnelessness

It is incorrect to speak of a sense of shame as being a virtue 10

or excellence, for it resembles an emotion more than a char-

acteristic.At any rate, it is defined as a kind of fear of dis-
repute, and the effect it produces is very much like that pro-
duced by fear of danger: people blush when they feel ashamed
and turn pale when they fear death. Both these phenomena
are of course in a sense physical, and that is held to be more
typical of emotions than of characteristics. 15

The emotion of shame does not befit every stage of life

but only youth. For we think that young people ought to be

bashful because, living by their emotions as they do, they
often go wrong and then shame inhibits them. We praise
young people who have a sense of shame, but no one would
praise an elderly man we think he ought
for being bashful, for 20
not to do anything that will bring him shame. In fact, shame
is not the mark of a decent man at all, since it is a conse-
quence of base actions. Now, base actions should not be per-
formed, regardless of whether they really are disgraceful or
whether people merely think they are. In either case they
ought not to be performed, and as a result, a man ought not
to be ashamed. But a base man is even characterized by the 25
fact that he is the kind of person who would perform any
disgraceful action. It is absurd for a man to believe himself
actually to be decent because he is the kind of person who
would be ashamed if he performed some such act. For shame
is felt and no decent man will ever
for voluntary actions,
voluntarily do what is base. So it would appear that shame
is conditionally good: a decent man will feel ashamed if he 30
were to act this way; but there is nothing conditional about
41 The three means are those discussed in chaps. 6-8: truthfulness,
friendliness, and wittincss.
 110 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
the virtues. But if shamelessness, i.e., to act basely and not be
ashamed of it, is base, it does not follow that it is decent for
a man to act this way and then feel ashamed of it. For even
moral strength is not a virtue but a mixed kind of character-
35 istic, as we shall show later on. 42 But let us now discuss
justice.

42 See VII. 1-10.

 BOOK V H29a

1. The different kinds of justice; complete justice

In studying justice and injustice, 1 we must examine the

kind of actions with which they are concerned, what kind of
mean justice is, and what the extremes are between which a just
act occupies the median position. In this examination, we 5

shall follow the same system of investigation that we used in

our preceding discussions. 2
We see that all men mean by "justice" that characteristic
which makes them performers of just actions, which makes
them act justly, and which makes them wish what is just. The
same applies to "injustice": it makes people act unjustly and 10

wish what is unjust. Let this general outline serve as our first
basis of discussion. For what is true of the sciences and capa-
cities is not true of characteristics. 3 As is well known, a given

capacity, and also a given science, deals with a pair of oppo-

sites, 4 whereas a given characteristic is not related to anything
that is opposite to itself. Health, for example, does not pro- 15

i A
few remarks about the meaning of dikaiosyne have been made in
iV, 3. Although much of Book V is devoted to a discussion of
note
justice in a narrow, or what Aristotle calls "partial," sense, Aristotle re-
mains ever conscious of the wider connotations of the term: 'justice' is
for him the same as 'righteousness,' 'honesty.' It is, in short, the virtue
which regulates all proper conduct within society, in the relations of
individuals with one another, and to some extent even the proper attitude
of an individual toward himself.
2 The system of investigation (methodos) in the Ethics is that of using
opinions commonly held about a subject as the starting point of the
discussion. See Introduction, pp. xx-xxi.
For these terms, see Glossary, epistSme, dynamis, and hexis.
3
medicine deals with disease as well as health. Aristotle here
4 E.g.,

makes the same point which Plato made, e.g., in Republic I. 333e-334b: if
justice were a capacity or a science, the just man would actually turn
out to be a clever thief.

Ill
 112 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

duce effects opposite to health but only what is healthy: we

say that a man has a healthy gait when he walks as a healthy
man would.
Now, we often gain knowledge of (a) a characteristic by the
opposite characteristic, and (6) of characteristics by those
things in which they are exhibited. In other words, if (a) we
can recognize a sound physical condition, w e can also recog- T

20 nize an unsound physical condition; and (b) a sound condi-

tion can be recognized from things that are in a sound condition
and they from it. If, for example, firmness of flesh constitutes
a sound physical condition, it necessarily follows (a) that an
unsound physical condition consists in flabbiness of the flesh,
and (b) that that which produces a sound physical condition
causes firmness in the flesh. It follows as a general rule, (to
which there are exceptions, however,) that if one term in a
pair of opposites is used in more senses than one, the other
25 term, also, will be used in more than one sense. For example,
if "just" is used in more senses than one, "unjust" will like-

wise have several senses.

Now. justice and injustice seem to be used in more than
one sense, but because their different meanings are verv close
to one another, the ambiguity escapes notice and is less obvi-
ous than it is when the meanings are far apart, as it is, for
example, if there is a great difference in external appearance:
thus the word kleis is used ambiguously both of the "collar-
3( bone" beneath the neck of an animal and of the "key" with
which we lock a door. 3 Let us. then, take the various senses in
which we speak of an "unjust" man. We regard as unjust both
a lawbreaker and also a man who is unfair and takes more
than his share, so that obviously a law-abiding and a fair man
will be just. Consequently, "just" is what is lawful and fair,
1129b and "unjust" is what is unlawful and unfair.
Since an unjust man is one who takes more than his share,
5 If we wanted to give an example of this in English, we might speak.
>f a 'key' that locks a door and a *ke\* in which a piece of music is
1] BOOK FIVE 113

he will be concerned with good things— not all good things,

but only those which are involved in good and bad fortune.
These are things which are always good in an unqualified
sense, but which are not always good for a particular person.
These are the things that men pray for and pursue, although
they ought not to do so. They should rather pray that the 5

things which are good in an unqualified sense may also be

good for them; and they should choose what is good for them.
An unjust man does not always choose the larger share.
When the choice is between things which are without qualifi-
cation bad, he chooses the smaller. However, since the lesser
evil seems in a sense to be good, and since taking a larger
share means taking a larger share of the good, he seems to be
a self-aggrandizer. He is and is
unfair, for "unfair" includes 10

common to both (taking more than one's share of the good

and taking less than one's share of the bad).
Since a lawbreaker is, as we saw, unjust and a law-abiding
man just, it is obvious that everything lawful is in a sense
just. For "lawful" is what the art of legislation has defined
as such, and we call each particular enactment "just." The
laws make pronouncements on every sphere of life, and their
aim is to secure either the common good of all or of the best, 15

or the good of those who hold power either because of their

excellence 6 or on some other basis of this sort. Accordingly,
in one sense we call those things "just" which produce and
preserve happiness for the social and political community.
The law enjoins us to fulfill our function as brave men (e.g.,

not to abandon our post, not to and not to throw away flee, 20
our arms), as self-controlled men (e.g., not to commit adultery
or outrage), as gentle men (e.g., not to strike or defame any-
one), and similarly with the other kinds of virtue and wicked-
ness. It commands some things and forbids others, and it does
so correctly when it is framed correctly, and not so well if 25
it was drawn up in haste.

6 I retain the reading of the majority of manuscripts and do not fol-

low Bywater in bracketing mar aperrji'.
 114 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

Thus, this kind of justice is complete virtue or excellence,

not in an unqualified sense, but in relation to our fellow men.
And for that reason justice is regarded as the highest of all

virtues, more admirable than morning star and evening star, 7

and, as the proverb has it, "In justice every virtue is summed
SO up." 8 It is complete virtue and excellence in the fullest sense,
because it is the practice of complete virtue. It is complete be-
cause he who possesses it can make use of his virtue not only by
himself but also in his relations with his fellow men; for there
are many people who can make use of their virtue in their
own affairs, but who are incapable of using it in their relations

1130a with others. Therefore, the saying of Bias 9

seems to be apt
that "Ruling will show the man," for being a ruler already
implies acting in relation to one's fellow men and within
society. For the very same reason, justice alone of all the
virtues thought to be the good of another, because it is a
is

relation to our fellow men in that it does what is of advantage

5 to others, either to a ruler or to a fellow member of society. 10
Now, the worst man
he who practices wickedness toward
is

himself as well as his friends, but the best man is not one who
practices virtue toward himself, but who practices it toward
others, for that is a hard thing to achieve. Justice in this sense,
then, is not a part of virtue but the whole of excellence or
10 virtue, and the injustice opposed to it is not part of vice but
the whole of vice. The difference between virtue and justice
in this sense is clear from what we have said. They are the
same thing, but what they are (in terms of their definition) is
7 According to a scholiast, this is a quotation from Euripides' lost play
Melanippe.
8 Quoted with from Theognis, line 147.
a slight variation
9 Bias of Priene, who
about the middle of the sixth century B.C.,
lived
was one of the Seven Wise Men of Greece, a traditional group (some
members varying) of statesmen and philosophers renowned for practical
wisdom.
10 One
of Thrasymachus' contentions in Plato's Republic I. 343c is that
and the just are what is of advantage to another, viz., the ruler,
justice
but what brings harm to oneself.
 2] BOOK FIVE 115

not the same: n insofar as it is exhibited in relation to others

it is justice, but insofar as it is simply a characteristic of this

kind it is virtue.

2. Partial justice: just action as distribution and as

rectification

What we are investigating, however, is justice as a part of

virtue; for, we assert, there is such a thing is justice in this

sense, as there is also injustice in this partial sense. 15

An indication of its existence kind is this: in every other

of wickedness, the man who practices it does wrong without
getting a larger share, if, for example, he throws away his
shield through cowardice or slanders another in a bad temper
or refuses to give financial assistance because of his stinginess.
But when he does get too large a share, it is frequently not in
terms of any of these vices, nor even in terms of all of them, 20
but it certainly is in terms of some sort of baseness— for we
blame him— and in terms of injustice. There exists, conse-
quently, some other kind of injustice as a part of the injustice
that comprises the whole of vice, and there is a sense in which
we speak of "unjust" to express part of the unjust in the
wider sense of "contrary to the law." Moreover, if one man
commits adultery and makes money on it, while
for profit
another does it at the prompting of appetite and spends and 25
thus loses money on it, the latter would seem to be self-in-
dulgent rather than grasping for a larger share, while the
former is unjust but not self-indulgent, and obviously so be-
cause he makes a profit by it. Further, we usually ascribe all
other offenses to some particular wickedness, e.g., adultery to
self-indulgence, deserting a comrade-in-arms to cowardice, and 30

11 From J. A. Stewart, Notes on the Nicomachean Ethics (Oxford, 1892),

Vol. I, p. 401: Virtue and universal justice, then, being the same state
conceived from different points of view, virtue is the state conceived
simply as a state; justice is the state conceived as putting its possessor in
a certain relation to society.
 116 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

assault to anger; but making unjust profit is not ascribed to

any wickedness other than injustice.
It is, therefore, apparent that there exists, apart from the
injustice that comprises the whole of vice, another partial
kind of injustice which shares the name and nature of the
first in that its definition falls within the same genus. The

1130b capacity of both is revealed in our relations with others, but

while the sphere of the former is everything that is the con-
cern of a morally good man, the latter deals with honor,
material goods, security, or whatever single term we can find
to express all these collectively, and its motive is the pleasure
5 that comes from profit.
It is, accordingly, clear that there is more than one kind
of justice, and from that
that there exists a justice distinct
which comprises the whole of virtue. We must now take up
the problem of what it is and what qualities it has.
We drew a distinction between unjust in the sense of "un-
lawful" and in the sense of "unfair," and between just in the
sense of "lawful" and in the sense of "fair." Now, the in-
10 justice we discussed above corresponds to the sense of "un-
lawful." But "unfair" and "unlawful" are not identical but
distinct and related to one another as the part is related to the
whole; for everything unfair is unlawful, but not everything
unlawful is unfair. Therefore, the unjust and injustice in the
partial sense, too, are distinct from the unjust and injustice
in the complete sense; for the partial kind of injustice is part
15 of complete injustice, and similarly partial justice is part of
complete justice. We must, accordingly, discuss partial justice
and partial injustice, and also the just and the unjust in the
partial sense.
So let us dismiss that justice which is coextensive with
the whole of virtue as well as its corresponding injustice, as
the one consists in the exercise of the whole of virtue in our
relations with our fellow men and the other in the exercise
20 of the whole of vice. Likewise, it is clear how we must de-
termine the terms "just" and "unjust" which correspond to
2] BOOK FIVE 117

them. For the great majority of lawful acts are ordinances

which are based on virtue as a whole: the law commands to
live in conformity with every virtue and forbids to live in
conformity with any wickedness. What produces virtue entire
are those lawful measures which are enacted for education in 25
citizenship. We
must determine later 12 whether the education
of the individual as such, which makes a person good simply
as a man, is part of politics or of some other science. For being
a good man is perhaps not the same as being a good citizen of
some particular kind of state, whatever it may be.
One form of partial justice and of what is just in this sense 30
is found in the distribution of honors, of material goods, or of

anything else that can be divided among those who have a

share in the political system. For in these matters it is possible
for a man to have a share equal or unequal 13 to that of his
neighbor. A second kind of just action in the partial sense
has a rectifying function in private transactions, and it is 1131a
divided into two parts: (a) voluntary and (b) involuntary
transactions. 14 (a) Voluntary transactions are, for example, sale,
purchase, lending at interest, giving security, lending without
interest, depositing in trust, and letting for hire. They are
called "voluntary" because the initiative in these transactions 5

is voluntary, (b) Some involuntary transactions are clandestine,

e.g., theft, adultery, poisoning, procuring, enticement of slaves,
assassination,and bearing false witness; while others happen
under constraint, e.g., assault, imprisonment, murder, violent
robbery, maiming, defamation, and character-smearing.

12 See X. 9. The problem is also discussed in Politics III. 4; 5; 18; VII.

14; and VIII. 1.

13 The terms isos and anisos, translated by 'equal' and 'unequal' here,
have a much wider sense than their English equivalents. They are, in
fact, the same terms that we translated as 'fair' and 'unfair' above; and
it is for this reason that 'unfair' ('unequal') has as its natural synonym
pleonektes, 'having more than one's share.'
n See p. 52, note 1, for the meaning of these terms: a voluntary trans-
action is one undertaken with the consent of both parties involved; in an
involuntary transaction the consent is only unilateral.
 118 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

3. Just action as fairness in distribution

10 man and an unjust act are unfair or unequal,

Since an unjust
obvious that there exists also a median term between the
it is

two extremes of inequality. This is the fair or equal. For any

action that admits of a more and a less also admits of an equal.
Now if unequal, the just must be equal; and that
the unjust is

is, in fact, what everyone believes without argument. 15 Since

the equal is a median, the just, too, will be a median. Now the
15 equal involves at least two terms. 16 Accordingly, the just is

necessarily both median and equal, and it is relative, and (it

is just) for certain individuals. Inasmuch as it is median, it

must be median between some extremes, i.e., between the

more and the less; inasmuch as it is equal, it involves two
shares that are equal; and inasmuch as it is just, it must be
just for certain parties. Consequently, the just involves at least
20 four terms: there are two persons in whose eyes it is just, and
the shares which are just are two.
Also, there will be the same equality between the persons
and the shares: the ratio between the shares will be the
same as that between the persons. 17 If the persons are not
equal, their (just) shares will not be equal; but this is the
source of quarrels and recriminations, when equals have and
are awarded unequal shares or unequals equal shares. The
truth of this is further illustrated by the principle "To each
25 according to his deserts." Everyone agrees that in distributions
the just share must be given on the basis of what one deserves,

15 See p. 117, note 13.

16 I.e., we can speak of equality only if a thing is equal to something
else.
l" Stewart's note on this passage (Notes on the Nicomachean Ethics,
Vol. I, p. 421) is illuminating: "... if the persons, as comparable [par-
ticipants] of the same social system, are absolutely equal, their shares
will be also absolutely equal: if they are not absolutely equal, but stand
in a certain definite ratio of superiority and inferiority, their jhares
will also stand in the same ratio."
3] BOOK FIVE 119

though not everyone would name the same criterion of deserv-

ing:democrats say it is free birth, oligarchs that it is wealth
or noble birth, and aristocrats that it is excellence.
Consequently, the justsomething proportionate, for pro- is

portion is not only applicable to abstract number, but also 30

to number in a generalized sense. Proportion is equality of
ratios and involves at least four terms. That a "discrete pro-
portion" 18 involves four terms is obvious; but the same is

also true of a "continuous proportion," for it uses one term

as though it were two and mentions it twice, e.g., line x : line 1131b
y = line y line z. Here line y is mentioned twice, so that there
:

will be four proportionate terms if line y is taken twice. The

just, too, involves at least four terms, and the ratio (between
the terms of one pair) is equal (to that between the terms of
the other), for the persons and things are similarly distributed. 5

Therefore, A B-c : : d and, by alternation, A c-B: : d. 19 It

also follows that one whole, (i.e., person plus share,) will stand
in the same ratio to the other (whole, as person stands to per-
son). 20 This is the union of terms that distribution (of honors,
wealth, etc.) brings about, and if it is effected in this manner,
the union is just. Consequently, the combination of term
(person) A with term (share) c and of term (person) B with
term (share) d in the distribution is just, and this kind of the 10
just is median while the corresponding unjust violates the
proportion. 21 For the proportional is median, and the just
is proportional. Mathematicians call this kind of proportion

18 E.g., a\b = c:d. "Continuous proportion," in Aristotle's sense of the

word, is explained below. In modern mathematics, this kind of proportion
is treated merely as a special case of what Aristotle calls a "discrete pro-
portion." One might add and continuous, as
that both terms, discrete
used in present-day mathematics, have a totally different meaning un-
related to the problems of proportion.
19 For the sake of clarity, I use capital letters for the persons and small
letters for the things.
20 i.e., (A + c) : (B + d) = A : B.
21 In other words, just distribution matches the right person with
the right share.
 120 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

"geometrical," since in geometrical proportion one whole is

to the other as either part is to its corresponding part. 22 But

15 (the just) is not a continuous proportion, for in fact the person
and his share cannot coincide in one single term.
The just, then, in this sense is the proportional, and the
unjust is what violates the proportion. Consequently, the un-
just admits of a more and a less, and what takes place
this is

in actual fact: a man who acts unjustly has more than his
share of good, and a man who is treated unjustly has less. The
20 reverse is true in the case of evil: for in relation to a greater
evil the lesser evil counts as a good, since the lesser evil is more
desirable than the greater, and since what is desirable is good
and what is more desirable is a greater good. This, then, is

one kind of what is just.

4. Just action as rectification

25 The one remaining form of what is just is the rectifying kind,

which we find in transactions both voluntary and involuntary.
The just in this sense is different in kind from the former.
What is just in the distribution of common goods (such as
honor and wealth) always follows the proportion we have
described.- 3 If it is a distribution of common funds, it will
30 follow the same ratio in which the contributions of the various
members stand one another; and the unjust opposed to
to
just in this sense is that which violates the proportion. Now
the just in transactions is also something equal (and the un-
just something unequal), but (it is something equal) which
1132a corresponds not to a geometrical but to an arithmetical pro-
portion. 24 It makes no difference whether a decent man has

22 Modern mathematicians do not use the term "geometrical propor-

tion" in this sense.
23 I.e., the "geometrical proportion" described in the preceding chapter.
What Aristotle calls "arithmetical proportion" is
-•* best explained by
Burnet. An "arithmetical proportion" is for us not a proportion at all

but a series in an arithmetical progression. In it the first term is larger

4] BOOK FIVE 121

defrauded a bad man or vice versa, or whether it was a decent

or a bad man who committed adultery. The only difference
the law considers is damage: it
that brought about by the
treats the parties as equals and
whether one has done asks only 5

and the other has suffered wrong, and whether one has done
and the other has suffered damage. As the unjust in this
sense is inequality, the judge tries to restore the equilibrium.
When one man has inflicted and another received a wound,
or when one man has killed and the other has been killed, the
doing and suffering are unequally divided; by inflicting a loss
on the offender, the judge tries to take away his gain and restore
the equilibrium. For in involuntary transactions we use the 10

term "gain" without any qualification, even though it is not

the proper term in some instances (e.g., when a person has
inflicted a wound), and we use the term "loss" in a similar
way when he is the sufferer. But, at any rate, we do speak of
"loss" and "gain" whenever the damage sustained can be
measured. Thus, the equal occupies the middle position be-
tween the more and the less. But gain and loss are a more 15

and a less, respectively, in opposite ways: more good or less

evil are gain, and the reverse is loss. The median between
them, as we saw, is the equal or fair which, we assert, is just.
The just as a corrective is, therefore, a median between loss
and gain. That is the reason why people have recourse to a

than the second by the same amount by which the third term is larger
than the fourth: a-b-c-d. It is "something equal" because in such pro-
portions the sum of the means is equal to the sum of the extremes: a + d-
b + c. Its application here is well stated by Ross, Ethica Nicomachea (Ox-
ford, 1925), in his note on this passage:

The problem of "rectificatory justice" has nothing to do with punish-

ment proper but is only that of rectifying a wrong that has been done,
by awarding damages; i.e., rectificatory justice is that of the civil, not
that of the criminal courts. The
parties are treated as equal (since a law
court is not a court of morals), and the wrongful act is reckoned as
having brought equal gain to the wrongdoer and loss to his victim; it
brings A to the position + C, and B to the position B-C. The judge's
A
task is to find the arithmetical mean between these, and this he docs
by transferring C from A to B. . . .
 122 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

20 judge when they are engaged in a dispute. To go to a judge

means to go to the just, for to be a judge means, as it were, to
be the embodiment of what is just. They seek out a judge
who will be midway between them— some (states), in fact, call
judges "mediators"— in the belief that they will get what is
just if they get what is median. This is another indication that
the just is a kind of median, since a judge, too, may be de-
scribed as mediating.
25 The judge restores equality. As though there were a line
divided into two unequal parts, he takes away the amount
by which the larger part is greater than half the line and
adds it to the smaller. Only when the whole has been divided
into two equal parts can a man say that he has what is prop-
erly his, i.e., when he has taken an equal part. The equal
is median between the greater and the smaller according to

30 arithmetical proportion. 25 That is the reason why the just has

its name, dikaion: it is a division into two equal parts (dicha),
as if we were to call
it dichaion and the judge dichastes, (i.e.,

he who divides in two,) instead of dikastes. 26 For when x amount

is subtracted from one of two equals and added to the other, the

other will be larger by 2 x; if x had been subtracted from the

one but had not been added to the other, the other would
1132b have been larger only by x. Consequently, it is x larger
than the median, and the median is x larger than the unit
from which the subtraction was made. Accordingly, we can
use this procedure to ascertain both what we must subtract
from the party that has too much, and what we must add to
the party that has too little: we must add to the party that
5 has too little that amount by which the median is larger and
subtract from the greatest 27 the amount by which the median
is smaller. Let lines AA', BB', and CC be equal to one an-

25 See the preceding note.

26 According to Alexander of Aphrodisias (ca. a.d. 200), an ancient
commentator on Aristotle, this rather fanciful and incorrect etymology
goes back to the Pythagoreans.
27 The superlative is used because three terms are involved: the lesser,

the greater, and the median.

5] BOOK FIVE 123

other; 28 subtract AE from AA' and add it to CC as DC, so

that the whole line DCC is larger than EA' by DC + CF. DCC
is, therefore, larger than BB' by DC. 29
The terms "loss" and "gain" we have been using come from
voluntary exchange. To possess more than what was one's own
(previously) is called "making a gain," and to have less than
one started out with is called "incurring a loss," e.g., in buy-
ing, selling, and all other transactions in which the law per- 15

mits to the agent freedom of action. But when neither party

has more or less but exactly what they had contributed to the
transaction, they say that they have their own without loss and
without gain. In the same way, the just in involuntary transac-
tions occupies the median between a gain and a loss: it is to
have an equal amount both before and after the transaction. 20

5. Just action as reciprocity in the economic life of the state

Some people believe with the Pythagoreans that the just in

the unqualified sense is reciprocity, 30 for the Pythagoreans
used to define the just without any qualification as "suffering
that which one has done to another." Now, reciprocity corre-

A E V
1
I 1

B B'
I 1

D C F C
{-AE) (=AE)
EA' represents the lesser, DCC the greater, and BB' the median, i.e.,

the just amount.

20 After this, all the manuscripts carry a sentence which is identical
with chap. 5, 1 133a 14-16: "This is true of the other arts as well: they
would disappear, if there were not a relationship between an active and
a passive element such that the one performs and the other undergoes 10
precisely the same thing, of the same quantity and the same quality."
Although the sentence is difficult in either context, it is more out of
place here and probably entered the manuscript tradition by mistake.
30 The term translated 'reciprocity* (antipeponthos) means literally
'suffering in return for one's action' and comes close to the concepts of
"an eye for an eye" and "let the punishment fit the crime."
 124 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

sponds neither to just action as distribution nor to just action

25 as rectification; 31 and yet people interpret even Rhadaman-
thys' rule of the just in this sense: "If he suffers what he com-
mitted, then justice will be straight." 32 For there are many
cases in which reciprocity and the just are not identical, e.g.,
if a magistrate, while in office, strikes a man, he should not be
struck in return, and if someone strikes a magistrate, he should
not only be struck in return but should, in addition, be pun-
30 ished. Moreover, there is a great difference between voluntary
and involuntary action.
But in associations that are based on mutual exchange, the
just in this sense constitutes the bond that holds the associa-
tion together, that is, reciprocity in terms of a proportion and
not in terms of exact equality in the return. For it is the re-
ciprocal return of what is proportional (to what one has re-
ceived) that holds the state together. People seek either to
requite evil with evil— for otherwise their relation is regarded
1133a as that of slaves— or good with good, for otherwise there is no
mutual contribution. And it is by their mutual contribution
that men are held together. That is the reason why (the state)
erects a sanctuary of the Graces in a prominent place, in order
to promote reciprocal exchange. For that is the proper prov-
ince of gratitude: we should return our services to one who
5 has done us a favor, and at another time take the initiative in
doing him a favor. 33
Reciprocal exchange in the right proportion is determined

This becomes clear if we remember that distribution is "geometri-

31

cally" proportionate and depends on the merit of the parties concerned,

while the loss and gain in rectification have to be measured by the
judge in every instance.
3- Rhadamanthys, the son of Zeus and Europa, did not die but went
to Elysium, where he continues to administer the justice for which he
was famous on earth. An ancient commentator attributes the verse quoted
here to Hesiod (fig. 174 Rzach).
33 The Greek word for 'grace,' charis, also embodies the notions of
'gratitude' and favor.' According to the famous traveller Pausanias (//.
a.d. 150), many Greek cities, including Sparta, Orchomenus, and Olympia,

had prominent sanctuaries to the Graces (Charites).

5] BOOK FIVE 125

by diagonal combination of terms. Let A be a builder, B a

shoemaker, c a house, and d a shoe. Now, the builder must
take the shoemaker's product from the shoemaker and give
him part of his own product. 34 Thus, if (1) proportional 10

equality is established between the goods, and (2) reciprocity

effected, the fairexchange we spoke of will be realized. But if
there is no proportionality, the exchange is not equal and fair,
and (the association of the two will) not hold together. For
there is nothing to prevent the product of the one from being
greater than that of the other, and they must, therefore, be
equalized. This is true of the other arts as well: they would
disappear if there were not a relationship between an active
and a passive element such that the one performs and the
other undergoes precisely the same thing of the same quantity 15

and the same community is not formed by two

quality. For a
physicians, but by a physician and a farmer, and, in general,
by people who are different and unequal. But they must be
equalized; and hence everything that enters into an exchange
must somehow be comparable.
It is for this purpose that money has been introduced: it

becomes, as it were, a middle term. For it measures all things, 20

(not only their equality but) also the amount by which they
exceed or fall short (of one another). Thus it tells us how
many shoes are equal to a house or to a given quantity of food.
The relation between builder and shoemaker must, therefore,
correspond to the relation between a given amount of shoes
and a house or a quantity of food. For if it does not, there will

34 The following diagram will explain what Aristotle means by diago-

nal combination of terms:

d
The product (c) of the builder (A) goes to the shoemaker (B), and the
product (d) of the shoemaker (B) goes to the builder (A) in this reciprocal
exchange.
 126 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

be no exchange and no community. And the relation will not

25 be the same unless the goods are somehow equal. Conse-
quently, all goods must be measured by some single standard,
as stated earlier, and that standard is, in fact, need, which
holds everything together (in a community). For if men were
to require nothing, or were not to require things equally, there
would be no exchange or not the same kind of exchange. Now,
money has by general agreement come to represent need. That
30 is why it has the name of "currency": it by current con-
exists
35 and not by nature, and
vention it is in our power to change
and invalidate it.

Thus, reciprocity will be attained when the terms have been

equalized, and when, as a result, the product of the shoemaker
is to the product of the farmer as the farmer is to the shoemaker.

1133b But the figure of the proportion must not be drawn up after
the exchange has taken place (else one extreme will have both
excesses), but when each side still has possession of its own
product. 36 In this way, they are equal and members of the
community, since this kind of equality can be established in
35 The Greek word for 'money,' 'coin,' 'currency' (nomisma) comes

from the same root as nomos, 'law,' 'convention.'

36 The meaning of this rather awkward sentence seems to be the fol-
lowing. Aristotle has stated above (see p. 125, note 34) that reciprocal
exchange is determined by diagonal combination of terms. This is the
figure of proportion that must be established before (not after) the
exchange takes place. If a builder (A) and a shoemaker (D) are to ex-
change their products, a house (c) and shoes (d), the just amount of
reciprocity can only be ascertained by finding an equivalent (in terms
of need = money) between shoes and house, so that c-xd, for only in
that way can A and B be regarded as equal parties to the exchange. Thus
the figure of proportion is A.B-xd:c, and must be estab-
the value of x
lished before the exchange, while A still has the house and B still has
the shoes. For if no previous equation is established between c and d, B
will get one house for one pair of shoes, so that he, being one extreme
in the exchange, will have both excesses: he will not only have the house,
which is worth more than the pair of shoes he has given for it, but he
will also have all those shoes (minus the one pair he has given) which
would be the true equivalent of the house. Unfortunately, Aristotle gives
us no hint about the way in which such equivalences are to be estab-
lished.
 5] BOOK FIVE 127

their case. Let A be a farmer, r food, D a shoemaker, and d his

product equalized to r. If it were impossible to establish reci-

procity between them in this manner, a community or associa-

tion between them would be impossible. That it is need which
holds the parties together as if they were one single unit is
shown by the fact that there is no exchange when one or both
parties do not stand in need of the other. For example, (no
exchange takes place) when someone needs what we do not
have, e.g., wine, and we can only offer him the privilege of ex-
porting grain. 37 Consequently, in a case like this, equality (of 10

need) must be established.

Now money which gives us a guarantee of future ex-
it is

change. If we need nothing at the moment, it guarantees that

exchange will take place when the need arises. For when we
bring money, it must be possible to get what we need. (But it
is true that) what happens to goods also happens to money,
i.e., it does not always have equal value. Still, it tends to be

constant. Therefore, the price of all goods should be fixed, for

in that way there will always be exchange, and if there is ex- 15

change there is a community. Thus, money acts like a meas-

ure: it makes goods commensurable and equalizes them. For
just as there is no community without exchange, there is no
exchange without equality and no equality without commen-
suiability.
Now, of course it is impossible that things differing so
greatly from one another should in reality become commen-
surable. But it can be done adequately by relating them to 20
need. Accordingly, there must be some unit, and it must be
established by arbitrary usage— hence the name "currency." 38
This unit makes everything commensurable, for everything is
measured by money. Let a be a house, b ten minae, and c a

37 The meaning of this passage is obscure, and a fully satisfactory

explanation seems impossible. The easiest way out of the difficulties is to
follow Miinscher, Burnet, and Gauthier-Jolif in inserting ovk before c^ci.
But this creates a new problem in that it compels us to treat cujtos and
Tis as referring to dilferent parties.
38 Cf. p. 126, note 35.
 128 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

bed. If the house is worth five minae, or equal to five minae,

25 a = b/ 2; the bed c, (if its one mina,) is b/ 10. It is, there-
value is

fore, obvious how many beds are equal to one house, namely
five. Clearly, this is the way in which exchange took place be-

fore the existence of money, for it makes no difference whether

five beds or the money value of five beds is the equivalent of a
house.
We have discussed what the unjust and what the just is.
is

Now that they have been differentiated from one another, it

30 is clear that just action is median between acting unjustly and

suffering unjustly: the one is having too much and the other
is having too little. Justice is a sort of mean, not in the same

way as the other virtues are, but in that it is realized in a me-

1134a dian amount, while injustice belongs to the extremes. More-
over, justice is that quality in terms of which we can say of a
just man that he practices by choice what is just, and that, in
making distribution between himself and another, or between
two others, he will not give himself the larger and his neighbor
the smaller share of what is desirable (and vice versa in dis-
5 tributing what is harmful), but he will give an equal share as
determined by proportion, and he will act in the same way in
distributing between two others. Injustice, on the other hand,
is the quality similarly related to what is unjust, 39 and the un-

just is an excess and a deficiency of what is helpful and harm-

ful, and it violates proportion. Injustice is, therefore, excess

and deficiency, because it tends toward excess and deficiency:

10 in one's own case toward an excess of what is in itself helpful
and toward a deficiency of what is harmful; in the case of dis-
tribution among others, although the result is by and large the
same, the violation of proportion may take place in either di-
rection. Of the offenses the lesser is to suffer unjustly and the
greater to act unjustly. So much for our discussion of the na-
15 ture of justice and injustice, and also of the just and the un-
just in their general sense.

39 In other words, injustice is the characteristic which makes us say

that an unjust man acts through choice of what is unjust.
6] BOOK FIVE 129

6. What is just in the political sense

Since a man who acts unjustly is not ipso facto unjust, what
kind of offenses must a man commit to be marked as unjust,
in each of the various senses of injustice, for instance, to be
marked as a thief, an adulterer, or a robber? Certainly, the
fact that the offense has been committed does not make any
man
difference: a might have sexual intercourse with a woman
knowing who she but the motive that initiated the act
is, 20
might be emotion and not choice. He acts unjustly, but he is
not unjust. In other words, a man may have stolen but not be
a thief, and he may have committed adultery but not be an
(habitual) adulterer, and so forth. 40
We between reciprocity and the
stated earlier the relation
But we must not forget that we are looking both for
just. 41

what is just in an unqualified sense and for what is just in 25

social and political matters. The just in political matters is
found among men who share a common life in order that their
association bring them self-sufficiency, and who are free and
equal, either proportionately or arithmetically. 42 Hence, in a
society where this is not the case, there is nothing just in the
political sense in the relations of the various members to one
another, but there is only something which bears a resem-
blance to what is just. For the just exists only among men
whose mutual relationship is regulated by law, and law exists 30
where injustice may occur. For legal judgment decides and
40 The subject matter of this paragraph is more germane to the
problems discussed below in chaps. 8-9 than to the problems of chaps. 6-7.
Why it is inserted here is hard to determine. Perhaps it is merely in-
tended as a general reminder— which might be inserted almost anywhere
—that justice, like all the other virtues, depends on choice.
41 See the beginning of chap. 5 above.
42 The of an aristocracy are proportionately equal in that
citizens
the honor and civic rights of each depend on his merit, while those of
a democracy are arithmetically equal because every freeborn citizen has
one and the same vote, and, in the Athenian democracy, equal access to
public office.
 130 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

distinguishes between what is just and what is unjust. Where

there is injustice there is also unjust action— although unjust
action does not always imply that there is injustice— and un-

just action means to assign to oneself too much of things

intrinsically good and too little of things intrinsically evil.
35 That is why we do not allow the rule of a man but the rule of
reason, because a man takes too large a share for himself and
1134b becomes a tyrant. A (true) ruler, however, is the guardian of
what is just, and as such he is also the guardian of equality
and fairness. We think of a just ruler as one who does not get
more than his share. He does not assign to himself a larger
share of what is intrinsically good, unless such a share is pro-
portionate to his deserts. His labor is, therefore, for the bene-
5 fit of others, and for this reason justice is called "another's
good," as we stated above. 43 Consequently, he must be given
some recompense, and this consists in honor and privilege.
Those for whom this is not adequate recompense become ty-
rants.
What is just for the master of a slave and just for a father is

similar to, but not identical with, the politically just.There

can be no unqualified injustice in one's relation to what is his
10 own: a piece of property, (i.e., a slave,) and a child are part of
one's person, as it were, until (the latter) reaches a certain age
and becomes independent, and no one would deliberately de-
sire to harm himself. For the same reason, there is no such

thing as injustice toward oneself, and it follows that what is

politically unjust and just does not apply here. For the politi-
cally just, as we saw, depends upon law and applies to people
who have a natural capacity for law, that is people who have
15 the requisite equality in ruling and being ruled. Hence, just
action sooner possible toward one's wife than to one's chil-
is

dren and property. For what is just toward one's wife is what
is just in household management (where husband and wife
share as equals). But even this is different from what is just in

social and political matters.

43 Cf. chap. 1, 1130a3-5, with note 10.

7] BOOK FIVE 131

7. Just by nature and just by convention

What is just in the political sense can be subdivided into

what is just by nature and what is just by convention. What is
by nature just has the same force everywhere and does not
depend on what we regard or do not regard as just. In what is
just by convention, on the other hand, it makes originally no 20
difference whether it is fixed one way or another, but it does
make a difference once it is fixed, for example, that a prison-
er's ransom one mina, or that
shall be a sacrifice shall consist
of a goat but not of two sheep, and all the other measures
enacted for particular occasions (such as the sacrifice offered
to Brasidas) 44 and everything enacted by decree. Now, some
people 45 think that everything just exists only by convention,
since whatever is by nature is unchangeable and has the same 25
force everywhere— as, for example, fire burns both here and in
Persia— whereas they see that notions of what is just change.
But this is not the correct view, although it has an element of
truth. Among the gods, to be sure, it is probably not true at
all, but among us there are things which, though naturally

just, are nevertheless changeable, as are all things human. Yet

in spite of that, there are some things that are just by nature 30
and others not by nature. It is not hard to see among the
things which admit of being other than they are, which ones
are by nature and which ones not by nature but by convention
or agreement, although both kinds are equally subject to
change. The same distinction will fit other matters as well: by
nature, the right hand is the stronger, and yet it is possible for
any man to become ambidextrous. What is just as determined 35

44 After the brilliant Spartan general Brasidas had been killed while
liberating Amphipolis from Athenian control in 422 B.C., the people of
Amphipolis worshipped him as a hero with annual games and sacrifices
in his honor; cf. Thucydides V. 11.
45 Aristotle no doubt has some of the Sophists in mind; see in par-

ticular the fragment of the Sophist Antiphon (frg. 44A DK.6) and the
speech of Callicles in Plato's Gorgias 482c-486d.
 132 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

1135a by agreement and advantage is like measures: measures for

wine and for grain are not equal everywhere; they are larger
where people buy and smaller where they sell. 40 In the same
way, what is just not by nature but by human enactment is
no more the same everywhere than constitutions are. Yet there
5 is only one constitution that is by nature the best everywhere.

Each notion of what is just and lawful stands in the same

relation (to a just and lawful act) as the universal to the par-
ticular. For there are many specific acts, but only one thing in
each case that is just, viz., the universal. There is a difference
between an act of injustice and what is unjust and between an
act of justice and what is just. The unjust exists by nature or
10 by enactment. When it is it is an act of injustice;
performed,
before being performed was not an act of injustice but sim-
it

ply unjust. The same is true for an act of justice, although

strictly speaking the general term is "just act," and "act of

justice" is reserved for the rectification of an act of injustice. 47

46 The interpretation of this passage given by all modern commenta-

tors—most recently by R. A. Gauthier and J. Y. Jolif, L'tthique a
Nicomaque, Vol. II, Part 1, pp. 395-96— is that Aristotle is thinking of
something like wholesale and retail trade: a wholesaler, it is argued,
would buy wine by the gallon and a retailer would sell it by the pint.
However, since the 7ravra\ov ('everywhere'), as it is used twice in the next
sentence, makes it clear that Aristotle is not thinking of transactions in the
same city but in different cities, this interpretation becomes untenable.
What Aristotle seems to mean is that in states where the citizens are
buyers rather than sellers of a given commodity, e.g., grain, the official
measures tend to be on the large side, since evidently buyers in Greece
wanted to make their units of purchase as large as possible; while in
states where grain was sold rather than bought, the measures would
tend to be smaller. In Athens, for example, where the citizens would
usually buy rather than sell grain, a medimnos would be larger than
what would be called medimnos in Sicily, where the citizens would be
more likely to sell than to buy grain.
47 This discussion of proper Greek usage- dikaid ma ('act of justice'),
which is used of a judicial act in which a wrong is rectified, in place of
dikaiopragema ('just act')-cannot be successfully imitated in English. The
point is that, in order to find a verbal counterpoint to adikema ('act of
injustice,' 'unjust act'), Aristotle uses dikaioma in a sense
which is not
sanctioned by good Greek usage.
8] BOOK FIVE 133

But we must postpone until later an examination of the var-

ious kinds of acts of justice and of injustice, and also of their
number and the sphere in which they operate. 48

8. The various degrees of responsibility for just and unjust

action

Now that we have described what and unjust, we can

is just 15
say that a man acts unjustly when he performs such
and justly
acts voluntarily. When he performs them involuntarily, he
acts neither unjustly nor justly except in an incidental way,
inasmuch as he performs acts which happen to be just or un-
just.The unjust and the just act are defined by the voluntary 20
and the involuntary. 49 For when a deed is voluntary it is
blamed, and it is then at the same time an unjust act. Thus it
will be possible for a deed to be unjust without yet being an
"unjust act" 50 if the element of voluntariness is absent. By a
voluntary act, as mean an act which
has been stated earlier, 51 I
lies in power to perform, performed by the agent in
the agent's
full knowledge and without ignorance either of the person
acted on, the instrument used, or the result intended by his ac- 25
tion. He must know, for example, whom he is striking, with
what instrument, and what result he intends to achieve. More-
over, no voluntary act is performed incidentally or under con-
straint. For example, if A takes B's hand and strikes C, B does
not act voluntarily, since the act was not in his power. A man
may possibly strike his father, realizing that he is striking a
man or a bystander, but without knowing that it is his father
whom he is striking. A similar distinction can be drawn as re- 30

48 This promise is not fulfilled in any of the extant writings of

Aristotle.
49 Aristotle does not mean that just action is voluntary and unjust
involuntary, or vice versa, but that actions which are essentially just
and unjust must be voluntary, while involuntary acts can be just or unjust
only incidentally.
50 Throughout this context, adikema or 'unjust act' is used for an action
whose injustice is not incidental but essential.
51 See III. 1, Hlla3-b3.
 134 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

gards the result intended and the action as a whole. Thus, acts
which are performed in ignorance or which, though not in
ignorance, are not in the agent's power or are performed un-
der constraint are involuntary. For in fact there are many
1135b natural processes that we perform or undergo in full knowl-
edge, none of which is either voluntary or involuntary, for ex-
ample, growing old or dying.
The incidental sense may likewise apply to unjust and just
action. A man might return a deposit involuntarily and
5 through fear, so that we cannot say that he does what is just
or acts justly, except incidentally. Similarly, we can say that a
man acts unjustly and does what is unjust only incidentally
when he fails to return a deposit under compulsion and in-
voluntarily. We
perform some voluntary acts by choice and
others not by choice. We perform them by choice when we
10 deliberate in advance, but actions which have not been previ-
ously deliberated upon are not performed by choice. 52
Thus there are three types of injury that occur in commu-
nities and associations: (1) injuries committed in ignorance are
mistakes, when the person affected, the act, the instrument, or
result are not what the agent supposed they were. He thought
he was not hitting anyone, or not with that particular missile,
or not that particular person, or not for this purpose, but a
15 resultwas obtained which he had not intended (for example,
if (a wound but merely to prick) or
dueller) did not intend to
the person or the missile were not what he thought they were.
(2) When the injury inflicted happens contrary to reasonable
expectation, it is a mishap; when it happens not contrary to
reasonable expectation, but without malice, it is a mistake. In
the case of a mistake, the source of responsibility lies within
the agent; in a mishap the initiative lies outside him. (3)
When the injury is knowledge but without
inflicted in full
20 previous deliberation, it is an unjust act, for example, any act
due to anger or to any other unavoidable or natural emotion
to which human beings are subject. For when people inflict

52 See III. 1, 1112al4-17.

 8] BOOK. FIVE 135

these injuries and commit these mistakes, they act unjustly, to

be sure, and what they perform are unjust acts. Still, they are
not ipso facto unjust or wicked for committing these acts, since
is not due to wickedness. But when a man
the injury inflicted
actsfrom choice, he is unjust and wicked. 53 25
That is why acts due to anger are rightly judged not to be
committed with malice aforethought. The initiative rests not
with the man who acts in anger but with him who provokes
it.Moreover, the issue is not whether the act took place or not
but whether it was just; for feelings of anger are aroused by
an apparent injustice. (In such a case, people) do not dispute
facts as they do in private transcations, where one of the 30
parties must necessarily be a scoundrel, unless they disagree
because they have forgotten the facts; 54 but they agree about
the facts and dispute which side has acted justly (a man who
has deliberately inflicted an injury is well aware that he has
done so), so that one party thinks he has been wronged, while
the other denies it.

However, if a man harms another by choice, he acts un- 1136a

justly, and it is this kind of unjust act which makes the agent
an unjust man if he acts against proportion or equality. Simi-
larly, a man is just if he performs just acts by choice, but his

action is just if only it is voluntary. 55

Some involuntary acts are pardonable and others are not. 5
Wrongs which are not only performed in ignorance but actually
due to ignorance are pardonable; but they are not pardonable

53 This would seem to constitute a fourth kind of injury, but in fact

it does not. Like (3) it is an unjust act, but while (3) was unjust inci-
dentally, this kind of act is essentially unjust.
54 If A claims and B denies that a certain transaction took place or
that certain promises were made, one of them must necessarily be a liar,
unless he has forgotten the facts.
55 Thus Aristotle returns once more to the distinction drawn at the

beginning of chap. 6 between a just act, which implies only knowledge

and intent of the agent, and justice as a characteristic of agents, which
requires not only knowledge and intent, but also deliberation followed by
conscious choice.
 136 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

if, although done in ignorance, they are due not to ignorance

but to some emotion which is neither natural nor typical of

men. 56

9. Voluntariness and involuntariness in just and unjust

action and suffering

10 But the problem remains whether we have drawn our dis-

tinctions in the matter of acting and suffering unjustly with
sufficient stringency. In the first place, we may ask whether
there is any truth in what Euripides has expressed in the
strange words:

A: I killed my mother, brief is my report.

B: Were you both willing, or neither she nor you? 57

15 Is it really possible that a person voluntarily submits to un-

just treatment, or is, on the contrary, all unjust treatment
suffered involuntarily, just as every unjust act is performed
voluntarily? Is all unjust treatment undergone voluntarily or
is it all undergone involuntarily? Or do we suffer it sometimes
voluntarily and sometimes involuntarily? The same applies to
undergoing performed volun-
just treatment: all just action is

tarily, so that it makes sense that acting and being treated

20 (justly or unjustly) should be similarly opposed to one an-

other, and that we should either voluntarily or involuntarily
undergo both unjust and just treatment. Yet it would seem
strange if we were to receive all just treatment voluntarily, for
some people are treated justly without being willing.
56 Throughout this discussion of involuntary injustice or wrongdoing,
one should bear in mind Aristotle's description of Oedipus in Poetics
13, 1453a7-17, as a man whose wrongdoing was not due to wickedness
but to a "great error" (hamartia, cf. the hamartema or 'mistake' enumer-
ated as the first type of injury at 1135bl2, above). It seems very likely
that Aristotle has Oedipus in mind when he speaks of a man who strikes
his father "without knowing that it is his father whom he is striking"
(1135a28). This chapter thus sheds some light on what Aristotle says
about the character of the tragic hero in the Poetics— and inversely.
57 The quotation probably comes from Euripides' lost Alcmaeon, which

Aristotle also cites in III. 1, 1110a28-29 with note 2.

9] BOOK FIVE 137

Secondly, we might also raise the question whether every per-

son who has suffered something unjust is receiving unjust treat-
ment, or whether the situation is the same in suffering as it

is in doing. For it is possible to participate in a just act inci- 25

dentally, whether as doer or recipient, and the same is obvi-

ously also true of an unjust act. Doing unjust things is not
the same as acting unjustly, and suffering something unjust is

not the same as receiving unjust treatment; and the same

applies to acting justly and receiving just treatment. 58 It is

impossible to receive unjust treatment unless someone acts un- 30

justly, or to receive just treatment unless someone acts justly.
But if acting unjustly in its widest sense means to harm
a person voluntarily, whereas "voluntarily" means knowing
the person affected, the instrument, and the manner of acting;
and if a morally weak man voluntarily harms himself, it
would follow that he suffers unjust treatment voluntarily,
and that it is possible for a man to act unjustly toward him-
self. (Here we have one more problem, namely whether it is

possible to act unjustly toward oneself.) 59 Moreover, moral 1136b

weakness might make a man voluntarily submit to harm in-
flicted by another person acting voluntarily, with the result
that it would be possible to receive unjust treatment volun-
tarily.

Surely, our definition of acting unjustly is not correct: to

"harming a person knowing the person affected, the instru-
ment, and the manner of acting" we must add "against that
person's wish." Then we can conclude that, though a person
can voluntarily be harmed and suffer something unjust, no 5

one voluntarily receives unjust treatment; G0 for no one, not

even a morally weak person, wishes to be harmed. A morally
weak man acts contrary to his wish, for no one wishes some-
58 Cf. the beginning of chap. 6 above.
59
This problem is discussed in chap. 11 below.
60 We have here again the same kind of distinction as drawn at the
beginning of chap. 6 above. The meaning is that an unjust act as such is
never desired by the patient. He may be willing to submit to treatment
which is incidentally unjust, but he does so for some other reason, not
because it is unjust.
 138 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

thing that he does not believe to be morally good, yet a

morally weak man does what he believes he ought not to do.
But when a man gives away what is his— as Homer says
10 Glaucus gave to Diomcdes "armour of gold for bronze, for
nine oxen's worth the worth of a hundred" — he does not (!1

receive unjust treatment. For while it is in his power to give,

it not in his power to receive unjust treatment: for that
is

there must be someone to treat him unjustly. Thus it is clear

that one cannot receive unjust treatment voluntarily.
15 There still remain two points that we intended to discuss.
(1) Can it ever happen that, when an unduly large share
is distributed, the unjust act is committed by the person who

distributes, or is it always the person who acquires it? And (2)

is it possible to act unjustly toward oneself?
If it is possible to answer the first of these questions in the
affirmative, that is to say, if the man who distributes and not
the man who acquires too large a share acts unjustly, it fol-

lows that a person who knowingly and voluntarily assigns to

someone else a larger share than to himself acts unjustly to-
20 ward himself. Moderate people are thought to act this way,
for a decent (J1>
man takes less than his share. (But even this
statement needs some qualification, for such a man may obtain
more than his share of some other good thing, for example, of
glory or of something intrinsically noble, (i.e., goodness).)
Moreover, this problem is solved by reference to our defini-
tion of acting unjustly: a man who takes less than his share
suffers nothing against his wish, so that he receives no unjust
treatment, at least not because he takes the smaller share, but,
25 if at all, only because he suffers harm.

It is evident also that the man who distributes, and not always
he who It is not the
acquires, too large a share acts unjustly.
person who has the unjust share in his possession who acts
unjustly, but one who performs such an act voluntarily, and
that is the person with whom rests the initiative of the action.
Now the initiative rests with the distributor and not with the
61 Homer, Iliad VI. 236, tr. Richmond Lattimore.
02 See Glossary, epieikes, and p. 141, note 69.
9] BOOK FIVE 139

recipient. Furthermore, the word "do" is used in many senses:

it is possible to speak of an inanimate object as committing 30
murder, or of a hand, or of a servant who does his master's
bidding. In such a case, no one acts unjustly (by choice),
though an unjust act is "done."
Again, if a judge passes judgment in ignorance of a material
detail, he does not act unjustly as defined by the law and his
decision is not unjust (in this sense), although it is in another
sense. For what is just in the sight of the law is not the same
as what is just in the primary sense. 03 But if he passed unjust
judgment knowingly, he too 04 takes more than his share, 1137a
either of favor (for one party) or of revenge (against the other).
Thus, a man who has passed unjust judgment for reasons of
favoritism or revenge gets too large a share, just as much
as if he were to share in the proceeds of unjust action. And
that is in fact the case if, in awarding land unjustly, his own
share is not land but money. 5

Men believe that it is in their power to act unjustly and

that it is, therefore, easy to be just. But that is not so. To
have intercourse with a neighbor's wife, to strike a bystander,
or to slip money into someone's hand is easy and in our
power; but to do so as a result of a basic attitude or char-
acteristic is neither easy nor in our power. Similarly, people
think it does not take much wisdom to know what is just and 10

what is unjust, because it is not hard to understand the mat-

terswith which the laws deal. But these things are not just
except incidentally. 05 No, to know how an act must be per-

63 What Aristotle apparently means by this elliptical statement is to

differentiate questions of fact from questions of law. If a judge is misin-
formed but judges according to the law, his decision is "just in the sight
of the law." But it is obviously not "just in the primary sense," i.e., in
the true sense, since if he had been properly informed he would have
judged otherwise.
64 as well as the party favored by the unjust decision.
i.e.,

65
As he does at greater length in X. 9, 1181al2-19, Aristotle seems here
to be answering Isocrates, who in his Antidosis 80-83 identified the art
of legislation with collecting many laws. Aristotle's suggestion that what
is defined by the law is not ipso facto just but may be so incidentally,
 140 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

formed and how must be made in order to be

a distribution
just is a know what makes men healthy.
harder task than to
For in this field also it is easy to know what honey, wine,
15 hellebore, cautery, and surgery are, but to know how to ad-
minister them to whom and when, in order to make the
patient healthy, is as great a task as to be a physician. For
that very reason GG people believe that a just man can also act
unjustly, no less than an unjust man, because a just man
should be not less but more capable of committing either
just or unjust acts. 07 For he might have intercourse with a
20 woman or strike another person, and a brave man might throw
away his shield, turn around, and run in any direction. How-
ever, being a coward and acting unjustly does not consist in
doing these things, except incidentally, but in doing them
as a result of a basic attitude, or characteristic, just as being
a physician and curing one's patients does not consist in
performing or not performing an operation, or in administer-
25 ing or not administering drugs, but in doing so in a certain
way, (i.e., in the way a physician does in virtue of his knowl-
edge of medicine).
Just action is possible between people who share in things
intrinsically good, and who can have an excess and a defici-
ency of them. For there are some beings— including, no doubt,
the gods— who cannot have too much of these goods. There
are others, the incurably bad, to whom not even the slightest
share of good things would be beneficial but whom any of
these would harm. And there are others for whom things
30 intrinsically good are beneficial up to a certain point. And this
is the case of mankind. 68

makes clear that even what is just bv convention (cf. chap. 7 above) is not
reducible to positive law. Aristotle thus recognizes the possibility of unjust
laws.
66 because of their belief that it is in our power to act unjustly.
I.e.,

67
This argument was used by Socrates against Polemarchus in Plato,
Republic I. 333e-334b.
68 I follow Stewart and Burnet in bracketing the cua of the manuscripts.
10] BOOK FIVE 141

10. Equity and the equitable

The next subject we have to discuss is equity and the

equitable, 09 and the relation of equity to justice and of the
equitable to what is just. For on examination they appear
to be neither absolutely identical nor generically different.
Sometimes we go so far in praising a thing or a man as "equi- 35

table" that we use the word in an extended sense as a general 1137b

term of praise for things in place of "good," and really mean
"better" when we say "more equitable." But at other times,
when we follow the logical consequences, it appears odd that
the equitable should be distinct from the just and yet deserve
praise. If the two terms are different, then either the just is
not of great moral value, 70 or the equitable is not just. If both
are of great moral value, they are the same. 5

These, then, are roughly the reasons why a problem about

the equitable has arisen. All our points are in a sense correct
and there is no inconsistency. For the equitable is just despite
the fact that it is better than the just in one sense. But it is

not better than the just in the sense of being generically dif-

ferent from it. This means that just and equitable are in
fact identical (in genus), and, although both are morally good, 10

the equitable is the better of the two. What causes the prob-
lem is that the equitable is not just in the legal sense of "just"
but as a corrective of what is legally just. The reason is that
all law is universal, but there are some things about which it

is not possible to speak correctly in universal terms. Now, in

situations where it is necessary to speak in universal terms
but impossible to do so correctly, the law takes the majority 15
of cases, fully realizing in what respectit misses the mark. The

law itself is none the less correct. For the mistake lies neither
in the law nor in the lawgiver, but in the nature of the case.

60 See Glossary, epieikes. The meaning of epieikes and its cognate noun
epieikeia is considerably wider than 'equitable' and 'equity' and includes
any notion of decency, fair play, etc.
70 Because, as stated above, 'equitable' is often used interchangeably
with 'good.'
 142 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

For such is the material of which actions are made. So in a

20 situation in which the law speaks universally, but the case at
issue happens to fall outside the universal formula, it is cor-
rect to rectify the shortcoming, in other words, the omission
and mistake of the lawgiver due to the generality of his state-
ment. Such a rectification corresponds to what the lawgiver
himself would have said if he were present, and what he would
have enacted he had known (of this particular case). 71 That
if

is why the equitable is both just and also better than the
just in one sense. It is not better than the just in general, but
25 better than the mistake due to the generality (of the law).
And this is the very nature of the equitable, a rectification of
law where law falls short by reason of its universality. This is

also the reason why not all things are determined by law. There
are some things about which it is impossible to enact a law, so
that a special decree is required. For where a thing is in-
definite, the rule by which it is measured is also indefinite, as
30 is, for example, the leaden rule used in Lesbian construction
work. 72 Just as this rule is not rigid but shifts with the
contour of the stone, so a decree is adapted to a given situa-
tion.
Thus it is clear what the equitable is, that it is just, and
better than just in one sense of the term. We see from this,

35 too, what an equitable man is. A man is equitable who chooses

1138a and performs acts of this sort, who is no stickler for justice
in a bad sense, but is satisfied with less than his share even
though he has the law on his side. Such a characteristic is
equity; it is a kind of justice and not a characteristic different
from justice.
71 Aristotle here follows Plato's analysis of the shortcoming of written
laws in the Statesman 294a-295e.
72 The reference is to the Lesbian moulding which had an undulating
curve. The leaden rule, as explained by Stewart in Notes on the Nico-
machean Ethics (Vol. I., p. 531), was "a flexible piece of lead which was
firstaccommodated to the irregular surface of a stone already laid in posi-
tion, and then applied to other stones with the view of selecting one of
them with irregularities which would fit most closely into those of the
stone already laid."
 Ill BOOK FIVE 143

11. Is it possible to be unjust toward oneself?

"
The preceding discussion 3 has clarified the problem
whether or not it is possible to act unjustly toward oneself.
(1) One class of just acts is that which isordained by the law 5

in conformity with virtue as a whole. 74 For example, the law

does not enjoin suicide, and what it does not enjoin it for-
bids. 75 Moreover, when a man voluntarily— that is to say, in
full knowledge of the person affected and the instrument
used— harms another, not in retaliation, in violation of the
law, he acts unjustly. Now when a person kills himself in a fit of
anger, he acts voluntarily in violation of right reason; and 10
that the law does not permit. Consequently, he acts unjustly.
But toward whom? Surely toward the state, not toward him-
self.For he suffers voluntarily, but no one voluntarily accepts
unjust treatment. That is also the reason why the state exacts
a penalty, and some dishonor 76 is imposed upon a man who
has taken his own life, on the grounds that he has acted un-
justly toward the state.
(2) Furthermore, in those unjust acts which only 77 make
the offender unjust and not completely wicked, it is impossible 15

to act unjustly toward oneself. (This case is different from the

former: in one sense an unjust man is wicked almost in the
same way in which a coward is wicked, that is, not in the sense
of being completely wicked. Hence he is not unjust in the
sense of complete wickedness.) For if it were possible to be
unjust to oneself, (a) that would imply that the same thing
73 The reference is to the whole of Book V, not merely to chap. 10.
74 This is the general sense of justice as defined in chap. 1 above.
75 This is a literal translation of the text. But
seems hardly likely that
it

Aristotle meant to say that every action not explicitly ordered by the law
is implicitly forbidden. Perhaps we should follow Stewart in interpreting
nomos not as 'law' in a narrow and positive
sense, but as 'law and custom.'
76
According to Aeschines, Against Ctesiphon 244, the hand with which
a suicide was committed was buried apart from the body.
77 Aristotle now turns to those acts which are unjust in the partial

sense discussed in chap. 2 above, i.e., self-aggrandizement, unfairness, etc.

 144 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

can be added to and taken away from the same person at the
same But that is impossible: the just and the unjust
time.
20 always necessarily imply more than one person. Moreover, (b)
an unjust act is performed voluntarily, by choice, and prior to
the injury suffered. We do not regard as acting unjustly a man
who requites the injury he has suffered. But when a man
injures himself, he acts and suffers at the same time. Again, (c)
if a man could act unjustly toward himself, it would be pos-

sible to be treated unjustly voluntarily. In addition, (d) no

one acts unjustly without committing some unjust act in the
25 partial sense; but no one can commit adultery with his own
wife, or commit burglary in his own home, or steal his own
property. Finally, (e) the problem of being unjust to oneself
also receives a general solution from our definition dealing
with the possibility of suffering unjust treatment voluntarily. 78
It is further evident that both acting and being treated un-
justly are evils. The one is to have less and the other to have
30 more than the median share, which corresponds to what is

healthy in medicine and what brings well-being in physical

training. And yet, to act unjustly is the greater evil, since
acting unjustly involves vice and deserves blame— vice in the
most complete and general sense, or nearly so, for not every
(unjust act) voluntarily committed involves injustice. Suffering
unjust treatment, on the other hand, does not imply vice or
35 injustice. Thus, taken by itself, suffering unjust treatment is
1138b less bad, but that does not mean that it may not incidentally

be a greater evil. But that is of no concern to the practical art

(of politics); 79 (the art of medicine) calls pleurisy a more
serious disorder than tripping, and yet the reverse may be true
incidentally, happens that when you trip, you fall and
if it

5 as a result are killed or taken prisoner by the enemy.

(Although a man cannot be unjust toward himself,) there
78 See above, chap. 9, and in particular 1136bl-9, where the definition
specifies that the unjust treatment is against the wish of the victim.
"9 This distinction permits Aristotle to adhere to the Socratic maxim
that it is better to suffer than to act unjustly (see Plato, Gorgias 469b-c),

while at the same time accounting for the apparent paradox.

11] BOOK FIVE 145

is an extended sense of the word "just," based upon similarity,

which applies not to a man's relation to himself but to that

between different parts of himself. This does not involve the
just in every sense of the word, but only in the sense in which
it regulates the relation between master and slave and be-

tween the head of a household and its members. For in these

discussions 80 a distinction is drawn between the rational and
the irrational parts of the soul, and it is in view of this dis-
tinction that they regard injustice toward oneself as possible,
because one part can frustrate the desires of the other. So they 10

think that there is something just in the mutual relation be-

tween these parts in the same sense in which there is in the
mutual relation of ruler and ruled. So much for our descrip-
tion of justice and the other moral virtues.

80 The reference is to Plato and his followers; see, for instance, Re-
public III-IV. Aristotle thus concludes his discussion of justice by showing
that it accounts for the doctrine of Plato.
 BOOK VI

I. Moral and intellectual excellence; the psychological

foundations of intellectual excellence

We stated earlier 1
that we must choose the median, and not
20 excess or deficiency, and that the median is what right reason
dictates. Let us now analyze this second point.
In the characteristics we have discussed, as in all others,
all

there some target on which a rational man keeps his eye

is

as he bends and relaxes his efforts to attain it. There is also a

standard that determines the several means which, as we claim,
lie between excess and deficiency, and which are fixed by right

25 reason. But this statement, true though it is, lacks clarity.

In all other fields of endeavor in which scientific knowledge
is possible, it is indeed true to say that we must exert our-

much nor too little, but to an inter-

selves or relax neither too
mediate extent and as right reason demands. But if this is the
only thing a person knows, he will be none the wiser: he will,
30 for example, not know what kind of medicines to apply to his
body, if he is merely told to apply whatever medical science
prescribes and in a manner in which a medical expert applies
them. Accordingly, in discussing the characteristics of the soul,
too, it is not enough that the statement we have made be
true. We must also have a definition of what right reason is
and what standard determines it.
35 In analyzing the virtues of the soul we said that some are
1 139a virtues of character and others excellence of thought or under-
standing. 2 We now discussed the moral virtues, (i.e., the
have
virtues of character). In what follows, we will deal with the
others, (i.e., the intellectual virtues,} beginning with some pre-

iSee II. 2 and 6.

2 See I. 13, 1103a4-10. The word which we translate here by 'thought'
or 'understanding' (dianoia) denotes the discursive thinking which is in-
volved in any act of reasoning or understanding.

146
 BOOK SIX 147

fatory remarks about the soul. We said in our earlier discus-

sion that the soul consists of two parts, one rational and one
irrational. 3 We must now make a similar distinction in regard 5

to the rational part. Let it be assumed that there are two

rational elements: with one of thesewe apprehend the realities
whose fundamental principles do not admit of being other
than they are, and with the other we apprehend things which
do admit of being other. For if we grant that knowledge pre-
supposes a certain likeness and kinship of subject and object, 4 10

there will be a generically different part of the soul naturally

corresponding to each of two different kinds of object. Let
us call one the scientific and the other the calculative element.
Deliberating and calculating are the same thing, and no one
deliberates about objects that cannot be other than they are.
This means that the calculative constitutes one element of the
rational part of the soul. Accordingly, we must now take up 15

the question which is the best characteristic of each element,

since that constitutes the excellence or virtue of each. But
the virtue of a thing is relative to its proper function.

2. The two kinds of intellectual excellence and their objects

Now, there are three elements in the soul which control

action and truth: sense perception, intelligence, 5 and desire.

Of these sense perception does not initiate any action. We can

see this from the fact that animals have sense perception but 20
have no share in action. 6 What affirmation and negation are

3 See I. 13, 1102a26-28 with note 47.

4 The fact that this assumption, which we find enunciated for the
first time, but in a rather primitive form, by Empedocles (frg. B 109
DK6) and afterwards by Plato (e.g., Republic VI. 490b, 509d-511e; cf. also
Timaeus 45b-46a), is not argued here at all, whereas it is subjected to a
close scrutiny in De Anima I. 5, 409b26-410al3; De An. II. 5, 417al-418a6,
suggests again that the Nic. Eth. does not contain Aristotle's last word on
psychology.
5 Intelligence (nous) will be discussed in chap. 6.

6 Throughout the Nic. Eth., Aristotle uses praxis ('action') as equivalent

to 'moral action,' 'conduct'; and animals are not capable of this.
 148 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

in the realm of thought, pursuit and avoidance are in the

realm of desire. Therefore, since moral virtue is a character-
istic involving choice, and since choice is a deliberate desire, 7
it follows that, if the choice is to be good, the reasoning must
25 be true and the desire correct; that is, reasoning must affirm

what This then is the kind of thought and the

desire pursues.
kind of truth that is practical and concerned with action. On the
other hand, in the kind of thought involved in theoretical
knowledge and not in action or production, the good and the
bad state are, respectively, truth and falsehood; in fact, the
attainment of truth is the function of the intellectual faculty
as a whole. But in intellectual activity concerned with action,
30 the good state is truth in harmony with correct desire.
Choice is the starting point of action: it is the source of
motion but not the end for the sake of which we act, (i.e.,
the final cause). 8 The starting point of choice, however, is

desire and reasoning directed toward some end. That is why

there cannot be choice either without intelligence and thought
or without some moral characteristic; for good and bad ac-

7 See, II. 6 and III. 3.

8 Aristotle's doctrine of the four causes is involved here. It is most

concisely stated in Metaphyhics A. 2, 1013a24-35:

We speak of "cause" in one sense (a) (i.e., material cause,) as that whose
presence makes it possible for a thing to come into being, e.g., bronze
is in this sense the cause of a statue, silver of a cup, and so with other

kinds of material. In another sense, (b) the form and pattern is a

cause, i.e., the definition of the essential nature of the thing and the
classes in which this definition is found, e.g., the ratio 2:1 and number
in general is the cause of the octave, and also the parts of which the
essential definition consists. Furthermore, (c) there is the cause which
is the first starting point of change or of rest, e.g., a man who de-

liberates is a cause, a father is a cause of his child, and, in general,

the producing agent of the produced thing and the agent introducing
change of the thing changed. Again, (d) cause is the same as "end," i.e.,
the final cause, e.g., health is the cause of taking a walk. Why does
a man take a walk? We answer, "In order to be healthy," and, in saying
that, we think we have explained the cause.

This is not the place to discuss Aristotle's doctrine of causation in detail;

2] book six 149

tion 9 in human conduct are not possible without thought and 35

character. Now
thought alone moves nothing; only thought
which is directed to some end and concerned with action can
do so. And
it is this kind of thought also which initiates pro- 1139b
duction. For whoever produces something produces it for
an end. The product he makes is not an end in an unqualified
sense, but an end only in a particular relation and of a par-
ticular operation. Only the goal of action is an end in the un-
qualified sense: for the good life is an end, and desire is di-
rected toward this. Therefore, choice is either intelligence
motivated by desire or desire operating through thought, and
it is as a combination of these two that man is a starting point 5
of action.
(No object of choice belongs to the past: no one chooses to
have sacked Troy. For deliberation does not refer to the past
but only to the future and to what is possible; and it is not
possible that what is past should not have happened. There-
fore, Agathon is right when he says: 10

One thing alone is denied even to god:

to make undone the deeds which have been done. 10 )
As we have seen, truth is the function of both intellectual
parts (of the soul). Therefore, those characteristics which per-
mit each part to be as truthful as possible will be the virtues
of the two parts.

for an excellent summary of its bearing on the Nic. Eth., see H. H.

Joachim, Aristotle: The Nicomachean Ethics, pp. 176-87.
9 It is impossible to capture in English all the connotations of eupraxia,
which one of the key concepts in Aristotle's ethical theory. It is a
is

noun formation of an adverb-verb combination that means not only

'to act well,' but also 'to fare well,' 'to be successful,' 'to be happy.' In

other words, as the principal ingredient in the 'good life' the noun is

practically equivalent to 'happiness.'

10 Agathon, frg. 5 (Nauck2). Agathon was a tragic poet who flourished in
the last quarter of the fifth century B.C. The scene of Plato's Symposium
is laid in his house.
 1

150 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

3. The qualities by which truth is attained: (a) pure science

or knowledge

So let us make a fresh beginning and discuss these charac-

teristics once again. Let us take for granted that the faculties
15 by which the soul expresses truth by way of affirmation or
denial are five in number: art, science, practical wisdom,
theoretical wisdom, and intelligence. 11 Conviction and opinion
do not belong here, for they may be false.
What pure science or scientific knowledge is— in the precise
sense of the word and not in any of its wider uses based on
mere similarity— will become clear in the following. We are
20 all convinced that what we know scientifically cannot be

otherwise than it is; but of facts which can possibly be other

than they are we do not know whether or not they continue
to be true when removed from our observation. Therefore, an
object of scientific knowledge exists of necessity, and is, conse-
quently, eternal. For everything that exists of necessity in an
unqualified sense is eternal, and what is eternal is ungenerated
and imperishable (and hence cannot be otherwise).
25 Moreover, all scientific knowledge is held to be teachable,
and what is scientifically knowable is capable of being learned.
All teaching is based on what is already known, as we have
stated in the Analytics; 12 some teaching proceeds by induction
and some by syllogism. Now, induction is the starting point
(for knowledge), of the universal as well (as the particular),
while syllogism proceeds from universals. 13 Consequently,
ii Tor the meaning of these terms, see Glossary, techne, episteme,
and phronesis. The peculiarly Aristotelian notions of these terms and also
of "intelligence" are explained in the following chapters.
12 Posterior Analytics I. 1, 7 al.

18 We cannot here give a full explanation of syllogism and induction,

the discovery of the former of which is Aristotle's greatest contribution to
logic. lor our purposes it suffices to state that a syllogism is defined as
"an argument in which, certain assumptions having been made, some-
thing other than these assumptions necessarily follows from the fact that
they are true" (Prior Analytics I. 1, 24bl8-20), and that it involves, in
 4] BOOK SIX 151

there are starting points or principles from which a syllogism 30

proceeds and which are themselves not arrived at by a syllo-

gism. It is, therefore, induction that attains them. Accordingly,

scientific knowledge is a capacity 14 for demonstration and has,
in addition, all the other qualities which we have specified in
the Analytics. 1 * When a man believes something in the way
there specified, and when the on starting points or principles
which his beliefs rest are known to him, then he has scientific
knowledge; unless he knows the starting points or principles
better than the conclusion, he will have scientific knowledge
only incidentally. So much for our definition of scientific 35
knowledge or pure science.

4. (b) Art or applied science

Things which admit of being other than they are include 1140a
both things made and things done. Production is different
from action— for that point we can rely even on our less
technical discussions. 16 Hence, the characteristic of acting
rationally is different from the characteristic of producing
rationally. It also follows that one does not include the other, 5
for action is not production nor production action. Now,
building is an art or applied science, and it is essentially a
characteristic or trained ability of rationally producing. In
fact, there is no
not a characteristic or trained
art that is

ability of rationally producing, nor is there a characteristic of

rationally producing that is not an art. It follows that art
is identical with the characteristic of producing under the 10

its most fundamental form, two premises, at least one of which is a

universal proposition, and a conclusion. E.g., all men are mortal, Greeks
are men, therefore Greeks are mortal. For induction, see Posterior
Analytics II. 19.
14 The Greek word here is hexis; see Glossary. Here as elsewhere the

term describes an acquired possession now firmly established in the mind.

But since our usual translation 'characteristic* is hardly appropriate in
this context, 'capacity' has been substituted.
15 See Posterior Analytics I, 71b9-72b4 and 73a21-74a3.
i«See p. 9, note 17.
 152 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

guidance of true reason. All art is concerned with the realm

of coming-to-be., i.e., with contriving and studying how some-
thing which is capable both of being and of not being may
come into existence, a thing whose starting point or source is

in the producer and not in the thing produced. For art is

concerned neither with things which exist or come into being
15 by necessity, nor with things produced by nature: these have
their source of motion within themselves.
Since production and action are different, it follows that
art deals with production and not with action. In a certain
sense, fortune and art are concerned with the same things,
as Agathon says: "Fortune loves art and art fortune." So, as
20 we have said, art is a characteristic of producing under the
guidance of true reason, and lack of art, on the contrary, is a
characteristic of producing under the guidance of false reason;
and both of them deal with what admits of being other than
it is.

5. (c) Practical wisdom

We may approach the subject of practical wisdom by study-

25 ing the persons to whom we attribute it. Now, the capacity of
deliberating well about what is good and advantageous for
oneself is regarded as typical of a man of practical wisdom—
not deliberating well about what is good and advantageous
in a partial sense, forexample, what contributes to health or
strength, but what sort of thing contributes to the good life
in general. This is shown by the fact that we speak of men as
having practical wisdom in a particular respect, (i.e., not in an
unqualified sense,) when they calculate well with respect to
30 some worthwhile end, one that cannot be attained by an
applied science or art. It follows that, in general, a man of
practical wisdom is he who has the ability to deliberate.
Now no one deliberates about things that cannot be other
than they are or about actions that he cannot possibly per-
form. Since, as we saw, pure science involves demonstration,
while things whose starting points or first causes can be other
5] book six 153

than they are do not admit of demonstration— for such things

too (and not merely their first causes) can all be other than 35

they are— and since it is impossible to deliberate about what

exists by necessity, we may conclude that practical wisdom 1 1 10b
is neither a pure science nor an art. It is not a pure science,
because matters of action admit of being other than they are,
and it is not an applied science or art, because action and pro-
duction are generically different.
What remains, then, is that it is a truthful characteristic of
acting rationally in matters good and bad for man. For pro- 5

duction has an end other than itself, but action does not:
good action 17 is an end. That is why we think that
itself

Pericles and men him have practical wisdom. 18 They have

like
the capacity of seeing what is good for themselves and for
mankind, and these are, we believe, the qualities of men 10

capable of managing households and states.

This also explains why we call "self-control" sophrosyne:
it "preserves" our "practical wisdom." 19 What it preserves
is the kind of conviction we have described. For the pleasant
and the painful do not destroy and pervert every conviction
we hold— not, for example, our conviction that a triangle has
or does not have the sum of its angles equal to two right 15

angles— but only the convictions we hold concerning how we

should act. In matters of action, the principles or initiating
motives are the ends at which our actions are aimed. But
as soon as a man becomes corrupted by pleasure or pain, the
goal no longer appears to him as a motivating principle:
he no longer he should choose and act in every case
sees that
for the sake of and because of this end. For vice tends to
destroy the principle or initiating motive of action.
17 For the term eupraxia, 'good action,' see p. 149, note 9.
18 The name of Pericles (ca. 495-429 B.C.,) is almost synonymous with the
Athenian democracy. For an estimate of his character and the practical
wisdom of his policies, see Thucydides II. 65.
U) A few remarks on the etymology of sophrosyne have been made

on p. 77, note 29. Aristotle here derives the noun from the verb soizein, 'to
save,' 'preserve,' and the abstract noun phronesis, 'practical wisdom'
(following Plato, Cratylus 41 le).
 154 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

20 Necessarily, then, practical wisdom is a truthful rational

characteristic of acting in matters involving what is good for
man. Furthermore, whereas there exists such a thing as excel-
lence in art, it does not exist in practical wisdom. 20 Also, in
art a man who makes a mistake voluntarily is preferable to
one who makes it involuntarily; but in practical wisdom, as in
every virtue or excellence, such a man is less desirable. Thus
it is clear that practical wisdom is an excellence or virtue and
25 not an art. Since there are two parts of the soul that contain
a rational element, it must be the virtue of one of them,

namely of the part that forms opinions. 21 For opinion as well

as practical wisdom deals with things that can be other than
they are. However, it is not merely a rational characteristic
or trained ability. An indication (that it is something more
may be seen) in the fact that a trained ability of that kind
30 can be forgotten, whereas practical wisdom cannot.

6. (d) Intelligence

Since pure science or scientific knowledge is a basic con-

viction concerning universal and necessary truths, and since
everything demonstrable and all pure science begins from
fundamental principles (for science proceeds rationally), the
fundamental principle or starting point for scientific knowl-
edge cannot itself be the object either of science, of art, or
35 of practical wisdom. For what is known scientifically is demon-
strable,whereas art and practical wisdom are concerned with
1141a things that can be other than they are. Nor are these funda-
mental principles the objects of theoretical wisdom: for it is
the task of a man of theoretical wisdom to have a demonstra-
te) Because practical wisdom is itself a complete virtue or excellence,
while the excellence of art depends on the goodness or badness of its
product.
21 "Opinion" here corresponds to the "calculative element" in chap.
1: both are defined by reference to contingent facts, those which may be
Otherwise than they are.
7]
book six 155

tion for certain truths.- 2 Now, if scientific knowledge, practical

wisdom, theoretical wisdom, and intelligence are the faculties
by which we attain truth and by which we are never deceived
both in matters which can and in those matters which cannot be 5

other than they are; and if three of these-I am referring to

practical wisdom, scientific knowledge, and theoretical wisdom
—cannot be the faculty in question, we are left with the con-
clusion that it is intelligence that apprehends fundamental
principles.- 3

7. (e) Theoretical wisdom -4

We attribute "wisdom" in the arts to the most precise and

perfect masters of their skills: we attribute it to Phidias as a 10

sculptor in marble and to Polycletus as a sculptor in bronze.

22 In other words, the undemonstiable first or fundamental principles

cannot be the proper and complete object of theoretical wisdom; as the
next chapter shows, they are included within its sphere.
23 This brief statement becomes clearer in the light of Posterior
Analytics II. 19, 100b5-14:
Some of the intellectual characteristics by which we attain truth are
always truthful, while others, such as opinion and calculation, admit
of falsehood. Now, since (a) scientific knowledge and intelligence are
always truthful, and no other kind (of intellectual characteristic) is
more precise than scientific knowledge— except for intelligence; (b)
fundamental principles are more knowable than demonstrations; and (c)
all scientific knowledge involves reasoning; (it follows that) scientific
knowledge docs not apprehend fundamental principles, and since only
intelligence can be more truthful than scientific knowledge, it is
intelligence which apprehends the fundamental principles. This result
also follows from the fact that there cannot be demonstration of the
fundamental principle of demonstration, nor, consequently, scientific
knowledge of scientific knowledge.
24 As we shall see as this chapter progresses, Aristotle understands

by sophia the highest intellectual, and especially philosophical, excel-

lence of which the human mind is capable. However, before he reaches
this definition of sophia,he discusses some current uses of the term. In
popular usage, sophia appears in Greek to describe the skill of a
first

clever craftsman, and also of poets and artists, a concept which was then
extended to other fields of endeavor, e.g., to the itinerant teachers of
 156 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

In this sense we signify by "wisdom" nothing but excellence

of art or craftsmanship. However, we regard some men as
being wise in general, not in any partial sense or in some
other particular respect, as Homer says in the Margites:

15 The gods let him not be a digger or a ploughman

nor wise at anything. 25
It is, therefore, clear, that wisdom must be the most precise

and perfect form of knowledge. Consequently, a wise man

must not only know what follows from fundamental princi-
ples, but he must also have true knowledge of the funda-
mental principles themselves. Accordingly, theoretical wisdom
must comprise both intelligence and scientific knowledge. It
20 is science in its consummation, as it were, the science of the

things that are valued most highly.

For it would be strange to regard politics or practical wis-
dom as the highest kind of knowledge, when in fact man is not
the best thing in the universe. Surely, if "healthy" and "good"
mean one thing for men and another for fishes, whereas
"white" and "straight" always mean the same, "wise" must
mean the same for everyone, but "practically wise" will be
different. For each particular being ascribes practical wisdom
25 in matters relating to itself to that thing which observes its

interests well, and it will entrust itself to that thing. That is

the reason why people attribute practical wisdom even to some
animals— to all those which display a capacity of forethought
in matters relating to their own life.

It is also evident that theoretical wisdom is not the same

as politics. If we are to call "theoretical wisdom" the knowl-

rhetoric, the 'Sophists,' whose skill enabled them to sway— and thus
gain power over— their audience, and finally to the 'wisdom' of the
scientist and philosopher. For the sake of clarity, we translate the general
use of the term as 'wisdom' and the special sense which Aristotle gives
it as 'theoretical wisdom.'
25 The Margites was a mock-heroic poem, ascribed by the ancients to
Homer.
7] book six 157

edge of what is helpful to us, there will be many kinds of 30

wisdom. There is no single science that deals with what is
good for all living things any more than there is a single art
of medicine dealing with everything that is, but a different
science deals with each particular good. The argument that
man is makes no difference. There
the best of living things
are other things whose nature is much more divine than man's: 1141b
to take the most visible example only, the constituent parts of
the universe. 26
Our discussion has shown that theoretical wisdom comprises
both scientific knowledge and (apprehension by the) intelli-
gence of things which by their nature are valued most highly.
That is why it is said that men like Anaxagoras and Thales
have theoretical but not practical wisdom: when we see that 5

they do not know what is advantageous to them, we admit

that they know extraordinary, wonderful, difficult, and super-
human things, but call their knowledge useless because the
good they are seeking is not human.
Practical wisdom, on the other hand, is concerned with
human affairs and with matters about which deliberation is
possible. As we have said, the most characteristic function of
a man of practical wisdom is to deliberate well: no one de- 10

liberatesabout things that cannot be other than they are, nor

about things that are not directed to some end, an end that
is a good attainable by action. In an unqualified sense, that

man is good at deliberating who, by reasoning, can aim at

and hit the best thing attainable to man by action.
Nor does practical wisdom deal only with universals. It

must also be familiar with particulars, since

concerned it is 15
with action and action has to do with particulars. This ex-
plains why some men who have no scientific knowledge are
more adept in practical matters, especially if they have ex-
perience, than those who do have scientific knowledge. For if
26 That the sun and stars are meant is clear from Metaphysics E. 1,
1026al8 and Physics II. 4, 196a33, where the visible divine nature of
the stars is stressed.
 158 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

a person were to know that light meat is easily digested, and

hence wholesome, but did not know what sort of meat is light,
he will not produce health, whereas someone who knows that
27
20 poultry is light and wholesome is more likely to produce
health."
Now, practical wisdom is concerned with action. That
means that a person should have both (knowledge of uni-
versal and knowledge of particulars), or knowledge of par-
ticulars rather (than knowledge of universals). But here, too,
it seems, there is a supreme and comprehensive science in-
volved, (i.e., politics).

8. Practical wisdom and politics 29

Political wisdom 30 and same practical wisdom are both the

characteristic, but their essential aspect is not the same. There
are two kinds of wisdom concerning the state: the one, which
25 acts as practical wisdom supreme and comprehensive, is the
art of legislation; the other, which is practical wisdom as deal-
ing with particular facts, bears the name which, in everyday
speech. ) is common to both kinds, politics, and it is concerned
with action and deliberation. For a decree, ^unlike a law,
which lavs down general principles.^ is a matter for action, in-

asmuch as it is the last step (in the deliberative process). 31

-" I follow Burnet in rejecting Bvwater"s and Trendelenburg's brackets
around Kovcba /car
-^ The point here is that, in practical matters, a man who knows bv
experience that poultrv is wholesome is likely to be more successful
than a man who onlv has the scientific knowledge that light meat is
digestible and therefore wholesome, without knowing the particular
fact that poultry is light meat.
-9 In the following chapters. S-ll. Aristotle apparently digresses to a

discussion of other virtues, but in fact he develops and clarifies the

notion of practical wisdom bv contrasting it with similar or related
characteristics.
30 The Greek term here is politike, which we usuallv render as "polities'

in this translation: cf. Glossary. But since its juxtaposition with practical
wisdom here stresses that politics is for Aristotle (as for Plato) a branch
of knowledge, the variant "political wisdom* seems more appropriate here.
31 Cf. the discussion of deliberation in III. 3, especially 1 1 1 2b 1 1 -24.
8] book six 159

That is why only those who make decrees are said to engage
in politics, for they alone, like workmen, "do" things.'12
It is also commonly held that practical wisdom is primarily
concerned with one's own person, i.e., with the individual, 30
and it is this kind that bears the name "practical wisdom,"
which properly belongs to others as well. The other kinds are
called household management, legislation, and politics, the
33
last of which is subdivided into deliberative and judicial.

Now, knowing what is good for oneself is, to be sure, one

kind of knowledge; but it is very different from the other
kinds. A man who knows and concerns himself with his own 1142a
interests is regarded as a man of practical wisdom, while men
whose concern is politics are looked upon as busybodies.
Euripides' words are in this vein:

How can I be called "wise," who might have filled

a common soldier's place, free from all care,
sharing an equal lot ... ? 5
34
For those who reach too high and are too active. . . .

For people seek their own good and think that this is what
they should do. This opinion has given rise to the view that
it is such men who have practical wisdom. And yet, surely

one's own good cannot exist without household management

nor without a political system. Moreover, the problem of how 10

32 i.e., lawgivers and other men who are concerned with political wis-
dom supreme and comprehensive sense are not generally regarded
in the
as being engaged in politics. The analogy to workmen represents of
course not Aristotle's view, which vigorously distinguishes action from
production, but rather reflects a widespread attitude toward politics.
33 In Athens, "deliberative" politics referred to matters debated in the

Council and the Popular Assembly, and "judicial" politics to matters

argued in the lawcourts.
34 These lines come from the prologue of Euripides' lost Philoctetes
(frgg. 787 and 782 Nauck2) and were spoken by Odysseus. The third line
quoted here runs in its entirety: "sharing an equal lot with the most
wise." Then, after some missing lines, there comes a passage of which the
last line quoted here is the second:

Ah, what is more vainglorious than man?

For those who reach too high and are too active
we honor as the leaders in the state.
 160 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

to manage one's own affairs properly needs clarification and

remains to be examined.
An indication that what we have said is correct is the fol-
lowing common While young men do indeed
observation.
become good geometricians and mathematicians and attain
theoretical wisdom in such matters, they apparently do not
attain practical wisdom. The reason is that practical wisdom
is concerned with particulars as well (as with universals), and

knowledge of particulars comes from experience. But a young

15 man has no experience, for experience is the product of a long
time. In fact, one might also raise the question why it is that
a boy may become a mathematician but not a philosopher or a
natural scientist. The answer may be that the objects of mathe-
matics are the result of abstraction, whereas the fundamental
principles of philosophy and natural science come from experi-
ence. Young men can assert philosophical and scientific princi-
ples but can have no genuine convictions about them, whereas
20 there is no obscurity about the essential definitions in mathe-
matics.
Moreover, in our deliberations error is possible as regards
either the universal principle or the particular fact: we may
be unaware either that all heavy water is bad, or that the
particular water we are faced with is heavy.
That practical wisdom is not scientific knowledge is (there-
fore) evident. As we stated, 35 it is concerned with ultimate
particulars, since the actions to be performed are ultimate
25 particulars. This means that it is at the opposite pole from
intelligence. For the intelligence grasps limiting terms and
definitions that cannot be attained by reasoning, while practi-
cal wisdom has as its object the ultimate particular fact, of
which there perception but no scientific knowledge. This
is

perception not the kind with which (each of our five senses
is

apprehends) its proper object, 36 but the kind with which we

35 See the end of chap. 7, 1141M4-22.
36 Aristotle's distinction between the various kinds of perception is

most concisely stated in De Anima II. 6, 418a7-20:

In discussing the various kinds of sense perception, we must first deal

with the objects of the senses. The term "object of sense perception"
9] BOOK SIX 161

perceive that in mathematics the triangle is the ultimate fig-

ure. 87 For in this direction, too, we shall have to reach a stop. 38

But this (type of mathematical cognition) is more truly per-
ception than practical wisdom, and it is different in kind from 30
the other (type of perception which deals with the objects
proper to the various senses).

9. Practical wisdom and excellence in deliberation

There is a difference between investigating and deliberat-

ing: to deliberate is to investigate a particular kind of object.
We must also try to grasp what excellence in deliberation is:
whether it is some sort of scientific knowledge, opinion,
shrewd guessing, or something generically different from any
of these.
Now, scientific knowledge it is certainly not: 39 people do
not investigate matters they already know. But good delibera- 1142b

is used of three kinds of object. Two of these, we say, we perceive

directly and one indirectly. The first of the two (kinds of object which
we perceive directly) is the object proper to each given sense, while
the second kind of object is common to all the senses. By "proper
object" I mean an object which cannot possibly be perceived by any
other sense and about which a person cannot possibly be mistaken.
For example, sight has color as its proper object, hearing has sound,
and taste has flavor. Touch, it is true, has a number of different ob-
jects. At any rate, each sense draws distinctions in its own sphere and
makes no mistake about the fact that it is a color or that it is a sound,
though it may go wrong in identifying what or where the colored
object is, or what object is making the sound or where it is located.
These are called objects proper to a particular sense. The objects
common to all senses, on the other hand, are motion, rest, number,
shape, and size, since these are not proper to any one sense but com-
mon to them all: a motion, for example, is perceived by both touch and
sight.

37 1 do not follow Bywater in bracketing cv roi«? fiaOrjfjLaTLKois ('in

mathematics'), since Aristotle's point here seems to be that every poly-

gonal figure in geometry can be resolved into a number of triangles, but
that the triangle in turn cannot be resolved into a simpler figure.
38 Cf. the statement about deliberation above, III. 3, 1112b20-24 and
note 12.
39 Here, as in most of the following paragraph, Aristotle seems to be
taking issue with Plato, who had identified the two, e.g., in Republic IV.
428b.
 162 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

tion a kind of deliberation, and when a person deliberates

is

he engaged in investigating and calculating (things not yet

is

decided). Nor yet is it shrewd guessing. For shrewd guessing

involves no reasoning and proceeds quickly, whereas delibera-
tion takes a long time. As the saying goes, the action which
follows deliberation should be quick, but deliberation itself
5 should be slow. Furthermore, quickness of mind is not the same
as excellence in deliberation: quickness of mind is a kind of
shrewd guessing. Nor again is excellence in deliberation any
form of opinion at all. But since a person who deliberates badly
makes mistakes, while he who deliberates well deliberates
correctly, it clearly follows that excellence in deliberation is

some kind of correctness. But it is correctness neither of sci-

entific knowledge nor of opinion. There cannot be correctness
10 of scientific knowledge any more than there can be error of
scientific knowledge; and correctness of opinion is truth. More-
over, anything that is an object of opinion is already fixed and
determined, (while deliberation deals with objects which re-
main to be determined). Still, excellence in deliberation does
involve reasoning, and we are, consequently, left with the
alternative that it is correctness of (a process of) thought; for
thinking is not yet an affirmation. For while opinion is no
longer a process of investigation but has reached the point
of affirmation, a person who deliberates, whether he does so
15 well or badly,is still engaged in investigating and calculating
something (not yet determined).
Good deliberation is a kind of correctness of deliberation.
We must, therefore, first investigate what deliberation is and
with what objects it is concerned. 40 Since the term "correct-
ness" used in several different senses, it is clear that not
is

every kind of correctness in deliberation (is excellence in

deliberation). For (1) a morally weak or a bad man will, as a
result of calculation, attain the goal which he has proposed
to himself as the right goal 41 to attain. He will, therefore,

40 As Aristotle proceeds to discuss correctness and not deliberation,

many editors bracket this sentence. Actually, deliberation has already been
discussed in III. 3 and above, chap. 5, 1110a31-b4.
41 Instead of i&eiv preserved by the majority of manuscripts, I read
9] book six 163

have deliberated correctly, but what he will get out of it will

be a very bad thing. But the result of good deliberation is 20
generally regarded as a good thing. It is this kind of correct-
ness of deliberation which is good deliberation, a correctness
that attains what is good.
But (2) it is something good by a
also possible to attain
false syllogism, i.e., but to arrive
to arrive at the right action,
by the wrong means when the middle term 42
at it is false.

Accordingly, this process, which makes us attain the right goal

but not by the right means, is still not good deliberation. 25
Moreover, (3) it is possible that one man attains his goal by
deliberating for a long time, while another does so quickly.
Now, long deliberation, too, is not as such good deliberation:
excellence in deliberation is correctness in assessing what is
beneficial, i.e., correctness in assessing the goal, the manner,
and the time.
Again, (4) it is possible for a person to have deliberated
well either in general, in an unqualified sense, or in relation
to some particular end. Good deliberation in the unqualified
sense of course brings success in relation to what is, in an 30
unqualified sense, the end, (i.e., in relation to the good life).

Excellence in deliberation as directed toward some particular

end, however, brings success in the attainment of some par-
ticular end.
Thus we may conclude that, since it is a mark of men of
practical wisdom to have deliberated well, 43 excellence in de-
liberation will be correctness in assessing what is conducive
to the end, concerning which practical wisdom gives a true
conviction.

with Burnet, Rackhain, and Dirlmeier 8elv, which is preserved in two

fifteenth-century manuscripts and which seems to underlie the medieval
Latin translation of the Nic. Eth. by Robert Grosseteste.
•*2 Aristotle's terminology is a little loose here. Strictly speaking, the
middle term of a syllogism can be neither true nor false. What he means
is that even when the middle term does not provide a true link between

the premises, the conclusion may still be true. Cf. Prior Analytics II. 2,
53b4-10, and 4, 57a40-bl7.
43 See above, chap. 5, 1140a25-28, and chap. 7, 1141b8-12.
 164 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

10. Practical wisdom and understanding 44

Understanding, i.e., excellence in understanding, the quality

which makes us call certain people "men of understanding"
1143a and "men of good understanding," is in general not identical
with scientific knowledge or with opinion. For (if it were
opinion,) everyone would be a man of understanding, (since
everyone forms opinions). Nor is it one of the particular
branches of science, in the sense in which medicine, for ex-
ample, is the science of matters pertaining to health, or geom-
etry the science which deals with magnitudes. For under-
standing is concerned neither with eternal and unchangeable
5 truth nor with anything and everything that comes into being
(and passes away again). It deals with matters concerning
which doubt and deliberation are possible. Accordingly,
though its sphere is the same as that of practical wisdom,
understanding and practical wisdom are not the same. Practi-
cal wisdom issues commands: its end is to tell us what we
ought to do and what we ought not to do. Understanding, on
the other hand, only passes judgment. 45 (There is no difference
between understanding and excellence in understanding:) for
10 excellence in understanding is the same as understanding,
and men of understanding are men of good understanding.
Thus understanding is neither possession nor acquisition of
practical wisdom. Just as learning is called "understanding"
when a man makes use of his faculty of knowledge, 46 so (we
speak of "understanding") when it implies the use of one's
faculty of opinion in judging statements made by another
44 The Greek term synesis, 'understanding,' denotes primarily the com-
prehension of what someone else has said, but it also contains the notion
of understanding practical problems.
This distinction between imperative and critical faculties is taken
45
from Plato, Statesman 2C0b, and corresponds in part to Aristotle's dis-
tinction between practical and theoretical cognition.
40 The Greek manthanein means both 'to learn' and 'to understand.'
Cf. the two meanings of 'learn' in English: (a) "I learn a new language"
and (b) "I learn that you have been ill."
11] BOOK SIX 165

person about matters which belong to the realm of practical

wisdom— and in judging such statements rightly, for good 15

understanding means that the judgment is right. It is from this

act of learning or understanding (what someone else says)
that the term "understanding" as predicated of "men
good of
understanding" is derived. For we frequently use the words
"learning" and "understanding" synonymously.

11. Practical wisdom and good sense

As for what is called "good sense," 47 the quality which

makes us say of a person that he has the sense to forgive
others, (i.e., sympathetic understanding,} and that he has good
sense, this is a correct judgment of what is fair or equitable. 20
This is indicated by the fact that we attribute to an equitable
man especially sympathetic understanding and that we say
that it is fair, in certain cases, to have the sense to forgive.
Sympathetic understanding is a correct critical sense or judg-
ment of what is fair; and a correct judgment is a true one.
All these characteristics, as one would expect, tend toward 25
the same goal. We attribute good sense, understanding, practi-
cal wisdom, and intelligence to the same persons, and in say-
ing that they have good sense, (we imply) at the same time that
they have a mature intelligence and that they are men of practi-
cal wisdom and understanding. For what these capacities (have
in common is that they are) all concerned with ultimate par-
ticular facts. To say that a person has good judgment in mat-

47 English has no single equivalent to express the whole range of gnomS.

The most common use of the term describes a particular 'insight' or
'judgment/ especially as it is related to matters affecting the conduct of
one'slife. But the term may denote both a particular judgment and a

man's ability to pass good judgments, i.e., his 'judgment' in general or

what we might call 'sound understanding.' In addition, a gnome is the
equivalent of 'maxim,' 'adage.' What makes a translation here especially
difficultis the fact that Aristotle relates gnome to several
cognates, such
as syngnome, 'forgiveness,' 'pardon,' 'sympathetic understanding' (liter-
ally, 'judgment with' or 'on the side of another person) and eugnomon,

'well-judging' in the sense of 'kindly,' 'well disposed.'

 166 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

30 ters of practical wisdom implies that he is understanding and

has good sense or that he has sympathetic understanding; for
equitable acts are common to all good men in their relation
with someone else. Now, all matters of action are in the sphere
of the particulars and ultimates. Not only must a man of
practicalwisdom take cognizance of particulars, but under-
standing and good sense, too, deal with matters of action, and
35 matters of action are ultimates. As for intelligence, it deals
with ultimates at both ends of the scale. It is intelligence, not
reasoning, that has as its objects primary terms and defini-
1143b tions 48 as well as ultimate particulars. Intelligence grasps, on
the one hand, the unchangeable, primary terms and concepts
for demonstrations; on the other hand, in questions of action,
it grasps the ultimate, contingent fact and the minor prem-
ise. 49 For it is particular facts that form the starting points
or principles for (our knowledge of) the goal of action: uni-
versal arise out of particulars. Hence one must have percep-
5 tion of particular facts, and this perception is intelligence. 50
That is why these characteristics are regarded as natural
endowments and, although no one is provided with theoretical
wisdom by nature, we do think that men have good sense,
understanding, and intelligence by nature. An indication of
this is that we think of these characteristics as depending on
different stages of life, and that at a given stage of life a person
acquires intelligence and good sense: the implication is that
48 Cf. above, chap. 8, 1142a25-26, where we also find a contrast between
nous or 'intelligence,' the faculty of immediate intellectual insight, and
logos, literally 'speech,' i.e., the process of discursive reasoning.
49 For intelligence as the faculty which grasps first principles ("terms

and concepts for demonstration"), see above, chap. 6. In a practical syl-

logism, the minor premise will be an immediate fact of experience, also
perceived by the intelligence.
so I.e., attain the end— happiness— only by discovering the gen-
we can
eral rules ofmoral conduct, and these, in turn, rest on the immediate
apprehension by intelligence of particular moral facts. For the general
epistemological doctrine of universals arising out of particulars, see Pos-
terior Analytics II. 19.
12] book six 167

(human) nature is the cause. 51 Therefore, we ought to pay as

much attention to the sayings and opinions, undemonstrated

though they are, of wise and experienced older men as we do
to demonstrated truths. For experience has given such men an
eye with which they can see correctly. 52
We have now completed our discussion of what practical and
theoretical wisdom are; we have described the sphere in which 15

each operates, and we have shown that each is the excellence

of a different part of the soul. 53

12. The use of theoretical and practical wisdom

One might raise some questions about the usefulness of

these two virtues. Theoretical wisdom, (as we have described
it,) will study none of the things that make a man happy, for
it is concerned with the sphere of coming-to-be
not at all 20
(but only with unchanging realities). Practical wisdom, on the
other hand, is concerned with this sphere, but for what pur-
pose do we need wisdom deals
it? (1) It is true that practical
with what is just, noble, man; and it is doing
and good for
such things that characterizes a man as good. But our ability
to perform such actions is in no way enhanced by knowing
them, since the virtues are characteristics, (that is to say, fixed
capacities for action, acquired by habit). The same also ap-
plies, after all, to matters of health and well-being (not in the 25
sense of "producing health and well-being" but in the sense
51 In the
manuscripts there follows the sentence: "Intelligence is, there-
fore,both starting point and end; for demonstrations start with ultimate 10
terms and have ultimate facts as their objects." As was first pointed out
by Rassow, the sentence is out of place here, and, if it is to be retained
at all, it should follow "... and this perception is intelligence" at the end
of the preceding paragraph.
52 The "eye given by experience" is of course nous, 'intelligence.'
53 This brings us back to the distinction of the two rational parts of
the soul in chap. 1 above: theoretical wisdom is the perfection of the
faculty which has necessary truths as its object, while the faculty of prac-
tical wisdom (like that of art) is concerned with contingent objects.
 168 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

of "being healthy and well" as the manifestation of a physical

condition or a characteristic): our ability to perform actions
(which show that we are healthy and well) is in no way en-
hanced by a mastery of the science of medicine or of physical
training.

(2) But if we are to wisdom

say that the purpose of practical
is not to know what and good, but to become
is just, noble,
just, noble, and good, it would be of no use at all to a man
who is already good. Moreover, it is of no use to those who do
30 not have virtue, for it makes no difference whether they have
practical wisdom themselves or listen to others who have it.
It is quite sufficient to take the same attitude as we take to-

ward health: we want to be healthy, yet we do not study

medicine.
(3) In addition, it would seem strange wisdom, if practical
though (intrinsically) inferior to theoretical wisdom, should
surpass it in authority, because that which produces a thing
35 rules and directs it.

These, then, are the questions we must discuss: so far we

have only stated them as problems.
1144a First of then, we should insist that both theoretical
all,

and practical wisdom are necessarily desirable in themselves,

even if neither of them produces anything. For each one of
them is the virtue of a different part of the soul. 54
Secondly, they do in fact produce something: theoretical
wisdom produces happiness, not as medicine produces health,
but as health itself makes a person healthy. 55 For since theo-
5 retical wisdom is one portion of virtue in its entirety, pos-
sessing and actualizing it makes a man happy. (For happiness,
as we have seen (I. 7) consists in the activity of virtue.)

54 i.e., of the scientific and of the calculative part of the soul respec-
tively; cf. above, chap. 1, 1139a3-17, and the end of chap. 11.
55 Literally: "as health produces health." The point is that theoretical
wisdom is the formal but not the efficient cause of happiness (see p. 148,
note 8): it produces happiness not as something different from itself (as

the knowledge of a physician is the efficient cause of health in the pa-

tient), but as the formal principle or cause which makes a thing what it

is (as "health" makes a man healthy).

12] book six 169

In the third place, a man fulfills his proper function only

by way of practical wisdom and moral excellence or virtue:
virtue makes us aim at the right target, and practical wisdom
makes us use the right means. The fourth part of the soul,
the nutritive, 50 does not have a virtue (which makes man ful-
fill proper function), since
his it does not play any role in the 10

decision to act or not to act.

Finally, the argument has to be met that our ability to per-
form noble and just acts is in no way enhanced by practical
wisdom. We have to begin a little further back and take the
following as our starting point. It is our contention 57 that
people may perform just acts without actually being just men,
as in the case of people who do what has been laid down by
the laws but do so either involuntarily or through ignorance 15

or for an ulterior motive, and not for the sake of performing

just acts. (Such persons are not just men) despite the fact that
they act the way they should, and perform all the actions
which a morally good man ought to perform. On the other
hand, it seems that it is possible for a man to be of such a
character that he performs each particular act in such a way
as to make himgood man— I mean that his acts are due to
a
choice and are performed for the sake of the acts themselves.
Now, it is virtue which makes our choice right. It is not virtue, 20
however, but a different capacity, which determines the steps
which, in the nature of the case, must be taken to implement
this choice.
We must stop for a moment to make this point clearer.
There exists a capacity 58 which is the
called "cleverness,"
power to perform those steps which are conducive to a goal we 25
have set for ourselves and to attain that goal. If the goal is

50 Of the other three parts of the soul, two have been mentioned in
note 54 above. The third part is the seat of desire; cf. I. 13, 1102bl3-31.
The virtue of the scientific part wisdom, of the calculative
is intellectual
part practical wisdom, and of desire the moral virtues. For the statement
that the nutritive part has no virtue, see also I. 7, 1097b34-1098al, and
13, 1102bl2.
57 See V. 6, 1134al7-23.
58 For the meaning of dynamis ('capacity'), see Glossary.
 170 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

noble, cleverness deserves praise; if the goal is base, cleverness

is knavery. That is why men of practical wisdom are often
described as "clever" and "knavish." But in fact this capacity
(alone) is not practical wisdom, although practical wisdom
does not exist without it. Without virtue or excellence, this
30 eye of the soul, (intelligence,) does not acquire the character-
istic (of practical wisdom): that is what we have just stated
and it is obvious. For the syllogisms which express the princi-
ples initiating action 59 run: "Since the end, or the highest
good, is such-and-such . . . "—whatever it may be; what it really
is does not matter for our present argument. But whatever
the true end may be, only a good man can judge it correctly.
35 For wickedness distorts and causes us to be completely mis-
taken about the fundamental principles of action. Hence it is
clear that a man cannot have practical wisdom unless he is
good.

13. Practical wisdom and moral virtue

1 144b Accordingly, we must also re-examine virtue or excellence.

Virtue offers a close analogy to the relation that exists be-
tween practical wisdom and cleverness. Just as these two
qualities are not identical but similar, so we find the same
relation between natural virtue and virtue in the full sense.
It seems that the various kinds of character inhere in all of

5 us, somehow or other, by nature. We tend to be just, capable

of self-control, and to show
our other character traits from
all

i:he time of our birth. Yet we still seek something more, the
good in a fuller sense, and the possession of these traits in an-
other way. For it is true that childrenand beasts are endowed
with natural qualities or characteristics, but it is evident that
without intelligence these are harmful. This much, to be sure,
10 we do seem to notice: as in the case of a mighty body which,
when it moves without vision, comes down with a mighty fall
because it cannot see, so it is under discussion.
in the matter

5« For the practical syllogism, see p. 55, note 3; see also pp. 150-51, note 13.
13] BOOK SIX 171

(If a man acts blindly, i.e., using his natural virtue alone, he
will fail;) but once he acquires intelligence, it makes a great

difference in his action. At that point, the natural character-

istic will become that virtue in the full sense which it pre-
viously resembled.
Consequently, just as there exist two kinds of quality, clever-
ness and practical wisdom, in that part of us which forms 15

opinions, (i.e., in the calculative element,} so also there are

two kinds of quality in the moral part of us, natural virtue
and virtue in the full sense. Now virtue in the full sense can-
not be attained without practical wisdom. That is why some
people maintain that all the virtues are forms of practical
wisdom, and why Socrates' approach to the subject was partly
right and partly wrong. He was wrong in believing that all the
virtues are forms of wisdom, but right in saying that there is 20
no virtue without wisdom. 00 This is indicated by the fact that
all the current definitions of virtue, 01 after naming the char-
acteristic and its objects, add that it is a characteristic "guided
by right reason." Now right reason is that which is determined
by practical wisdom. So we see that these thinkers all have
some inkling that virtue is a characteristic of this kind,
namely, a characteristic guided by practical wisdom. 25
But we must go a beyond
little that. Virtue or excellence
is not only a characteristic which is guided by right reason,

CO Socrates' habitual identification of virtue and knowledge is too well

known and too frequent in the works of both Plato and Xenophon to
require references here. However, it is interesting to observe that, while
different words for 'knowledge' or 'wisdom' are attributed by Plato to
Socrates in different contexts, Socrates is made to identify virtue with
phronesis in Plato, Meno 88a-89a, while later in the Phaedo 69a-b he
states only that true virtue needs phronesis. For Aristotle, it is the first
formula which is most characteristic of Socrates. Plato's statement in the
Phaedo comes very close to Aristotle's own position.
ci The reference is to the doctrines of Plato's successors in the Academy.
It is interesting to observe how close Aristotle's own doctrine is to that
which he ascribes to the Platonists. In discussing moral virtue, he and his
rivals are united by their loyalty to the Socratic tradition as represented
in Plato's dialogues.
 172 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

but also a characteristic which is united with right reason; and

right reason in moral matters practical wisdom. 02 In other
is

words, while Socrates believed that the virtues are rational

principles— he said that all of them are forms of knowledge—
we, on the other hand, think that they are united with a
30 rational principle.
Our discussion, then, has made it clear that it is impossible
to be good in the word without practical
full sense of the
wisdom or to be a man of practical wisdom without moral
excellence or virtue. Moreover, in this way we can also refute
the dialectical argument which might be used to prove that
the virtues exist independently of one another. The same
individual, it might be argued, is not equally well-endowed

by nature for all the virtues, with the result that at a given
35 point he will have acquired one virtue but not yet another.
In the case of the natural virtues this may be true, but it can-
not happen in the case of those virtues which entitle a man to
1145a be called good in an unqualified sense. For in the latter case,
as soon as he possesses this single virtue of practical wisdom,
he will also possess all the rest.
It is now clear (;3 that we should still need practical wis-

dom, even if it had no bearing on action, because it is the

virtue of a part of our soul. But it is also clear that (it does
have an important bearing on action, since) no choice will be
5 right without practical wisdom and virtue. For virtue de-
termines the end, and practical wisdom makes us do what is
conducive to the end.
Still, practical wisdom has no authority over theoretical
64 any more than the
wisdom or the better part of our soul
art of medicine has authority over health. (Just as medicine
62 i.e., right reasonis not only an external standard of action, but it

also lives in us and makes us virtuous.

63 Here begins a summary of the conclusions reached in chaps. 12 and
13.
64 That is, the scientific or cognitive part in the soul, the rational ele-
ment which grasps necessary and permanent truths; see above, chap. 1.

The use of this important distinction, made at the opening of this book,
at its close here illustrates the unity of Book VI.
13] book six 173

does not use health but makes the provisions to secure it,

so) practical wisdom does not use theoretical wisdom but

makes the provisions to secure it. It issues commands to attain
it, but it does not issue them to wisdom itself. To say the
contrary would be like asserting that politics governs the 10
gods, because it issues commands about everything in the
state, (including public worship).
 BOOK VII

1. Moral strength and moral weakness: their relation to virtue

and vice and current beliefs about them

15 We have to make a fresh start now by pointing out that the

qualities of character to be avoided are three in kind: vice,
moral weakness, and brutishness. The opposites of two of these
are obvious: one is called virtue or excellence and the other
moral strength. The most fitting description of the opposite
of brutishness would be to say that it is superhuman virtue,
20 a kind of heroic and divine excellence; just as Homer has
Priam say about Hector that he was of surpassing excellence:

for he did not seem like

one who was child of a mortal man, but of god. 1
Therefore, if, as is said, an excess of virtue can change a man
into a god, the characteristic opposed to brutishness must
25 evidently be something of this sort. For just as vice and virtue
do not no more can they exist in a god.
exist in brute beasts,
The quality of gods is something more worthy of honor than
(human) virtue or excellence, and the quality of a brute is
generically different from (human) vice.
If it is rare to find a man who is divine— as the Spartans,
for example, customarily use the attribute "divine man" to
express an exceptionally high degree of admiration for a per-
30 son— it is just as rare that a brute is found among men. It does

happen, particularly among barbarians, but in some cases

disease and physical disability can make a man brutish. "Brut-
ishness" is also used as a term of opprobrium for those who
exceed all other men in vice.
But we must defer until later 2 some mention of this kind
of disposition, and vice has already been discussed. 3 We must
i Homer, Iliad XXIV. 258-259, tr. Richmond Lattimore.
- See below, chap. 5.

3 In the discussion of the moral virtues in Books II-Y.

174
 BOOK SEVEN 175

now discuss moral weakness, softness, and effeminacy, and 35

alsomoral strength and tenacity. We will do so on the assump-
tion that each of these two sets of characteristics is neither
identical with virtue or with wickedness nor generically differ- 1145b
ent from it, but different species respectively of the covering
genera, (namely, qualities to be sought and qualities to be
avoided).
The proper procedure will be the one we have followed in
our treatment of other subjects: we must present phenomena,
(that is, the observed facts of moral life and the current be-
liefs about them,) and, after first stating the problems in-

herent in these, we must, if possible, demonstrate the validity

of all the beliefs about these matters, 4 and, if not, the validity 5

of most of them or of the most authoritative. For if the diffi-

culties are resolved and current beliefs are left intact, we shall
have proved their validity sufficiently.
Now the current beliefs are as follows: (1) Moral strength
and tenacity are qualities of great moral value and deserve
praise, while moral weakness and softness are base and de-
serve blame. (2) A man who is morally strong tends to abide 10

by the results of his calculation, and a morally weak man

tends to abandon them. (3) A morally weak man does, on the
basis of emotion, what he knows to be base, whereas a morally
«trong man, knowing that certain appetites are base, refuses
to follow them and accepts the guidance of reason. (4) Though a
self-controlled man is called morally strong and tenacious, some
people' affirm and others deny (the converse, namely,) that 15

a morally strong person is self-controlled in every respect; like-

wise, some people call a self-indulgent person "morally weak"
and a morally weak person "self-indulgent" without discrim-
inating between the two, while others say that they are differ-
4 'Matters' here translates the Greek word pathos, which we usually
render as 'emotion' or 'affect.' Here, however, it is used in a loose and
general sense to include the whole class of moral phenomena. In other
words, Aristotle does not mean to deny here that the qualities enumer-
ated above are lasting characteristics (hexeis). Tor the methodological im-
portance of this section for Aristotle's ethical doctrine, sec Introduction,
pp. xx-xxi.
 176 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

ent. (5) Sometimes it is said that a man of practical wisdom

cannot possibly be morally weak, and sometimes people who
have practical wisdom and who are clever are said to be
morally weak. (6) Finally, it is said that moral weakness is
shown even in anger and in the pursuit of honor and profit.
20 These, then, are the opinions commonly heard.

2.Problems in the current beliefs about moral strength and

moral weakness

The problems we might raise are these. (As to (3):) how

can a man be morally weak in his actions, when his basic as-
sumption is what he should do)? Some people
correct (as to
claim that it is impossible for him to be morally weak if he

has knowledge (of what he ought to do). Socrates, for example,

believed that it would be strange if, when a man possesses
knowledge, something else should overpower it and drag it
25 about like a slave. 5 In fact, Socrates was completely opposed to
the view (that a man may know what is right but do what is
wrong), and did not believe that moral weakness exists. He
claimed that no one acts contrary to what is best in the con-
viction (that what he is doing is bad), but through ignorance
(of the fact that it is bad). 6
Now this theory is plainly at variance with the observed
facts, and one ought to investigate the emotion (involved in
the acts of a morallyweak man): if it comes about through
ignorance, what manner of ignorance is it? For evidently a
man who is morally weak in his actions does not think (that
SO he ought to act the way he does) before he is in the grip of
emotion.
There are some people 7 who accept only certain points
(of Socrates' theory),but reject others. They agree that nothing
is better or more powerful than knowledge, but they do not

5 Plato, Protagoras 352b-c.

6 Cf., for example, Xenophon, Memorabilia III. 9. 4-5.

7 Plato's Academy are meant.

followers in the
2] BOOK SEVEN 177

agree that no one acts contrary to what he thought was the

better thing to do. Therefore, they say, a morally weak person
does not have knowledge but opinion when he is overpowered 35
by pleasures.
However, if it really is opinion and not knowledge, if, in
other words, the basic conviction which resists (the emotion)
is not strong but weak, as it is when people are in doubt, we 1146a
can forgive a man for not sticking to his opinions in the face
of strong appetites. But we do not forgive wickedness or any-
thing else that deserves blame (as moral weakness does. Hence

it must be something stronger than opinion which is over-

powered). But does that mean that it is practical wisdom 8

which resists (the appetite)? This, after all, is the strongest (kind
of conviction). But that would be absurd: for it would mean 5

that the same man will have practical wisdom and be morally
weak at the same time, and there is no one who would assert
that it is the mark of a man of practical wisdom to perform
voluntarily the basest actions. In addition, it has been shown
before that a man of practical wisdom is a man of action 9 —
for he is concerned with ultimate particulars — and that 10

he possesses the other virtues. 11

Furthermore, (as regards (4)): if being a morally strong per-
son involves having strong and base appetites, a self-controlled 10

man be morally strong nor a morally strong man

will not
is out of character for a self-controlled per-
self-controlled. It
son to have excessive or base appetites. Yet a morally strong
man certainly must have such appetites: for if the appetites are
good, the characteristic which prevents him from following
them is bad, and that would mean that moral strength is not
8 The point is this: if the kind of conviction a morally weak man has
is neither knowledge nor a weak conviction, it must be a strong convic-
tion, and practical wisdom is such a conviction, cf. VI. 9, 1142b33. Cf. also
De Anima III. 3, 427b24-26, where knowledge, opinion, practical wisdom,
and their opposites are described as hypoltpseis ('convictions').
9 See VI. 5, 1140b4-6.
io See VI. 7, 1141bl4-22; 8, 1142a23-30.

11 See VI. 13, 1144b30-1145a2.

 178 NICOMACHEAN £THICS [CH.

always morally good. If, on the other hand, our appetites are
15 weak and not nothing extraordinary in resisting
base, there is

them, nor is it a great achievement if they are base and weak. 12

Again, (to take (1) and (2),) if moral strength makes a per-
son abide by any and every opinion, it is a bad thing; for
example, if it makes him persist in a false opinion. And if
moral weakness makes a man abandon any and every opinion,
moral weakness will occasionally be morally good, as, for
example, in the case of Neoptolemus in Sophocles' Philoctetes.
20 Neoptolemus deserves praise when he does not abide by the
resolution which Odysseus had persuaded him to adopt, be-
cause it gives him pain to tell a lie. 13

Further, (concerning (1) and (3),) the sophistic argument

presents a problem. The Sophists want to refute their op-
ponents by leading them to conclusions which contradict
generally accepted facts. Their purpose is to have success
bring them the reputation of being clever, and the syllogism
which results only becomes a problem or quandary (for their
opponents). For the mind is in chains when, because it is

i- The problem here is difficult to render in English, but quite clear

in the Greek. The point is that sophron ('self-controlled') and enkrates
('morally strong') refer not only to different virtues but to essentially dif-
ferent types of personality. A sophron is well-balanced through-and-
through; he gives the impression of 'self-control' without effort or strain.
The enkrates, on the other hand, has an intense and passionate nature
which he is, indeed, strong enough to control, but not without a struggle.
His 'moral strength' resides in his victory; the sophron's 'self-control'
makes a struggle unnecessary.
13 For Odysseus' persuasion, sec Sophocles, Philoctetes 51-122, and for

Neoptolemus' refusal to lie, lines 895-916. Burnet quotes L. Campbell's

excellent summary of the points relevant here:

But Odysseus knew that Philoctetes would not listen to him, and would
be too proud to return after such treatment. Therefore he had recourse
to guile, and persuaded Neoptolemus to second him by false pretences.
The interest of the drama lies in the gradual effect produced upon the
heart of the boy by the sulferings of Philoctetes, by his frank belief in
the fictitious tale, by his open-hearted friendship, and by his unbounded
trust in one who is deceiving him; until at length, in spite of the
strongest motives, it becomes a moral impossibility for Neoptolemus to
persevere in his attempt.
2] BOOK SEVEN 179

dissatisfied with the conclusion it has reached, it wishes not 25

to stand still, while on the other hand its inability to resolve
the argument makes forward movement impossible. Now, they
have one argument which leads to the conclusion that folly
combined with moral weakness is virtue. This is the way it
runs: (if a man is both foolish and morally weak,) he acts
contrary to his conviction because of his moral weakness; but
(because of his folly,) his conviction is that good things are
bad and that he ought not to do them. Therefore, (acting 30
contrary to his conviction,) he will do what is good and not
what is bad.
A further problem (arises from (2) and (4)). A person who,
in his actions, pursues, and prefers what is pleasant, convinced
or persuaded (that it is good), 14 would seem to be better than
one who acts the same way not on the basis of calculation, but
because of moral weakness. For since he may be persuaded to
change his mind, he can be cured more easily. To a morally
weak man, on the other hand, applies the proverb, "When
water chokes you, what can you wash it down with?" For if 35
he had been persuaded to act the way he does, he would have
stopped acting that way when persuaded to change his mind. 1146b
But as it is, though persuaded that he ought to do one thing,
he nevertheless does another. 15
Finally, if everything is the province of moral weakness and
moral strength, who would be morally weak in the unqualified
sense of the word? No one has every form of moral weakness,
but we do say of some people that they are morally weak in
an unqualified sense. 5
These are the sort of problems that arise. Some of the con-
flicting opinions must be removed and others must be left
intact. For the solution of a problem is the discovery (of
truth).

H I.e., a self-indulgent man.

15 I Ramsaucr in reading, vvv 8c a\\a Trtirinr^ivo^ ovBlv yrrov
follow
aAAa TTfH).TT€i, and reject Hywater's bracket around the second uAAa.
 180 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

3. Some problems solved: moral weakness and knowledge

Our first then, to examine (1) whether morally
step
is,

weak people knowingly or not, and, if knowingly, in what

act
sense. Secondly, (2) we must establish the kind of questions
with which a morally weak and a morally strong man are
10 concerned. I mean, are they concerned with all pleasure and
pain or only with certain distinct kinds of them? Is a morally
strong person the same as a tenacious person or are they dif-
ferent? Similar questions must also be asked about all other
matters germane to this study.
The starting point of our investigation is the question (a)
whether the morally strong man and the morally weak man
15 have their distinguishing features in the situations with which
they are concerned or in their manner ^of reacting to the situa-
tion). What I mean is this: does a morally weak person owe
his character to certain situations (to which he reacts), or to

the manner which he reacts), or to both? Our second ques-

(in

tion (b) is whether or not moral weakness and moral strength

are concerned with all ^situations and feelings. The answer to
both these questions is that) a man who is morally weak in
the unqualified sense is not (sc described because of his re-

20 action' to every situation, but only to those situations in which

also a self-indulgent man may get involved. Xor is he morally
weak because of the mere fact of his relationship to these situa-
tions, (namely, that he yields to temptation). In that case

moral weakness would be the same as self-indulgence. Instead,

his moral weakness is denned by the manner (in which he
yields'. For a self-indulgent person is led on by his own

choice, since he believes that he should always pursue the

pleasure of the moment. A morally weak man, on the other
hand, does not think he should, but pursues it, nonetheless.
(1) The contention that it is true opinion rather than
25 knowledge which a morally weak man violates in his actions
has no bearing on our argument. For some people have no
doubts when they hold an opinion, and think they have exact
3] BOOK SEVEN 181

knowledge. Accordingly, if we are going to say that the weak-

ness of their belief is the reason why those who hold opinion

will be more liable to act against their conviction than those

who have knowledge, we shall find that there is no difference
between knowledge and opinion. For some people are no less
firmly convinced of what they believe than others are of what 30
they know: Heraclitus is a case in point. 10 (a) But the verb
"to know" has two meanings: a man is said to "know" both
when he does not use the knowledge he has and when he does
use it. Accordingly, when a man does wrong it will make a dif-
ference whether he is not exercising 17 the knowledge he has,
(viz., that it is wrong to do what he is doing), or whether he
is exercising it. In the latter case, we would be baffled, but
not if he acted without exercising his knowledge. 35
Moreover, (b) since there are two kinds of premise, 18

16 The reference is not to any specific utterance of Heraclitus, but to

the tone of intense conviction with which he asserted all his doctrines,
some of which Aristotle finds patently false, and hence examples of opin-
ion rather than knowledge.
17 The verb theorein describes the activity of the mind, most frequently
in the sense of 'to contemplate,' 'study.' However, as Burnet points out,
theorein is also commonly used to describe the activity or actualization
(energeia) of knowledge, and that must be its meaning here. The literal
sense is 'to inspect' or 'to keep one's gaze fixed on' the knowledge which
one possesses.
18 What is is the practical syllogism which
involved in this paragraph
was briefly explained on However, a refinement is added
p. 55, note 3.
here, which requires further explanation. A major premise, Aristotle says,
may contain two kinds of universal, e.g., the premise that "dry food is
good for all men" makes a universal statement about (i) men and (ii)
about dry food. Accordingly, two kinds of syllogism can be developed from
this major premise. The first: "dry food is good for all men"; "I am a
man"; therefore, "dry food is good for me" is here neglected by Aristotle,
because the agent is obviously always aware that he is a man (see De
Motu Animalium 7, 701a25 for a fuller statement). But the second possible
syllogism: "dry food is good for all men"; "this kind of food is dry";
therefore, "this kind of food is good for me," leaves the agent only with
the general knowledge that, for example, cereals are good for him: he
will not yet know whether the barley he is faced with is a cereal. "Knowl-
edge" of this sort will obviously not serve to check a healthy appetite
faced with an attractive bowl of porridge.
 182 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

1147a (namely, universal and particular,) it may well happen that

a man knows both (major and minor premise of a practical
syllogism) and yet acts against his knowledge, because the
(minor) premise which he uses is universal rather than par-
ticular. (In that case, he cannot apply his knowledge to his
action,) for the actions to be performed are particulars. Also,
there are two kinds of universal term to be distinguished: one
5 applies to (i) the agent, and the other (ii) to the thing. For
example, when a person knows that dry food is good for all
men, (he may also know) (i) that he is a man, or (ii) that this
kind of food is dry. But whether the particular food before
him is of this kind is something of which (a morally weak
man) either does not have the knowledge or does not exercise
it.So we see that there will be a tremendous difference be-
tween these two ways of knowing. We do not regard it as at all
strange that (a morally weak person) "knows" in the latter
sense (with one term nonspecific), but it would be surprising
if he "knew" in the other sense, (namely with both terms
apprehended as concrete particulars).
10 There is (c) another way besides those we have so far de-
scribed, in which it is possible for men to have knowledge. When
a person has knowledge but does not use it, we see that "hav-
ing" a characteristic 19 has different meanings. There is a
sense in which a person both has and does not have knowl-
edge, lor example, when he is asleep, mad, or drunk. But this
is precisely the condition of people who are in the grip of the
15 emotions. Fits of passion, sexual appetites, and some other
such passions actually cause palpable changes in the body,
and in some cases even produce madness. Now it is clear
that we must weak a condition similar
attribute to the morally
to that of men who mad, or drunk. That the words
are asleep,
they utter spring from knowledge (as to what is good) is no
evidence to the contrary. People can repeat geometrical dem-
20 onstrations and verses of Empedocles even when affected by
19 The Greek word here is hcxis, which wc usually render as 'character-
istic*; hut its special point here is thatit is the noun form of echein, 'to

have.' Sec Glossary.

3] BOOK SEVEN 183

sleep, madness, and drink; and beginning students can reel

off the words they have heard, but they do not yet know the
subject. The subject must grow to be part of them, and that
takes time. We must, therefore, assume that a man who dis-

plays moral weakness repeats the formulae (of moral knowl-

edge) in the same way as an actor speaks his lines.
Further, (d) we may moral weak-
also look at the cause (of
ness)from the viewpoint of the science of human nature, 20 in
the following way. (In the practical syllogism,) one of the
premises, the universal, is a current belief, while the other in- 25
volves particular facts which fall within the domain of sense
perception. When two premises are combined into one, (i.e.,

when the universal rule is realized in a particular case,) the

soul is thereupon bound to affirm the conclusion, and if the
premises involve action, the soul is bound to perform this act
at once. For example, if (the premises are): "Everything sweet
ought to be tasted" and "This thing before me is sweet"
("this thing" perceived as an individual particular object), 30
a man who is able (to taste) and is not prevented is bound to
act accordingly at once. 21
Now, suppose that there is within us one universal opinion
forbidding us to taste (things of this kind), and another
(universal) opinion which tells us that everything sweet is

20 Physikos literally means 'in a manner proper to nature' or, in

Aristotle, 'from the viewpoint of natural philosophy.' The frequent use
of the term as the opposite of logikos ('logically,' 'dialectically'), e.g., in
Physics III. 5, 204b4-10 and in De Generatione et Corruptione I. 2,

316al0-ll, indicates that Aristotle considered the preceding three argu-

ments (fl)-(c) as more logical or dialectical, based upon the way men talk
about moral questions, whereas he is now going to consider the phenom-
enon of moral weakness from the point of view of moral psychology
or the study of human nature.
21
This is a description of the case in which moral knowledge is fully
realized and therefore fully effective. It prepares the way for the "natural"
or psychological explanation of moral weakness in the next paragraph,
which is the central analysis of Book VII and one of the most important
texts in the Nic. Eth. for an understanding of Aristotle's approach to
the problem of choice and for his conception of the role which knowl-
edge plays in determining voluntary action.
 184 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

pleasant, and also (a concrete perception), determining our ac-

tivity, that the particular thing before us is sweet; and suppose
further that the appetite (for pleasure) happens to be present.
(The result is that) one opinion tells us to avoid that thing,
35 while appetite, capable as it is of setting in motion each part
of our body, drives us to it. (This is the case we have been
looking for, the defeat of reason in moral weakness.) Thus it
turns out that a morally weak man acts under the influence of
1147b some kind of reasoning and opinion, an opinion which is not
intrinsically but only incidentally opposed to right reason; for
it is not opinion but appetite that is opposed to right reason.
22

And this explains why animals cannot be morally weak: they

do not have conceptions of universals, but have only the power
5 to form mental images 23 and memory of particulars.
How is the (temporary) ignorance of a morally weak person
dispelled and how does he regain his (active) knowledge (of
what is good)? The explanation is the same as it is for drunk-
enness and sleep, and it is not peculiar to the affect of moral
weakness. To get it we have to go to the students of natural
science. 24
The final premise, consisting as it does in an opinion about

22 The point is this: there is a kind of reasoning involved in the

actions of a morally weak person: he starts out with the opinion that
everything sweet is pleasant, he finds a particular sweet thing, and knows
that the thing is pleasant. But he also has right reason, which tells him
that he should not taste everything sweet. However, the appetite for
pleasure, taking hold of his opinion that everything sweet is pleasant,
transforms this opinion into the action of tasting. What is contrary to
right reason (i.e., contrary to the knowledge that not everything sweet
should be tasted) is not his opinion (that sweet things are pleasant) but
his appetite for pleasure.
23 See Glossary, phantasia.
24 Aristotle's term here for the 'student of natural science' is physiologos,
and in fact 'physiology' is precisely what he has in mind: the tempo-
rary disturbance of rational control under the influence of pleasure,
passion, drunkenness or sleep is to be explained in biological terms—
for Aristotle in terms of the blood supply around the heart; for modern
biology in terms of blood supply to the brain, glandular secretions, etc.
See his account of sleep in De Somno.
4] BOOK SEVEN 185

an object perceived by the senses, determines our action. 10

When in the grip of emotion, a morally weak man either does
not have this premise, or he has it not in the sense of knowing
it, but in the sense of uttering it as a drunken man may utter

verses of Empedocles. (Because he is not in active possession of

this and because the final (concrete) term of his
premise,)
reasoning is not a universal and does not seem to be an object
of scientific knowledge in the same way that a universal is,
(for both these reasons) we seem to be led to the conclusion
which Socrates sought to establish. Moral weakness does not 15

occur in the presence of knowledge in the strict sense, and it

is sensory knowledge, not science, which is dragged about by

emotion. 25
This completes our discussion of the question whether a
morally weak person acts with knowledge or without knowl-
edge, and in what sense it is possible for him to act knowingly.

4. More problems solved: the sphere in which moral

weakness operates

(2) The next point we have to discuss is whether it is pos- 20

sible for a man to be morally weak in the unqualified sense,

or whether the moral weakness of all who have it is concerned

If the former is the case, we shall

with particular situations.
have to see with what kind of situations he is concerned.
Now, it is clearly in their attitude to pleasures and pains
that men are morally strong and tenacious and morally weak
25 Socrates' conclusion is referred to above, at the beginning of chap. 2,

1145b22-24: "It would be strange if, when a man possesses knowledge,

something else should overpower it and drag it about like a slave."
Aristotle here agrees with Socrates: in the case of a morally weak person,
it is not knowledge in the true sense, which is always a universal, that
is being vanquished, but another kind of knowledge. This "sensory knowl-
edge" is the concrete perception of "this sweet thing" as an application of
the rule of right reason that "not all sweet things are to be tasted." It

is not the general or "scientific" universal that overpowered by appetite,

is

but the application of this rule to the particular case; and the appre-
hension of the particular is the work of sense perception. I accept
Ramsauer's conjecture and insert a 8e after Taurrjv at 1147b 10.
 186 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

and soft.There are two sources of pleasure: some are neces-

sary, and others are desirable in themselves but admit of
25 excess. The necessary kind are those concerned with the body:
I mean and drink and sexual
sources of pleasure such as food
intercourse, in short, the kind of bodily pleasures which we
assigned to the sphere of self-indulgence and self-control. 26
By sources of pleasure which are not necessary but desirable in
30 themselves, I mean, for example, victory, honor, wealth, and
similar good and pleasant things. Now, (a) those who violate
the right reason that they possess by excessive indulgence in
the second type of pleasures, are not called morally weak in
the unqualified sense, but only with a qualification: we call
them "morally weak in regard to material goods," or profit,
or honor, or anger, but not "morally weak" pure and simple.
They are different from the morally weak in the unqualified
senseand share the same name only by analogy, as in our
35 example of the man called Man, who won an Olympic vic-
tory. 27 In his case there is not much difference between the
1148a general definition of man and the definition proper to him
alone, and was a difference. (That there is similarly
yet there
a difference between the two senses of morally weak) is shown
by the fact that we blame moral weakness— regardless of
whether it is moral weakness in the unqualified sense or moral
weakness concerning some particular bodily pleasure— not only
as an error, but also as a kind of vice. But we do not blame as
5 vicious those (who are morally weak in matters of material
goods, profit, ambition, anger, and so forth).
(b) We now come to those bodily enjoyments which, we
say, 28 are the sphere of the self-controlled and the self-indul-
gent.Here a man who pursues the excesses of things pleasant
and avoids excesses of things painful (of hunger, thirst, heat,
2G i.e., the sensual pleasures of taste and touch. See III. 10, 1118a23-26.
2" Thanks papyrus we now know that the ancient commentators
to a
were right in attributing an Olympic victory to a certain Anthropos
('Man'). He won the boxing contest in 456 B.C. In view of that fact, it is
preferable to retain vevucqicws of the majority of manuscripts rather than
read vlku>v on the authority of Kb .

28 See III. 10 and 11.

4] BOOK SEVEN 187

cold, and of anything we feel by touch or taste), and does so

not by choice but against his choice and thinking, is called
"morally weak" without the addition of "in regard to such- 10
and-such," e.g., "in regard to feelings of anger," but simply
morally weak without qualification. The truth of this is

proved by the fact that persons who indulge in bodily pleas-

ures are called "soft," but not persons who indulge in feelings
of anger and so forth. For this reason, we class the morally
weak man with and the morally strong with
the self-indulgent,
But we do not include (in the same cate-
the self-controlled.
gory) those who indulge in feelings of anger, because moral
weakness and self-indulgence are, in a way, concerned with
the same pleasures and pains. That is, they are concerned 15

with the same pleasures and pains but not in the same way.
Self-indulgent men pursue the excess by choice, but the
morally weak do not exercise choice.
That is why we are probably more justified in calling a
person self-indulgent who shows little or no appetite in
pursuing an excess of pleasures and in avoiding moderate
pains, than a person who is driven by strong appetite (to 20
pursue pleasure and to avoid pain). For what would the
former do, if, in addition, he had the vigorous appetite of
youth and felt strong pain at lacking the objects necessary for
his pleasure?
Some appetites and desires are generically noble and worth
while— (let us remember) our earlier 20 distinction of pleasant
things into those which are by nature desirable, the opposite
of these, and those which are intermediate between the two— 25
for example, material goods, profit, victory, and honor. Now,
people are not blamed for being affected by all these and
similar objects of pleasure and by those of the intermediate
kind, nor are they blamed for having an appetite or a liking

29 See the beginning of this chapter, 1147b23-31, where, however, no

mention is made what we get here is actually
of the opposite class. Thus,
a new classification to complement the
one by the addition of
earlier
"things not desirable by nature." The intermediate group, as we shall
see, is identical with the necessary objects of pleasure.
 188 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

for them; they are blamed only for the manner in which they
do so, if they do so to excess. This, by the way, is why (we
do not regard as wicked) all those who, contrary to right
reason, are overpowered by something that is noble and good
by nature, or who pursue it— those, for example, who devote
30 themselves to the pursuit of honor or to their children and
parents more than they should. All these things are good, and
those who devote themselves to them are praised. And yet even
here there is an element of excess, if, like Niobe, one were to
fight against the gods (for the sake of one's children), or if

1148b one showed the same excessively foolish devotion to his father
as did Satyros, nicknamed "the filial." 30 So we see that there
cannot be any wickedness in this area, because, as we stated,
each of these things is in itself naturally desirable. But excess
in one's attachment to them is base and must be avoided.
Similarly, there cannot be moral weakness in this area (of
5 things naturally desirable). Moral weakness is not only some-
thing to be avoided, but it is also something that deserves
blame. because there is a similarity in the affect, people
Still,

do call"moral weakness," but they add "in regard to (such-

it

and-such)," in the same way as they speak of a "bad" doctor

or a "bad" actor without meaning to imply that the person
is bad in the unqualified sense. So just as in the case of the

doctor and the actor (we do not speak of "badness" in the

unqualified sense), because their badness is not vice but only
10 something similar to vice by analogy, so it is clear that, in the
other case, we must understand by "moral weakness" and

30 Niobe boasted that, with her six (or in some versions, seven) sons
and an equal number of daughters, she was at least equal to the goddess
Leto, who only had two children, the twins Apollo and Artemis. Apollo
and Artemis thereupon killed all her children, and Niobe was turned
into stone. Who exactly Satyros was, we do not know. Ancient com-
mentators tell us that he committed suicide when his father died, or
that he called his father a god. Burnet, in his note on this passage, re-
marks that the kings of Bosporus in the fourth century B.C. were called
Satyros, and that "Satyros the Filial" "... looks very like a royal title,
and if the reference were to the deification of a dead king by his son, the
parallel to the case of Niobe would be striking."
 5] BOOK SEVEN 189

"moral strength" only that which operates in the same sphere

as self-control and self-indulgence. When we use these terms
of anger, we do so only in an analogous sense. Therefore, we
add a qualification and say "morally weak in regard to anger,"
just as we say "morally weak in regard to honor or profit."

5. Moral weakness and brutishness

(1) Some things are pleasant by nature, partly (a) without 15

qualification, and partly (b) pleasant for different classes of

animals and humans. Then (2) there are things which are not
pleasant by nature, but which come to be pleasant (a) through
physical disability, (b) through habit, or (c) through an (in-

nate) depravity of nature. We can observe characteristics cor-

responding to each of the group (2),
latter just as (we did in
discussing (1), things pleasant by nature). I mean (2c) char-
acteristics of brutishness, for instance, the female who is said
to rip open pregnant women and devour the infants; or what 20
is some of the savage tribes near the Black Sea,
related about
that they delight in eating raw meat or human flesh, and that
some of them lend each other their children for a feast; or
the story told about Phalaris. 31
These are characteristics of brutishness. Another set of
characteristics (2a) develops through disease and occasionally
through insanity, as, for example, in the case of the man who 25
offered his mother as a sacrifice to the gods and ate of her, or
the case of the slave who ate the liver of his fellow slave.
Other characteristics are the result of disease or (2b) of habit,
e.g., plucking out one's hair, gnawing one's fingernails, or even

chewing coal or earth, and also sexual relations between

males. These practices are, in some cases, due to nature, but
in other cases they are the result of habit, when, for example, 30
someone has been sexually abused from childhood.
31 Phalaris, tyrant of Acragas
in the second quarter of the sixth
century B.C., was saidhave built a hollow brazen bull, in which he
to
roasted his victims alive, presumably to eat them afterwards. There were
several other stories current in antiquity about his brutality.
 190 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

When nature responsible, no one would call the persons

is

affected morally weak any more than one would call women
morally weak, because they are passive and not active in
sexual intercourse. Nor would we apply the term to persons
in a morbid condition as a result of habit. To have one of
these characteristics means to be outside the limits of vice,
1149a just as brutishness, too, lies outside the limits of vice. To
have such characteristics and to master them or be mastered
by them does not constitute moral (strength or) weakness in
an unqualified sense but only by analogy, just as a person is
not to be called morally weak without qualification when he
cannot master his anger, but only morally weak in regard to
the emotion involved.
5 For all excessive folly, cowardice, self-indulgence, and ill-
temper is either brutish or morbid. When someone is by
nature the kind of person who fears everything, even the
rustling of a mouse, his cowardice is brutish, while the man's
fear of the weasel was due to disease. 32 In the case of folly,
those who are irrational by nature and live only by their
10 senses, do some distant barbarian
as tribes, are brutish,
whereas those whose irrationality is due to a disease, such as
epilepsy, or to insanity, are morbid.
Sometimes it happens that a person merely possesses one of
these characteristics without being mastered by it— I mean, for
example, if a Phalaris had restrained his appetite so as not to
eat the flesh of a child or so as not to indulge in some perverse
15 form of sexual pleasure. But it alsohappens that a man not
only has the characteristic but is mastered by it. Thus, just as
the term "wickedness" refers in its unqualified sense to man
alone, while in another sense it is qualified by the addition of
"brutish" or "morbid," in precisely the same way it is plain
that there is a brutish and a morbid kind of moral weakness
(i.e., being mastered by brutishness or disease), but in its un-

32 The imperfect here seems to indicate a reference to a well-known

story. The point of this sentence is that excessive fear of noise is no
longer human but brutish, while a more specific phobia, such as fear
of a weasel, is a symptom of mental disease.
6] BOOK SEVEN 191

qualified sense the term "moral weakness" refers only to

human self-indulgence. 20
It is, accordingly, moral weakness and moral
clear that
strength operate only in the same sphere as do self-indulgence
and self-control, and that the moral weakness which operates
in any other sphere is different in kind, and is called "moral
weakness" only by extension, not in an unqualified sense.

6. Moral weakness in anger

At this point we may observe that moral weakness in anger

is less base than moral weakness in regard to the appetites. 25
For (1) in a way, anger seems to listen to reason, but to hear
wrong, like hasty servants, who run off before they have heard
everything their master tells them, and fail to do what they
were ordered, or like dogs, which bark as soon as there is a
knock without waiting to see if the visitor is a friend. In the
same way, the heat and swiftness of its nature make anger 30
hear but not listen to an order, before rushing off to take re-
venge. For reason and imagination indicate that an insult or
a slight has been received, and anger, drawing the conclusion,
as it were, that it must fight against this sort of thing, simply
flares up on the other hand, is no sooner
at once. Appetite,
told by reason and perception 'hat something is pleasant than 35
it rushes off to enjoy it. Consequently, while anger somehow 1149b
follows reason, appetite does not. Hence appetite is baser (than
anger). For when a person is morally weak in anger, he is in a
sense overcome by reason, but the other is not overcome by
reason but by appetite.
Further, (2) it is more excusable to follow one's natural
desires, inasmuch as we are also more inclined to pardon such
appetites as are common to all men and to the extent that 5
they are common to all. Now anger and ill temper are more
natural than are the appetites which make us strive for excess
and what is not necessary. Take the example of the man
for
who was defending himself against the charge of beating his
father with the words: "Yes, I did it: my father, too, used to
 192 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

beat his father, and he beat his, and"— pointing to his little boy
10 —"he will beat me when he grows up to be a man. It runs in
the family." And the story goes that the man who was being
dragged out of the house by his son asked him to stop at the
door, on the grounds that he himself had not dragged his
father any further than that.
Moreover, (3) the more underhanded a person is, the more
unjust he is. Now, a hot-tempered man is not underhanded;
15 nor is anger: it is open. But appetite has the same attribute
as Aphrodite, who is called "weaver of guile on Cyprus
born," 33 and as her "pattern-pierced zone," of which Homer
says: "endearment that steals the heart away even from the
thoughtful." 34 Therefore, since moral weakness of this type
(which involves the appetite) is more unjust and baser than
moral weakness concerning anger, it is this type which consti-
tutes moral weakness in the unqualified sense and is even a
kind of vice. 35
20 Again, (4) no one feels pain when insulting another with-
out provocation, whereas everyone who acts in a fit of anger
acts with pain. On the contrary, whoever unprovoked insults
another, feels pleasure. If, then, acts which justify outbursts of
anger are more unjust than others, it follows that moral weak-
ness caused by appetite (ismore unjust than moral weakness
caused by anger), for anger does not involve unprovoked
insult.
It is now clear that moral weakness in regard to the ap-
petites more disgraceful than moral weakness displayed
is

25 in anger, and also that moral strength and weakness operate

in the sphere of the bodily appetites and pleasures. But we
must still grasp the distinctions to be made within bodily ap-

33 The author of this phrase is unknown, but the same adjective

'weaver of guile' (doloploke) is also applied to Aphrodite in a famous
poem by Sappho (frg. 1, line 2 L-P).
34 Homer, Iliad XIV. 214 and 217, tr. Richmond Lattimore.
35 But it is not vice in the unqualified sense, for that would involve
choice.
6] BOOK SEVEN 193

petites and pleasures. For, as we stated at the beginning, 30

some pleasures are human, i.e., natural in kind as well as
in degree, while others are brutish, and others again are due
to physical disability and disease. It is only with the first
group of these, (i.e., the human pleasures,} that self-control 30
and self-indulgence are concerned. For that reason, we do
not call beasts either self-controlled or self-indulgent; if we
do so, we do it only metaphorically, in cases where a 37 general
distinction can be drawn between one class of animals and
another on the basis of wantonness, destructiveness, and in-
discriminate voracity. (This use is only metaphorical) because
beasts are incapable of choice and calculation, but (animals
of this type) stand outside the pale of their nature, just as 35
madmen do among humans.
Brutishness is a lesser evil than vice, but it is more horrify- 1150a
ing. For (in a beast) the better element cannot be perverted,
as it can be in man, since it is (To compare a brute
lacking.
beast and a brutish man) is comparing an inanimate with
like
an animate being to see which is more evil. For the depravity
of a being which does not possess the source that initiates its

own motion is always less destructive (than the depravity of

a being that possesses this source), and intelligence is such a 5
source. A similar comparison can be made between injustice
(as such) and an unjust man: each is in some sense worse than
the other, for a bad man can do ten thousand times as much
harm as a beast. 38

36 The "beginning" is less likely to be chap. 1, 1145a27-35, where the

following distinctions are hinted at, than chap. 5, 1148M5-31, where they
are discussed in greater detail.
37 I accept Bywater's suggested emendation of tlvl to tl.
38 The chief point of this paragraph is clear enough: vice is worse and

more destructive than brutishness, because it means a perversion of

reason and intelligence, which initiate human motions, but not the
motions of a beast. The meaning of the last sentence seems to be that
"injustice as such" is worse than an unjust man because it is pure vice;

similarly, a beast is worse than a brutish man, since it is a pure embodi-

ment of "brutishness." But in fact it is not injustice but an unjust man
 194 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

7. Moral strength and moral weakness: tenacity and softness

As regards the and aversions that

pleasures, pains, appetites,
come to us through touch and and which we denned taste,
10 earlier 39 as the sphere of self-indulgence and self-control, it is
possible to be the kind of person who is overcome even by
those which most people master; but it is also possible to
master those by which most people are overcome. Those who
are overcome by pleasure or master it are, respectively, morally
weak and morally strong; and in the case of pain, they are,
respectively, soft and tenacious. The disposition which char-
15 acterizes the majority of men lies between these two, although
they tend more to the inferior characteristics.
Some pleasures are necessary, up to a certain point, and
others are not, whereas neither excesses nor deficiencies of
pleasure are necessary. The same is also true of appetites and
pains. From all this it follows that a man is self-indulgent
when he pursues excesses of pleasant things, or when he (pur-
20 sues necessary pleasures) to excess, by choice, 40 for their own
sakes, and notan ulterior result. A
for man of this kind
inevitably feels no regret, and is as a result incorrigible. For a
person who feels no regret is incorrigible. 41 A person deficient
(in his pursuit of the necessary pleasures) is the opposite (of
self-indulgent), and the man who occupies the middle position
is self-controlled. In the same way, a man who avoids bodily

pain (is self-indulgent), provided he does so by choice and not

because he is overcome by them.
25 A choice is not exercised either by a person who is driven

who causes harm; and similarly, the brutish man can do a great deal
more harm than any animal.
39 See III. 10.
40 I follow Susemihl, Burnet, and Rackham in preferring the kcll Slcl

irpoaipemv of M b
to the r] 8ta Trpoaipeaiv of the other manuscripts.
41 The purpose of this sentence is evidently to explain the etymology
of akolasia ('self-indulgence'), which literally means 'lack of chastisement,'
'lack of corrective punishment'; cf. p. 82, note 34,
7] BOOK SEVEN 195

by pleasure, or by a person who is avoiding the pain of (un-

There is, accordingly, a difference between
satisfied) appetite.
indulging by choice and not by choice. Everyone would think
worse of a man who would perform some disgraceful act
actuated only slightly or not at all by appetite, than of a per-
son who was And we would
actuated by a strong appetite.
regard as worse a man who feels no anger as he beats another
man, than someone who does so in anger. For what would he
do, he were in the grip of emotion when acting? Hence a
if 30
self-indulgent man is worse than one who is morally weak.
So we see that one of the characteristics described, (viz.,
the deliberate avoidance of pain,} constitutes rather a kind of
softness, while a person possessing the other, (viz., the de-
liberate pursuit of excessive pleasures,) is self-indulgent.
A morally strongopposed to a morally weak man, and a
is

tenacious to a soft man. For being tenacious consists in offer-

ing resistance, while moral strength consists in mastering.
Resistance and mastery are two different things, just as not 35
being defeated differs from winning a victory. Hence, moral
strength is more desirable than tenacity. A man who is de- 1150b
ficient (in his resistance which most people with-
to pains)
stand successfully is soft and effeminate. For effeminacy is a
form of softness. A man of this kind lets his cloak trail, in
order to save himself the pain of lifting it up, and plays the
invalid without believing himself to be involved in the misery 5
which a true invalid suffers.
The situation is similar in the case of moral strength and
moral weakness. If a person is overcome by powerful and
excessive pleasures or pains, we are not surprised. In fact, we
find itpardonable if he is overcome while offering resistance,
as, for example, Theodectes' Philoctetes 42 does when bitten by

42 Theodectes (ca. 375-334 b.c.) spent most of his life at Athens. He

studied under Plato, Isocrates, and Aristotle, and in addition to writing
tragedies, won a considerable reputation as an orator. A scholion on
this passage tells us that, in Theodectes' tragedy, Philoctetes, after re-
pressing his pain for a long time, finally bursts out: "Cut off my hand!"
 196 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

10 the snake, or as Cercyon in Carcinus' Alope, 43 or as people

who try to restrain their laughter burst out in one great
guffaw, as actually happened to Xenophantus. 44 But we are
surprised if a man
overcome by and unable
is to withstand
those (pleasures and pains) which most people resist success-
fully, unless his disposition is congenital or caused by disease,
as among the kings of Scythia, for example, in whom softness
15 is congenital, 45 and as softness distinguishes the female from
the male.
A man who loves amusement is also commonly regarded as
being self-indulgent, but he is actually soft. For amusement
is relaxation, inasmuch as it is respite from work, and a lover
of amusement is a person who goes in for relaxation to excess.
One kind of moral weakness is impetuosity and another is a
lack of strength. People of the latter kind deliberate but do
20 not abide by the results of their deliberation, because they
are overcome by emotion, while the impetuous are driven
on by emotion, because they do not deliberate. (If they de-
liberated, they would not be driven on so easily,) for as those
who have just been tickled are immune to being tickled
again, 46 so some people are not overcome by emotion, whether
43 Carcinuswas a fourth-century Athenian tragic poet. According to a
scholiast, "Cercyon had a daughter Alope. Upon learning that his
daughter Alope had committed adultery, he asked her who had per-
petrated the deed, and said: 'If you tell me, I will not be grieved at all.'
When Alope told him who the adulterer was, Cercyon was so overcome
with grief that he could no longer stand life and renounced living."
44 The occasion is not known. Xenophantus is said to have been a mu-
sician at the court of Alexander the Great (356-323 B.C.). Seneca (De Ira II.
2) tells us that when Xenophantus sang, Alexander was so stirred that he
seized his weapons in his hands.
According to the Hippocratic treatise On Airs, Waters, and Places
45

22, horseback riding caused softness among the Scythian aristocracy.

Herodotus I. 105 attributes this "female disease" to the fact that some
Scythians robbed the temple of Heavenly Aphrodite at Ascalon.
46 The reading TrpoyapyaXicrOivTt*; seems to give a better sense than
the active TrpoyapyaXlaavT^. Most commentators explain this passage
by reference to Problemata XXXV. 6, 965all-14: "Why can no one tickle
himself? It is no doubt for the same reason that you feel another's tick-
 8] BOOK SEVEN 197

pleasant or painful, when they feel and seecoming and have

it

roused themselves and their power of reasoning in good time.

Keen and excitable persons are the most prone to the impctu- 25

ous kind of moral weakness. Swiftness prevents the keen and

vehemence the excitable from waiting for reason to guide
them, since they tend to be led by their imagination.

8. Moral weakness and self-indulgence

A self-indulgent man, as we stated, 47 is one who feels no

regret, sincehe abides by the choice he has made. A morally 30
weak person, on the other hand, always feels regret. There-
fore, the formulation of the problem, as we posed it above, 48

does not correspond to the facts: it is a self-indulgent man

who cannot be cured, but a morally weak man is curable.
For wickedness is like a disease such as dropsy or consumption,
while moral weakness resembles epilepsy: the former is
chronic, the latter intermittent. All in all, moral weakness and
vice are generically different from each other. A vicious man 35
is not aware of his vice, but a morally weak man knows his
weakness.
Among the morally weak, those who lose themselves (in 1151a
emotion, i.e., the impetuous,) are better than those who have
a rational principle but do not abide by it, (i.e., those who
lack strength). For they are overcome by a lesser emotion and
do not yield without previous deliberation, as the impetuous
do. A man who has this kind of moral weakness resembles
those who get drunk quickly and on little wine, or on less wine
than most people do.
That moral weakness is not a vice (in the strict sense) is now 5
evident, though in a certain sense it is perhaps one. 49 For
ling less, if you feel it coming, and more, if you do not see it coming.
Therefore, a person will be tickled least effectively, if he is aware of what
is happening."
47 See above, chap. 7, 1150a21-22.
48 See above, chap. 2, 1146a31-b2.
49 Cf. above, chap. 6, especially 1149bl8-20.
 198 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

moral weakness violates choice, whereas vice is in accordance

with choice. Nevertheless, they are similar in the actions to
which they lead, just as Demodocus said of the Milesians:

The Milesians are no stupid crew,

except that they do what the stupid do. 50

10 Similarly, the morally weak are not unjust, but they will act
like unjust men.
A morally weak man is the kind of person who pursues bod-
ily pleasures to excess and contrary to right reason, though he
is not persuaded (that he ought to do so); the self-indulgent,
on the other hand, persuaded to pursue them because he is
is

the kind of man who does so. This means that it is the former
who is easily persuaded to change his mind, but the latter is
15 not. For virtue or excellence preserves and wickedness destroys
the initiating motive or first cause (of action), and in actions
the initiating motive or first cause is the end at which we aim,
as the hypotheses are in mathematics. For neither in mathe-
matics nor in moral matters does reasoning teach us the prin-
ciples or starting points; it is virtue, whether natural or habit-
ual, that inculcates right opinion about the principle or first
premise. A man who has this right opinion is self-controlled,
20 and his opposite is self-indulgent.
But there exists a kind of person who loses himself under
the impact of emotion and violates right reason, a person
whom emotion so overpowers that he does not act according to
the dictates of right reason, but not sufficiently to make him
the kind of man who
persuaded that he must abandon him-
is

self completely to the pursuit of such pleasures. This is the

morally weak man: he is better than the self-indulgent, and
25 he is not bad in the unqualified sense of the word. For the
best thing inhim is saved: the principle or premise (as to how
he should act). Opposed to him is another kind of man, who
remains steadfast and does not lose himself, at least not under

50 Demodocus wrote lampooning epigrams in the sixth century B.C.

The quotation here is frg. 1 (Diehl3).

9] BOOK SEVEN 199

the impact of emotion. These considerations make it clear

that moral strength is a characteristic of great moral worth,
while moral weakness is bad.

9. Steadfastness in moral strength and moral weakness

Is a man morally strong when he abides by any and every
dictate of reason and when he abides by the
choice, or only
right choice? And is a man
morally weak when he does not 30

abide by every choice and dictate of reason, or only when he

fails to abide by the rational dictate which is not false and the

choice which isThis is the problem we stated earlier. 51

right?
Or is it true reason and right choice as such, but any other
kind of choice incidentally, to which the one remains steadfast
and the other does not? (This seems to be the correct answer,) 35
for if a person chooses and pursues the attainment of a by
means of b, his pursuit and choice are for a as such but for b 1151b
incidentally. And by "as such" we mean "in the unqualified
sense." Therefore, there is a sense in which the one abides by
and the other abandons any and every kind of opinion, but in
the unqualified sense, only true opinion.
There are those who remain steadfast to their opinion and
are called "obstinate." They are hard to convince and are not 5

easilypersuaded to change their mind. They bear a certain

resemblance to a morally strong person, just as an extravagant
man resembles one who is generous, and a reckless man resem-
bles one who is confident. But they are, in fact, different in
many respects. The one, the morally strong, will be a person
who does not change under the influence of emotion and ap-
petite,but on occasion he will be persuaded (by argument). 10
Obstinate men, on the other hand, are not easily persuaded
by rational argument; but to appetites they are amenable, and
in many cases are driven on by pleasures. The various kinds of
obstinate people are the opinionated, the ignorant, and the
boorish. The opinionated let themselves be influenced by pleas-
si See above, chap. 2, 1146al6-31.
 200 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

ure and pain: they feel the joy of victory, when someone fails

15 to persuade them to change their mind, and they feel pain

when their views are overruled, like decrees that are declared
null and As a result, they bear a greater resemblance to
void.
the morally weak than to the morally strong.
Then there are those who do not abide by their decisions
for reasons other than moral weakness, as, for example, Neop-
tolemus in Sophocles' Philoctetes. 52 Granted it was under the
influence of pleasure that he did not remain steadfast, but it
was a noble pleasure: it was noble in his eyes to be truthful,
but he was persuaded by Odysseus to tell a lie. For not any-
20 body who acts under the influence of pleasure is self-indulgent,
bad, or morally weak, but only those who do so under the in-
fluence of a base pleasure.
There is also a type who feels less joy than he should at the
things of the body and, therefore, does not abide by the dic-
tates of reason. The median between this type and the morally
25 weak man is the man of moral strength. For a morally weak
person does not abide by the dictates of reason, because he
feels more joy than he should (in bodily things), but the man
under discussion feels less joy than he should. But a morally
strong man remains steadfast and does not change on either
account. Since moral strength is good, it follows that both
characteristics opposed to it are bad, as they in fact turn out
to be. But since one of the two opposites is in evidence only in
30 a few people and on few occasions, moral strength is generally
regarded as being the only opposite of moral weakness, just as
self-control is thought to be opposed only to self-indulgence.
Since many terms are used in an analogical sense, we have
come speak analogically of the "moral strength" of a self-
to
controlled man. (There is a resemblance between the two)

since a morally strong man is the kind of person who does

35 nothing contrary to the dictates of reason under the influence
of bodily pleasures, and the same is true of a self-controlled
1152a man. But while a morally strong man has base appetites, a
self-controlled man does not and is, moreover, a person who
3* See above, chap. 2, 1146al6-21, with note 13.
10] BOOK SEVEN 201

finds no pleasureanything that violates the dictates of

in
reason. A morally strong man, on the other hand, does find
pleasure in such things, but he is not driven by them. There
is also a similarity between the morally weak and the self-

indulgent in that both pursue things pleasant to the body; 5

but they are different in that a self-indulgent man thinks he

ought to pursue them, while the morally weak thinks he
should not.

10. Moral weakness and practical wisdom

It is not possible for the same person to have practical
wisdom and be morally weak at the same time, for it has
been shown 53 that a man of practical wisdom is ipso facto
a man of good character. Moreover, to be a man of practical
wisdom, one must not only know (what one ought to do),
but he must also be able to act accordingly. But a morally
weak man is not able so to act. However, there is no rea-
son why a clever man w could not be morally weak. That 10
is why occasionally people are regarded as possessing prac-
tical wisdom, but as being morally weak at the same time;
it is because cleverness differs from practical wisdom in the
way we have described in our first discussion of the sub-
ject. They are closely related in that both follow the guid-
ance of reason, but they differ in that (practical wisdom
alone) involves moral choice.
Furthermore, a morally weak man does not act like a man
who has knowledge and exercises it, but like a man asleep
or drunk. Also, even though he acts voluntarily— for he knows 15
in a sense what he is doing and what end he is aiming at—
he not wicked, because his moral choice is good, 55 and
is

that makes him only half-wicked. He is not unjust, either,

53 See VI. 13, 1144bl-32.

54 Underlying this and the following statements is the similarity be-
tween cleverness and practical wisdom aj discussed in VI. 12, 1144a23-36.
55 I.e., his basic moral purpose is good, even though it is eventually
vitiated by appetite.
 202 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

for heno underhanded plotter. 50 (For plotting implies

is

deliberation,) whereas one type of morally weak man does

not abide by the results of his deliberation, while the other,
the excitable type, does not even deliberate. So we see that
20 a morally weak person is like which enacts all the
a state
right decrees and has laws of
a high moral standard, but
does not apply them, a situation which Anaxandrides made
fun of: "Thus wills the state, that cares not for its laws." ° 7 A
wicked man, on the other hand, resembles a state which does
apply its laws, but the laws are bad.
In relation to the characteristics possessed by most people,
25 moral weakness and moral strength lie at the extremes. For
a morally strong person remains more steadfast and a mor-
ally weak person less steadfast than the capacity of most
men permits.
The kind of moral weakness displayed by excitable people
is more easily cured than the moral weakness of those who
deliberate but do not abide by their decisions; and those who
are morally weak through habituation are more curable than
those who are morally weak by nature. For it is easier to
30 change habit than to change nature. Even habit is hard to
change, precisely because it resembles nature, as Euenus says:

A habit, friend, is of long practice born,

and practice ends in fashioning man's nature. 58

We have now completed our definitions of moral strength,

35 moral weakness, tenacity, and softness, and stated how these
characteristics are related to one another.

8, 1135bl9-25, and VII. 6, 1149M3-20.

5CCf. V.
Anaxandrides (ft. 382-349 B.C.) migrated from his native Rhodes (or
57

Colophon) to Athens, where he gained fame as a poet of the Middle

Comedy. The present quotation is frg. 67 Kock.
58 Euenus of Paros was a famous Sophist, who lived in the late fifth
century B.C., and, as we see here, also wrote rather bad hexameter and
elegiac verse. Plato scoffs at him several times in Apology 20a-c, Phaedo
60d-61a, and Phaedrus 267a.
11] BOOK SEVEN 203

Pleasure: some current views 69

11.

It is the role of a political philosopher to study pleasure 1152b

and pain. For he supreme craftsman of the end to which
is the
we look when we call one particular thing bad and another
good in the unqualified sense. Moreover, an examination of
this subject is one of the tasks we must logically undertake,

since we established 60 that virtue and vice of character are 5

concerned with pains and pleasures, and most people claim

that happiness involves pleasure. That is why the word
derived from the word "enjoy." 61
"blessed" is

Now, (1) some people believe that no pleasure is good,

59 One of the most puzzling aspects of the Nic. Eth. is that it contains
two elaborate but independent discussions of pleasure. The first of these
begins here and encompasses the last four chapters of Book VII, while
the second is contained in the first five chapters of Book X. The pioneer-
ing work toward an understanding of the problems posed by these two dis-
cussions was done by A. J.
Festugicre, Aristote: Le Plaisir (Paris, 1936, re-
printed without changes in 1960). Two further studies of the problem
have appeared since the publication of Festugiere's work: J. Leonard,
Le bonheur chez Aristote (Brussels, 1948), chap. 3; and G. Lieberg, Die
Lehre von der Lust in den Ethiken des Aristoteles, "Zetemata" XIX
(Munich, 1958), which is an expanded version of Lieberg's 1953 doctoral
dissertation.
That Book X is the more mature and definitive word
the version in
of Aristotle on the problem of pleasure has been proved by Festugicre,
pp. xx-xxiv, beyond the shadow of a doubt. It is also practically certain
that the discussion of pleasure in Book VII of the Nic. Eth., together with
the rest of Mc. Eth. V-VII was originally written as part of the earlier
Eudemian Ethics (Festugicre, pp. xxv-xliv), and transferred to the Nic.
Eth. when Aristotle rewrote his lectures on ethics. (On this point, see
Lieberg, pp. 13-15.) This is not the place to discuss the differences in
philosophical content between these two sections on pleasure, especially
since that has been brilliantly done by Festugicre and Lieberg, whose
monographs here cited are recommended to the attention of the reader.
60 See II. 3, 1104b8-1105al3.
61 We have here another one of Aristotle's fanciful etymologies. He
associates makarios ('blessed') with mala khairein ('to feel great joy'). An
analogous etymology in English would be to derive 'blessed' from
'pleasure.'
 204 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

good and pleasure are

either in itself or incidentally, since the
10 not the same thing. 62
(2) Others hold that, though some pleas-
ures are good, most of them are bad. 63 (3) Then there is a
third view, according to which it is impossible for pleasure
to be the highest good, even if all pleasures are good. 64
(The following arguments are advanced to support (1) the
contention that) pleasure is not a good at all: (a) All pleasure
is a process or coming-to-be leading to the natural state (of
the subject) and perceived (by the subject); but no process is

of the same order as its ends, e.g., the building process is not
of the same order as a house. 65 Further, (b) a self-controlled
15 man avoids pleasures. Again, (c) a man of practical wisdom
does not pursue the pleasant, but what is freefrom pain. 66
Moreover, (d) pleasures are an obstacle to good sense: the
greater the joy one feels, e.g., in sexual intercourse, the greater
the obstacle; for no one is capable of rational insight while
enjoying sexual relations. 67 Also, (e) there is no art of pleasure;
yet every good is the result of an children and
art. Finally, (/)

beasts pursue pleasures, (whereas they do not know what is

good).
20 (The arguments for the view (2) that) not all pleasures are
good are: (a) Some pleasures are disgraceful and cause for
reproach; and (b) some pleasures are harmful, for there are
pleasant things that may cause disease. 68

62 This view seems have been propounded by Speusippus, Plato's

to
nephew and disciple, whosucceeded him as head of the Academy from
347-339 B.C. A similar view had been espoused by Antisthenes (ca. 455-
ca. 360 b.c.J, the friend of Socrates and precursor of the Cynic School.
63 This is probably a reference to theview stated by Plato in Philebus
13b.
64 No particular proponents of this view can be identified, but they
are also discussed in Plato's Philebus 53c-55c.
65 The relation of this argument to those presented in Plato's Philebus
(especially 31b-32a, 33d-e, and 54a-d) is unmistakable.
66 Arguments (b) and (c)had probably been used by Speusippus and
before him perhaps by Antisthenes.
67 This argument may come from Archytas, a Pythagorean philosopher,
mathematician, ruler of Tarentum, and friend of Plato, in the first
half of the fourth century B.C.; cf. DK6 47A 9, lines 10-34.
«8Cf. especially Plato, Philebus 46a-47b.
12] BOOK SEVEN 205

(And the argument in favor of (3), the contention that)

pleasure is not the highest good, is it is not an end but
that
a process or coming-to-be. 69 These are roughly the views put
forward.

12. The views discussed: (1) Is pleasure a good thing?

But the following considerations will show that the argu- 25

ments we have enumerated do not lead us to the conclusion
that (1) pleasure is not a good, or (3) that it is not the highest
good. In the first place, (to answer argument (\a) and (3),)
we use the word "good" in two senses: a thing may be good
in the unqualified sense, or "good" for a particular person.
Hence the term has also two meanings when applied to
natural states and characteristics (of persons), and conse-
quently also when applied to their motions and processes.
This means that motions and processes which are generally
held to be bad are partly bad without qualification, but not
bad for a particular person, and even desirable for him; and 30
partly not even desirable for a particular person except on
occasion and for a short time, though they are not desirable in
an unqualified sense. Others again are not even pleasures, but
only appear to be, for example, all processes accompanied by
pain and undergone for remedial purposes, such as the proc-
esses to which the sick are subjected.
Secondly, the good has two aspects: it is both an activity and
a characteristic. Now, the processes which restore us to our
natural characteristic condition are only incidentally pleasant;
but the activity which is at work when our appetites (want to see 35
us restored) is the activity of that part of our characteristic con-
dition and natural which has been left unimpaired. For
state
that matter, there are pleasures which do not involve pain
and appetite (e.g., the activity of studying) 70 and we experi- 1153a
ence them when there is nothing deficient in our natural
state. 71 (That processes of restoration are only incidentally
69 See the passages cited on p. 204, note 65.
70 I follow Kb in reading
rov Oeuypeiv Ivipytia.
rj

71 The most concise explanation of this condensed and elliptic para-

 206 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

pleasant) is shown by the fact that the pleasant things which

give us joy while our natural state is being replenished are not
the same as those which give us joy once it has been restored.
Once restored, we feel joy at what is pleasant in the unquali-
fied sense, but while the replenishment goes on, we enjoy even
5 its opposite: for instance, we enjoy sharp and bitter things,
none of which are pleasant either by nature or in the un-
qualified sense. Consequently, the pleasures (derived from
them, too, are not pleasant either by nature or in the un-
qualified sense), for the difference that exists between various
pleasant things is the same as that which is found between the
pleasures derived from them.
In the third place, there is no need to believe that there

exists something better than pleasure which is different from

it, just as, according to some, the end is better than the process

which leads to it. For pleasures are not processes, nor do all
10 pleasures involve processes: they are activities and an end,
and they result not from the process of development we
undergo, but from the use we make of the powers we have.
Nor do all pleasures have an end other than themselves; that
is only true of the pleasures of those who are being led to the

perfection of their natural states. For that reason, it is not

correct, either, to say that pleasure is a process perceived (by
the subject): one should rather call it an "activity of our
characteristic condition as determined by our natural state,"

graph is Stewart's paraphrase in Notes on the Nicomachean Ethics, Vol.

II,pp. 230-31:
'Again, the term "good" is applicable to a function and to a state:—

the natural state being "good," the motions which restore a man to it
are, of course, "good," and "pleasant" derivatively. If these "motions"
are what we are understand by "pleasures," then our opponents have
to
made out But we must not allow
their case— no pleasures are "good."
them to stop short at the "goodness" of the mere state. The "goodness"
of its function is higher; and when desire for restoration is being
satisfied, the state insofar as it remains partly unimpaired, performs a
function: it is this function which is the pleasure experienced in the
restorative process— not but that there are pleasures without accompany-
ing pain and desire— for instance the functions of thought, proceeding
from a state, or faculty, which lacks nothing to the fulness of its nature.'
12] BOOK SEVEN 207

and instead of "perceived" we should call it "unobstructed." 15

(There are some 7 - who believe pleasure to be process on the

ground that it is good in the true sense of the word, for they
think that activity is process, but it is, as a matter of fact,

different.)
The argument (2b) that pleasures are bad, because some
pleasant things may cause disease, is like arguing that whole-
some things (are bad, because) some of them are bad for mak-
ing money. Both pleasant and wholesome things are bad in the
relative senses mentioned, but that does not make them
bad in themselves: even studying is occasionally harmful to 20
health.
Also, (Id) neither practical wisdom nor any characteristic
is obstructed by the pleasure arising from it, but only by alien
pleasures extraneous to it. The pleasures arising from study
and learning will only intensify study and learning, (but they
will never obstruct it).

The argument (\e) that no pleasure is the result of an art

makes good sense. For art never produces any activity at all: 25
it produces the capacity for the activity. Nevertheless, the arts
of perfume-making as well as of cooking are generally re-
garded as arts of pleasure.
The arguments (lb) that a self-controlled person avoids
pleasure, (lc) that a man of practical wisdom pursues a life
free from pain, and (1/) that children and beasts pursue pleas-
ure, are refuted by the same consideration. We have
all

stated 73
what sense pleasures are good without qualifica-
in 30
tion and in what sense not all pleasures are good. These last
mentioned are the pleasures which beasts and children pursue,
while a man of practical wisdom wants to be free from the
pain which they imply. They are the pleasures that involve
appetite and pain, i.e., the bodily pleasures— for they are of
this sort— and their excesses, in terms of which a self-indulgent

72 The reference, as Lieberg (Die Lehre von der Lust in den Ethiken
des Aristoteles, pp. 66-69) has demonstrated, is probably to members
of Aristotle's own circle.
73 See the beginning of this chapter, 1152b26-1153a7.
 208 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

man is self-indulgent. That is why a self-controlled man avoids

35 these pleasures. But there are pleasures even for the self-
controlled.

13. The views discussed: (3) Is pleasure the highest good?

1153b To continue: there is general agreement that pain is bad

and must be avoided. One kind of pain is bad in the un-
qualified sense, and another kind is bad, because in some
way or other it obstructs us. Now, the opposite of a thing to
be avoided— in the sense that it must be avoided and is bad-
is good. It follows, therefore, necessarily that pleasure is a
5 good. Speusippus tried to solve the question by saying that,
just as the greater opposed both to the less and to the equal,
is

(so pleasure is opposed both to pain and to the good). 74 But

this solution does not come out correctly: surely, he w ould T

not say that pleasure is essentially a species of evil. 75

But some pleasures are bad, it does not mean

(2a) even if

that the highest good cannot be some sort of pleasure, just

as the highest good may be some sort of knowledge, even
though some kinds of knowledge are bad. Perhaps we must
even draw the necessary conclusion that it is; for since each
10 characteristic has its unobstructed activities, the activity of all
characteristics or of one of them— depending on whether the
former or the latter constitutes happiness— if unobstructed,
must be the most desirable of all. And this activity is pleasure.
Therefore, the highest good some sort of pleasure, despite
is

the fact that most pleasures are bad and, if you like, bad in
the unqualified sense of the word. It is for this reason that
everyone thinks that the happy life is a pleasant life, and
15 links pleasure with happiness. And it makes good sense this
way: for no activity is complete and perfect as long as it is

74 This argument is more fully stated, but without explicit reference

to Speusippus, in X. 2, 1173a5-13.
75 The argument of Speusippus puts pleasure in the position of one
of the extremes, and since the good is always a mean for Aristotle,
pleasure would thus be an evil.
 13] BOOK SEVEN 209

obstructed, and happiness is a complete and perfect thing.

This a happy man also needs the goods of the body,
is why
external goods, and the goods of fortune, in order not to be
obstructed by their absence.
But those who assert 7G that a man is happy even on the
rack and even when great misfortunes befall him, provided 20

that he is good, are talking nonsense, whether they know it or

not. Since happiness also needs fortune, some people regard
good fortune as identical with happiness. But that is not
true, for even good fortune, if excessive, can be an obstruction;
perhaps we are, in that case, no longer justified in calling it
"good fortune," for its definition is determined by its rela-
tion to happiness.
Also, the fact that all beasts and all men pursue pleasure 25
is some indication that it is, in a sense, the highest good:

There is no talk that ever quite dies down,

if spread by many men. . . .
77

But since no single nature and no single characteristic condi-

tion is, or is regarded, as the best (for all), people do not
allpursue the same pleasure, yet all pursue pleasure. Perhaps 30
they do not even pursue the pleasure which they think or
would say they pursue, but they all pursue the same (thing),
pleasure. For everything has by nature something divine about
it. But the bodily pleasures have arrogated the name "pleas-
ure" unto themselves as their own private possession, because
everyone tends to follow them and participates in them more
frequently than in any others. Accordingly, since these are the 35
only pleasures with which they are familiar, people think they
are the only ones that exist.
It is also evident that i.e., the activity (of our
if pleasure, 1154a
faculties), is be impossible for a happy man to
not good, it will
live pleasantly. For to what purpose would he need pleasure,
if it were not a good and if it is possible that a happy man's

life is one of pain? For if pain is neither good nor bad, pleas-

7« The Cynics are probably meant.

77 Hesiod, Works and Days 763-764, translation mine.
 210 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

ure is not, cither: so why should he avoid it? Surely, the life

of a morally good man is no pleasanter (than that of anyone

else), if his activities are not more pleasant.

14. The views discussed: (2) Are most pleasures bad?

The subject of the pleasures of the body demands the atten-

tion of the proponents of the view that, though some pleasures
—for instance, the noble pleasures— are highly desirable, the
pleasures of the body— that is, the pleasures which are the
10 concern of the self-indulgent man— are not. If that is true,
why then are the pains opposed to them bad? For bad has
good as its opposite. Is it that the necessary pleasures are good
in the sense in good? Or are they
which anything not bad is

good up to a certain point? For all characteristics and motions

which cannot have an excess of good cannot have an excess of
pleasure, either; but those which can have an excess of good
15 can also have an excess of pleasure. Now, excess is possible
in the case of thegoods of the body, and it is the pursuit of
excess,but not the pursuit of necessary pleasures, that makes
a man bad. For all men get some kind of enjoyment from
good food, wine, and sexual relations, but not everyone enjoys
these things in the proper way. The reverse is true of pain:
a bad person does not avoid an excess of it, but he avoids it
20 altogether. For the opposite of an excess is pain only for the
man who pursues the excess.
It is our task not only to say what is true, but also to state
what causes error, since that helps carry conviction. For when
we can give a reasoned explanation why something which ap-
pears to be true is, makes us give greater
in fact, not true, it

25 credence to what is true. Accordingly, we must now explain

why the pleasures of the body appear to be more desirable.
The first reason, then, is that pleasure drives out pain.
When men experience an excess of pain, they pursue excessive
pleasure and bodily pleasure in general, in the belief that it

will remedy the pain. These remedial (pleasures) become

30 very intense— and that is the very reason why they are pursued
14] BOOK SEVEN 211

—because they are experienced in contrast with their opposite.

As a matter of fact, these two reasons which we have
stated 78 also explain why pleasure is not regarded as having
any moral value: some pleasures are the actions that spring
from a bad natural state— either congenitally bad, as in the
case of a beast, or bad by habit, as in the case of a bad man
—while other pleasures are remedial and indicate a deficient
natural state, and to be in one's natural state is better than
to be moving toward it. But since the remedial pleasures only
arise in the process of reaching the perfected state, they are 1154b
morally good only incidentally.
The second reason is that the pleasures of the body are
pursued because of their intensity by those incapable of en-
joying other pleasures. Take, for example, those who induce
themselves to be thirsty. 79 There is no objection to this prac-
tice, if the pleasures are harmless; but if they are harmful, it

is bad. For many people have nothing else to give them joy, 5
and because of their nature, it is painful for them to feel
neither (pleasure nor pain). Actually, animal nature is under
a constant strain, as the students of natural science attest 80

when they say that seeing and hearing are painful, but (we do
not feel the pain because,) as they assert, we have become ac-
customed to it. growing process (we go
Similarly, whereas the 10

through) in our youth puts us into the same (exhilarated)

state as that of a drunken man, and (makes) youth the age of
pleasure, 81 excitable 82 natures, on the other hand, always need

78 See above, chap. 5, 1148bl5-19, and chap. 12, 1152b26-33.

79 This was done, according to several commentators, by eating salty
food, e.g., salt fish.
80 According to the ancient commentator Aspasius (ca. a.d. 100-150),
Anaxagoras is meant here; cf. Theophrastus, De Sensu 29 (DK.6 59A 92).
81 The text has literally: "and youth is pleasant," which does not

contribute very much to the context. Since the first part of the sentence
seems to explain why young men indulge in the pleasures of the body,
the context requires an interpretation of Kal -fjSv rj veoT-qs such as we
have given. Cf. also the comments of Joachim and Gauthier-Jolif ad loc.
82 The Greek word melancholikos, which we render here and above,

in chap. 7, 1150b25, as 'excitable,' literally means 'of black bile.' It was

 212 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

remedial action: as a result of (the excess of black bile in their)

constitutional blend, their bodies are exposed to constant
gnawing sensations, and they are always vehement in a state of
desire. Now, since pain is driven out by the pleasure opposed
15 to it or by any strong pleasure at all, 83 excitable people become
self-indulgent and bad.
Pleasures unattended by pain do not admit of excess. The
objects of these pleasures are what is pleasant by nature and
not what is incidentally pleasant. By "things incidentally
pleasant" I mean those that act as remedies. For since it is

through some action of that part of us which has remained

sound that a cure is effected, the remedy is regarded as being
pleasant. But (pleasant by nature it is not): pleasant by nature
20 are those things which produce the action of an unimpaired
natural state.
There is no single object that continues to be pleasant for-
ever, because our nature is not simple but contains another
natural element, which makes us subject to decay. Conse-
quently, whenever one element does something, it runs
counter to the nature of the other; and whenever the two
elements are in a state of equilibrium, the act performed
seems neither painful nor pleasant. If there is a being with a
25 simple nature, the same action will always be the most pleas-
ant to him. That is why the divinity always enjoys one single
and simple pleasure: 84 for there is not only an activity of
motion but also an activity of immobility, and pleasure con-
sists in rest rather than in motion. But "change in all things
is pleasant," as the poet has it,
85 because of some evil in us.

not until the theory of the four temperaments by the physician Galen
(a.d. 129-P199) that the term assumed the connotations of 'melancholy'

which it still has. The earlier medical writers, whom Aristotle follows,
believed an excess of black bile to produce a very tense and excitable
kind of disposition.
83 According to Aspasius, the point is that, for example, hunger may be
driven out by the pleasures of music.
84 Cf. the famous description of the Unmoved Mover in Metaphysics
A. 7.

80 Euripides. Orestes 234.

14] BOOK SEVEN 213

For just as a man who changes easily is bad, so also is a nature 30

that needs to change. The reason is that such a nature is not
simple and not (entirely) good.
This completes our discussion of moral strength and moral
weakness, and of pleasure and pain. We have stated what each
of them is and in what sense some of them are good and some
bad. It now remains to talk about friendship.
H55a BOOK VIII

1. Why we need friendship 1

Continuing in a sequence, the next subject which we shall

have to discuss is friendship. For it is some sort of excellence
or virtue, or involves virtue, and it is, moreover, most indis-
5 pensable for life. No one would choose to live without friends,
even if he had all other goods. Rich men and those who hold
office and power are, above all others, regarded as requiring

friends. For what good would their prosperity do them if it

did not provide them with the opportunity for good works?
And the best works done and those which deserve the highest
10 praise are those that are done to one's friends. How could pros-
perity be safeguarded and preserved without friends? The
i The human relation of 'friendship' forms the subject of this book
and the next. As we shall see, the connotations of philia are considerably
wider than those of 'friendship.' Philia is best summed up in the Greek
proverb: kolvcl to. twv <£i'Awv, "friends hold in common what they have."
It designates the relationship between a person and any other person(s)
or being which that person regards as peculiarly his own and to which
he has a peculiar attachment. For example, in Homer the adjective <£iAos,
'dear,' is frequently used of a heart or mind, and also to
person's
describe the relation to one's wife and children. In neither sense would
we speak of 'friendship' in English. But of course, as in English, the
term also expresses (from Hesiod on) the relationship to a person to
which one feels especially attached, i.e., to a 'friend.' On the other side
of the scale, philia constitutes the bond that holds the members of any
association together, regardless of whether the association is the family,
the state, a club, a business partnership, or even the business relation be-
tween buyer and seller. Here again, we would not use the term 'friend-
ship' in English, but expressions such as 'harmony' or 'good will.'
But for the Greek, it is the bond that gives difFerent people some-
thing 'in common' that counts in philia, and it is for that reason, and
especially for itsimportance in social and political matters, that a discus-
sion of it is given more space than is given to any other problem in the
Nic. Eth.

214
 BOOK EIGHT 215

greater it is the greater are the risks it brings with it. Also, in
poverty and all other kinds of misfortune men believe that their
only refuge consists in their friends. Friends help young men
avoid error; to older people they give the care and help needed
to failing powers of action which infirmity
supplement the
brings in and to those in their prime they give the
its train;
opportunity to perform noble actions. (This is what is meant
when men quote Homer's verse:) "When two go together 15

.
": 2 friends enhance our ability to think and to act. Also,
. .

it seems that nature implants friendship in a parent for its

offspring and its parent, not only among men,

in offspring for
but also amongand most animals. (Not only members of
birds
the same family group but) also members of the same race feel
it for one another, especially human beings, and that is why we

praise men for being humanitarians or "lovers of their fellow 20

men." Even when traveling abroad one can see how near and
dear and friendly every man may be to another human being.
Friendship also seems to hold states together, and lawgivers
apparently devote more attention to it than to justice. For
concord seems to be something similar to friendship, and jcon-
cord is what they most strive to attain, while they do their 25
best to expel faction, the enemy of concord. When people are
friends, they have no need of justice, but when they are just,
they need friendship in addition. In fact, the just in the fullest
sense regarded as constituting an element of friendship.
is

Friendship is noble as well as necessary: we praise those who

love their friends and consider the possession of many friends 30
a noble thing. And further, we believe of our friends that
they are good men.
There are, however, several controversial points about
friendship. Some people 3 define it as a kind of likeness, and
say that friends are those who are like us; hence, according to
them, the proverb: "Like to like," 4 "Birds of a feather flock to-

2 Iliad X. 224, tr. Richmond Lattimore.

Homer,
For this view, cf. Plato, Lysis 214a-215d, to which much of the
3 re-
mainder of this paragraph seems to be indebted.
4 From Homer, Odyssey XVII. 218, also quoted by Plato, loc. cit.
 216 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

35 gether," 5
and so forth. On the other side there are those who
say that when people are alike they quarrel with one another
1155b like potters. 6 There are also more profound investigations
into the matter along the lines of natural science: Euripides
speaks of the parched earth as loving the rain while the ma-
5 jestic heaven, filled with rain, loves to fall upon the earth; 7

Heraclitus says that opposites help one another, that different

elements produce the most beautiful harmony, and that every-
thing comes into being through strife; s while Empedocles 9
and others express the opposite view that like strives for like.
Let us leave aside problems which are an aspect of natural
science— for they are not germane to our present field of study
—and investigate those which pertain to man and are relevant
10 to character and the emotions. For example, can friendship
develop in all men, or is it impossible for those who are
wicked to be friends? Is there only one kind of friendship, or
more than one? Those who think that there is only
are there
one kind on the ground that friendship admits of degrees
rely on insufficient evidence: things different in kind also
15 admit of degrees. But these matters have been discussed be-
fore. 10

5 This proverb, which is attested only in Aristotelian writings but is

no doubt much older, means literally, "jackdaw to jackdaw."

« An allusion to Hesiod, Works and Days 25-26, as tr. here by Rich-
mond Lattimore:

Then potter is potter's enemy, and

craftsman craftsman's
is

rival; tramp is jealous of tramp,

and singer of singer.

Plato, loc. cit.,mentions these lines.

also
7 A paraphrase of four lines from an unknown play of Euripides; cf.

frg. 898 (Nauck2), lines 7-10.

8 Heraclitus, frgg. B8 and 80 (DK«).
9 Empedocles, frgg. B 22 (DR6), lines 4-5; 62, line 6; and 90, lines 1-2.
10 The reference is probably to the discussion of degrees in Categories

7, 6b20-27.
 BOOK FIGHT 217

2. The three things worthy of affection

The answers to these questions will perhaps become clear

once we have ascertained what is the object worthy of affec-
tion. 11 For, it seems, we do not feel affection for everything,
but only for the lovable, and that means what is good, pleas-
ant, or useful. However, since we regard a thing as useful
when it serves as a means to some good or pleasure, we can 20
say that as ends (only) the good and the pleasant are worthy
of affection. Which good, then, is it that men love? Is it the
good (in general) or what is good for them? For there is
is it

sometimes a discrepancy between these two, and a discrepancy

also in the case of what is pleasant. Now it seems that each
man loves what is good for him: in an unqualified sense it 25
is the good which is worthy of affection, but for each indi-

vidual it is what is good for him. Now in fact every man does
not love what is really good for him, but what appears to
him to be good. But that makes no difference (for our discus-
sion). It simply follows that what appears good will appear
worthy of affection.
While there are three causes of affection or friendship, we
do not speak of "friendship" to describe the affection we feel
for inanimate objects, since inanimate objects do not recipro-
cate affection and we do not wish for their good. It would
surely be ridiculous to wish for the good of wine: if one wishes
it at all, it is that the wine may keep, so that we can have it 30
ourselves. But men say that we ought to wish for the good of
our friend for the friend's sake. When people wish for our good
in this way, we attribute good will to them, if the same wish is
not reciprocated by us. If the good will is on a reciprocal basis,

11 The Greek philStos is usually rendered 'lovable.' However, since

'love' is too strong a word for the noun philia ('friendship,' 'affection'),
I prefer to use object or thing 'worthy of affection' whenever English
usage permits, and 'lovable' whenever 'object worthy of affection' seems
awkward. Similarly, the verb philein is here translated either as 'to feel
affection' or as 'to love,' depending on the context.
 218 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

it is friendship. Perhaps we should add: "provided that we are

aware of the good will." For many people have good will to-
35 ward persons they have never seen, but whom they assume to
1156a be decent and useful, and one of these persons may well
reciprocate this feeling. Accordingly, the two parties appear
to have good will toward one another; but how can they be
called "friends" when they are unaware how they are disposed
toward one another? We conclude, therefore, that to be friends
men must have good will for one another, must each wish for
the good of the other on the basis of one of the three motives
5 mentioned, and must each be aware of one another's good will.

3. The three kinds of friendship

These three motives differ from one another in kind, and so

do the corresponding types of affection and friendship. In
other words, there are three kinds of friendship, corresponding
in number to the objects worthy of affection. In each of these,
the affection can be reciprocated so that the partner is aware
of and the partners wish for each other's good in terms of
it,

the motive on which their affection is based. 12 Now, when the

10 motive of the affection is usefulness, the partners do not feel
affection for one another per se but in terms of the good
accruing to each from the other. The same is also true of those
whose friendship is based on pleasure: we love witty people
not for what they are, but for the pleasure they give us.
So we see that when the useful is the basis of affection, men
love because of the good they get out of it, and when pleasure
15 is the basis, for the pleasure they get out of it. In other words,

the friend is loved not because he is a friend, but because he is

useful or pleasant. Thus, these two kinds are friendship only

incidentally, since the object of affection is not loved for be-

ing the kind of person he is, but for providing some good
or pleasure. Consequently, such friendships are easily dissolved
20 when the partners do not remain unchanged: the affection
12 E.g., if the basis of their affection is the pleasant, they try to con-
tribute each to the pleasure of the other.
3] BOOK EIGHT 219

ceases as soon as one partner is no longer pleasant or useful to

the other. Now, usefulness is not something permanent, but
differs at different times. Accordingly, with the disappearance
of the motive for being friends, the friendship, too, is dis-

solved, since the friendship owed its existence to these motives.

Friendships of this kind seem to occur most commonly
among old people, because at that age men do not pursue the 25

pleasant but the beneficial. They are also found among young
men and those in their prime who are out for their own
advantage. Such friends are not at all given to living in each
other's company, for sometimes they do not even find each
other pleasant. Therefore, they have no further need of this
relationship, if they are not mutually beneficial. They find
each other pleasant only to the extent that they have hopes 30
of some good coming out of it. The traditional friendship
between host and guest is also placed in this group.
Friendship of young people seems to be based on pleasure.
For their lives are guided by emotion, and they pursue most
intensely what they find pleasant and what the moment
brings. As they advance in years, different things come to be
pleasant for them. Hence they become friends quickly and
just as quickly cease to be friends. For as another thing be- 35
comes pleasant, the friendship, too, changes, and the pleasure
of a young man changes quickly. Also, young people are prone 1 156b
to fall in love, since the greater part of falling in love is a
matter of emotion and based on pleasure. That is why they
form a friendship and give it up again so quickly that the
change often takes place within the same day. But they do
wish to be together all day and to live together, because it is
in this way that they get what they want out of their friend- 5
ship.
The perfect form of friendship is that between good men
who are alike in excellence or virtue. For these friends wish
alike for one another's good because they are good men, and
they are good per se, (that is, their goodness is something

intrinsic, not incidental). Those who wish for their friends'

good for their friends' sake are friends in the truest sense, 10
 220 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

since their attitude is determined by what their friends are

and not by incidental considerations. Hence their friendship
lasts as long as they are good, and (that means it will last for
a long time, since) goodness or virtue lasts. In
is a thing that
addition, each partner both good in the unqualified sense
is

and good for his friend. For those who are good, i.e., good
without qualification, are also beneficial to one another. In
the same double sense, they are also pleasant to one another:
15 for good men are pleasant both an unqualified sense and to
in
one another, since each finds pleasure in his own proper ac-
tions and in actions like them, and the actions of good men
are identical with or similar to one another. That such a
friendship is lasting stands to reason, because in it are com-
bined all the qualities requisite for people to be friends. For,
(as we have seen,) every friendship is based on some good or on

20 pleasure— either in the unqualified sense or relative to the

person who feels the affection— and implies some similarity
(between the friends). Now this kind of friendship has all the
requisite qualities we have mentioned and has them per se,
that is, an essential part of the characters of the friends.
as
For in this kind of friendship the partners are like one an-
other, 13 and the other objects worthy of affection— the un-
qualified good and the unqualified pleasant— are also found
in it, and these are the highest objects worthy of affection. It
is, therefore, in the friendship of good men that feelings of

affection and friendship exist in their highest and best form.

25 Such friendships are of course rare, since such men are few.
Moreover, time and familiarity are required. For, as the prov-
erb has it, people cannot know each other until they have
eaten the specified (measure of) salt together. One cannot
extend friendship to or be a friend of another person until
each partner has impressed the other that he is worthy of af-
fection, and until each has won Those
the other's confidence.
30 who are quick to show the signs of friendship to one another
are not really friends, though they wish to be; they are not true

13 Following the manuscripts, I read o/xoiot in place of the o/xota of By-

water and Aspasius.
4] BOOK EIGHT 221

friends unless they are worthy of affection and know this to

be so. The wish to be friends can come about quickly, but

friendship cannot.

4. Perfect friendship and imperfect friendship

This, then, and complete friendship, both in terms

is perfect
of time and in all other respects, and each partner receives in
all matters what he gives the other, in the same or in a similar

form; that is what friends should be able to count on. 35

Friendship based on what is pleasant bears some resem- 1157a

blance to this kind, for good men are pleasant to one another.
The same is also true of friendship based on the useful, for
good men are useful to one another. Here, too, friendships
are most durable when each one receives what he gives to
the other, for example, pleasure, and not only that: he must
also receive it from the same source, as happens, for example, 5

in friendships between witty people, but not in the case of

lover and beloved. For lover and beloved do not find pleasure
in the same objects: the lover finds it in seeing his beloved,
while the beloved receives it from the attention paid to him
by his lover. But when the bloom of youth passes, the friend-
ship sometimes passes, too: the lover does not find the sight
pleasant (any more), and the beloved no longer receives the
attentions of the lover. Still, many do remain friends if, 10
through familiarity, they have come to love each other's char-
acters, (discovering that) their characters are alike. But when
it is the useful and not the pleasant exchanged in a
that is

love affair, the partners are less truly friends and their friend-
ship is less durable. Those whose friendship is based on the
useful dissolve it as soon be to their advantage,
as it ceases to
since they were friends not of one another but of what was 15
profitable for them.
To be friends with one another on the basis of pleasure and
usefulness
is, accordingly, also possible for bad people, just as

it is good men with bad, and for one who is neither good
for
nor bad with any kind of person at all. But it is clear that
 222 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

good men alone can be friends on the basis of what they are,
for bad people do not hnd joy in one anoiher, unless they see
some maierial advantage coming to them.
20 Also, only the friendship of good men is proof against
slander. For a man does not easily trust anyone's word about
a person whom he has himself tried and tested over a long
period of time. The friendship of good men implies mutual
trust, the assurance that neither partner will ever wrong the
other, and all other things that we demand of true friend-
ship. In the other kinds of friendship, however, there is no
25 safeguard against slander and lack of trust.
(When we say "other kinds of friendship," we do so) because
people call "friends" even those whose relation is based on
usefulness, just as states speak of other states as "friendly."
((The analogy holds) because alliances between states seem
to be motivated by their mutual advantage.) Similarly, those
who like one another for the pleasure they get are called
"friends," as children are "friends" with one another. In view
of that, we, too, should perhaps call such persons "friends"
30 and posit several kinds of friendship: in the primary and
proper sense of the word, we call "friendship" that which exists
between good men as good men. The other kinds are "friend-
ship" on the basis of the similarity (they bear to the primary
kind). In this sense, people are friends to the extent that
(their relationship is based upon) some good and something
similar to (the basis of the primary kind of friendship). Thus
to pleasure-lovers the pleasant is But these two kinds
a good.
of friendship are very unlikely to coincide: the same persons
do not become friends on the basis of usefulness and on the
35 basis of what is pleasant. For things which are related only
incidentally are not usually found coupled together.
1157b These are the kinds into which friendship is divided. Ac-
cordingly, bad men will be friends on the basis of pleasure
or usefulness, since' these are the respects in which they are
like each other, while good men will be friends on the basis of
what they are, that is, because they are good. The good are
friends in the unqualified sense, but the others are friends
5] BOOK EIGHT 223

only incidentally and by reason of the similarity they bear

to the former.

5. Friendship as a characteristic and as an activity

As in the case of virtues, some men are called "good" because 5

of a characteristic they have and others because of an activity

in which they engage, so in the case of friendship there is a
distinction (between the activity of friendship and the lasting
characteristic). When friends live together, they enjoy each
other's presence and provide each other's good. When, how-
ever, they are asleep or separated geographically, they do not
actively engage in their friendship, but they are still char-
acterized by an attitude which could express itself in active
friendship. For it is not friendship in the unqualified sense but 10

only its activity that is interrupted by distance. But if the

absence lasts for some time, it apparently also causes the friend-
ship itself to be forgotten. Hence the saying: "Out of sight, out
of mind." 14

Neither old nor sour people are apparently disposed to

forming friendships. There is only little pleasure one can get
from them, and no one can spend his days in painful or un- 15

pleasant company: we see that nature avoids what is painful

more than anything else and aims at what is pleasant. Those
who extend friendship to one another without living together
are more like men of good will than like friends. For nothing
characterizes friends as much as living in each other's com-
pany. Material advantage is desired by those who stand in 20
need, but company is something which is wanted even by men
who are supremely happy, for they are the least suited to live
in isolation. But it is impossible for men to spend their time
together unless they are pleasant (in one another's eyes) and
find joy in the same things. It is this quality which seems
typical of comradeship.
The highest form of friendship, then, is that between good 25
14 The author of this hexameter verse is unknown. A more literal trans-
lation is: "A lack of converse spells the end of friendships."
 224 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

men, as we have stated repeatedly. For what is good or pleas-

ant without qualification is regarded as an object of affection
and of choice, while for each individual it is what is good or
pleasant to him. But for a good man, a good man is the object
of affection and of choice for both these reasons.
Now, affection resembles an emotion, while friendship is
rather a characteristic or lasting attitude. For it is equally
possible to feel affection for inanimate objects, (which can-
30 not reciprocate the affection,) but mutual affection involves
choice, and choice springs from a characteristic. Also, men
wish their friends' good for the sake of those for whom they
feel friendship, and this attitude is not determined by an
emotion but by a characteristic. Also, in loving a friend they
love their own good. For when a good man becomes a friend
he becomes a good to the person whose friend he is. Thus,
35 each partner both loves his own good and makes an equal
return in the good he wishes for his partner and in the pleas-
ure he gives him. Now friendship is said to be equality, 15
and both those qualities inhere especially in the relationship
1158a between good men.

6. Additional observations on the three kinds of friendship

Friendship does not arise easily among the sour and the
old, inasmuch grouchy and find little joy in
as they are rather
social relations. For a good temper and sociability are regarded
as being most typical of and most conducive to friendship.
That is why young men become friends quickly and old men

do not: people do not become friends of those in whom they

5 find no joy. (This also applies to the sour.) Such men do, how-
ever, display good will toward one another, since one may wish
for another's good and be ready to meet his needs. But they
are not really friends, because they do not spend their days

15 According to Diogenes Laertius VIII. 1. 10, this expression, probably

in the reverse form "Equality is friendship," goes back to Pythagoras.
The word for 'friendship' used here is philotis rather than philia, because
of its assonance with isotis ('equality').
6] BOOK EIGHT 225

together and do not find joy in one another, and these seem to
be the chief marks of friendship. 10

To be friends with many people, in the sense of perfect

friendship, is impossible, just as it is impossible to be in love
with many people at the same time. For love is like an ex-
treme, and an extreme tends to be unique. It does not easily
happen that one man finds many people very pleasing at the
same time, nor perhaps does it easily happen that there are
many people who are good. Also, one must have some ex-
perience of the other person and have come to be familiar 15

with him, and that is the hardest thing of all. But it is possible
to please many people on the basis of usefulness and pleasant-
ness, since many have these qualities, and the services they
have to offer do not take a long time (to recognize).
Of these two kinds of friendship, the one that is based on
what is pleasant bears a closer resemblance to (true) friend-
ship, when both partners have the same to offer and when
they find joy in one another or in the same objects. Friend-
ships of young people are of this kind. There is a greater 20
element of generosity in such friendships, whereas friend-
ships based on usefulness are for hucksters. Also, those who
are supremely happy have no need of useful people, but they
do need pleasant ones: they do wish to live in the company
of others, and, though they can bear what is painful for a
short time,no one could endure it continually— in fact, no
one could continually endure the Good itself, 16 if that were 25
painful to him. It is for this reason that they seek friends
who are pleasant. They should, however, look for friends who
are good as well as pleasant, and not only good, but good for
them; for in this way they will have everything that friends
should have.
People in positions of power seem to keep their various
friends in separate compartments. One group of friends is

useful to them and another pleasant, but rarely do the same

men belong in both groups. For these potentates do not seek
friends who are both pleasant and virtuous nor friends who 30
16 This seems to be a joke at the expense of the Academy.
 226 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

are useful for the attainment of noble objects. On the con-

trary, when their aim is to get something pleasant they seek
witty people, (and when they want what is useful, they seek)
men who are clever at carrying out their orders, and these
found in the same person. Now, as
qualities are hardly ever
we have stated, 17 man who is pleasant and use-
it is the good
ful at the same time. But such a man does not become the
friend of someone whose station is superior to his own, unless
35 that person is also superior to him in virtue. Unless that is the
case, his friendship will not be based on (proportionate) equal-
ity, since he will not be surpassed (by a virtue) proportionate
(to the surpassing power). 18 But potentates of this sort are not
often found.
1158b In sum, the friendships we have so far discussed are based
on equality; both partners receive and wish the same thing
from and for one another, or they exchange one thing for
another, for instance, pleasure for material advantage. That
these kinds of friendship are inferior to and less lasting (than
true friendship) has already been stated. 19 Because of their
5 resemblance and dissimilarity to the same thing, (namely, to
true friendship,) they are regarded both as being and as not
being friendship. They appear to be friendship in that they

17 See above, chaps. 3, 1156bl3-15, and 4, 1157al-3.

is The difficulty about this sentence is that Aristotle has not yet ex-
plained what he means by "proportion" in friendship. That explanation
will come in the next chapter. The point here is that friendship with a
ruler can only be based on on absolute— equality:
a proportionate— not
the ruler, by virtue of his position, bestows more benefits on those in-
ferior to him than he receives from them, and the inferior, in turn, owe
more affection to the ruler than he does to them. Now, since true friend-
ship is based on the virtue of the partners, the potentate, in order to
deserve this excess of friendship, must have an excess virtue, so that the
good man, in addition to the afTcction he owes him as his ruler, can also
give him the love due to a friend. Accordingly, if the ruler's virtue is equal
to his superiority in power, the benefits he will give as a friend will be ex-
actlv as great as those he will give as a ruler, and the good man will
proportionately add to his affection for his ruler exactly the same amount
of love for him as his friend. In this way, proportionate equality is estab-
lished between the two.
10 See above, chaps. 3, 1156al6-24, and 4, 1157a20-33.
7] BOOK EIGHT 227

are like the friendship which based on virtue or excellence:

is

one of these friendships has what is pleasant and the other

has what is useful, and both these elements are inherent in
friendship based on virtue. But since friendship based on
virtue is proof against slander and lasting, while these kinds
—besides many other differences— change quickly, they do not 10

appear to be friendships, because of their dissimilarity.

7. Friendship between unequals

There exists another kind of friendship, which involves the

superiority of one of the partners over the other, as in the
friendship between father and son, and, in general, between
an older and a younger person, between husband and wife,
and between any kind of ruler and his subject. These kinds
of friendship are different (not only from those which involve
equality, but) also from one another: the friendship which
parents have for their children is not the same as that which 15

a ruler has for his subjects, and even the friendship of a father
for his son is different from that of the son for his father, and
the friendship of a husband for his wife differs from that of
a wife for her husband. For in each of these cases, the virtue
or excellence and the function of each partner is different,
and the cause of their affection, too, is different. Therefore,
the affection and friendship they feel are correspondingly dif-
ferent. It is clear that the partners do not receive the same 20
thing from one another and should not seek to receive it. But
when children render to their parents what is due to those
who gave them life, and when parents render what is due to
their children, the friendship between them will be lasting
and equitable. In all friendships which involve the superiority
of one of the partners, the affection, too, must be proportion-
ate: the better and more useful partner should receive more 25
affection than he gives, and similarly for the superior partner
in each case. For when the affection is proportionate to the
merit of each partner, there is in some sense equality between
them. And equality, as we have seen, seems to be part of
friendship.
 228 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

But the term "equal" 20 apparently does not have the same
meaning in friendship as it does in matters of justice. In
30 matters of justice, the equal is primarily proportionate to
merit, and its quantitative sense, (i.e., strict equality,) is

secondary; in friendship, on the other hand, the quantitative

meaning (of strict equality) is primary and the sense of equal-
ity proportionate to merit is secondary. This becomes clear if

there is a wide disparity between the partners as regards

their virtue, vice, wealth, or anything else. For then they are
no longer friends or even expect to be friends. The most strik-
35 ing example of this is the gods, for their superiority in all
good things is exceeding. But the same point is clear in the
1159a case of kings. Persons much inferior to them in station do
not expect to be friends with kings, nor do insignificant people
expect to be friends with the best and wisest men. There is
no exact line of demarcation in such cases to indicate up to
what point (of inequality) men can still be friends. The friend-
ship can still remain even when much is taken away, but
when one partner is quite separated from the other, as in the
5 case of the divinity, it can remain no longer. This raises the
question whether or not we wish our friends the greatest of
all goods, namely, to be gods. For (if that wish were fulfilled,)
they would no longer be our friends, and, since friends are
something good, we would have lost this good. Accordingly, if
our assertion 21 is correct that a man wishes his friend's good
10 for his friend's sake, the friend would have to remain the man
he was. Consequently, one will wish the greatest good for his
friend as a human being. But perhaps not all the greatest
goods, for each man wishes for his own good most of all.

8. Giving and receiving affection

Most people, because of ambition, seem to wish to receive

affection rather than to give it. That is why most men like

15 flattery, for a flatterer is or pretends to be a friend in an in-

20 For the meaning of this term, see p. 117, note 13.

21 See above, chap. 2, 1155b31.
8] BOOK EIGHT 229

ferior position, who pretends to give more affection than he

receives. Receiving affection is regarded as closely related to
being honored, and honor is, aim of most
of course, the
people. But, it seems, they do not choose honor for its own
sake but only because it is incidental to something else. For
most men enjoy being honored by those who occupy positions
of power, because it raises their hopes. They think they will 20
get anything they need from the powerful, and they enjoy the
honor they get as a token of benefits to come. Those, on the
other hand, who desire honor from good and knowing men
aim at having their own opinion of themselves confirmed.
They, therefore, enjoy (the honor they get) because (their be-
lief in) their own goodness is reassured by the judgment of

those who say that they are good. But (unlike honor), affection
is enjoyed for its own sake. Thus, receiving affection would 25
seem to be better than receiving honor, and friendship would
seem to be desirable for its own sake.
Nevertheless, friendship appears to consist in giving rather
than in receiving affection. This is shown by the fact that
mothers enjoy giving affection. Some mothers give their chil-
dren away to be brought up by others, and though they know
them and feel affection for them they do not seek to receive
affection in return, if they cannot have it both ways. It seems 30
to be sufficient for them to see fheir children prosper and to
feel affection for them, even if the children do not render
their mother her due, because they do not know her. 22 Since,
then, friendship consists in giving rather (than in receiving)
and since we praise those who love their friends, the
affection,
giving of affection seems to constitute the proper virtue of 35
friends, so that people who give affection to one another
according to each other's merit are lasting friends and their
friendship is a lasting friendship. 1159b
It is in this way that even unequals are most likely to be
22 The theme of children lost to their parents through war, shipwreck,
piracy, etc.,and growing up not knowing them and unknown to them,
was so common in the comedy of Aristotle's time that it is almost cer-
tainly the source of his remark here.
 230 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

friends, since equality may thus be established between them

(by a difference in the amount of affection given). Friendship
is equality 23 and likeness, and especially the likeness of those
who are similar in virtue. Because they are steadfast in them-
selves, they are also steadfast toward one another; they neither
5 request nor render any service that is base. On the contrary,
one might even say that they prevent base services; for what
characterizes good men is that they neither go wrong them-
selves nor let their friends do so. Bad people, on the other
hand, do not have the element of constancy, for they do not
remain similar even to themselves. But they do become friends
for a short time, when they find joy in one another's wicked-
10 ness. Friends who are useful and pleasant to one another stay
together for a longer time, for as long as they continue to
provide each other with pleasures or material advantages.
It is chiefly from opposite partners that friendship based

on usefulness seems to come into being, for example, from

the combination of poor and rich, or ignorant and learned.
For a man aims at getting something he lacks, and gives some-
15 thing else in return for it. We might also bring lover and be-
loved, beautiful and ugly, under this heading (of the union
of opposites). That is why lovers occasionally appear ridicu-
lous, when they expect to receive as much affection as they
give. If they are similarly lovable, they are equally entitled to
expect affection, but if they have nothing lovable about them,
this is a ridiculous expectation.
But perhaps opposites do not aim at each other as such
20 but only incidentally, and perhaps their desire is really for
what is median, since that is a good. The dry, for example,
does not desire to become wet, but to arrive at a middle state,
and similarly with the hot and with all other opposing princi-
ples. But let us dismiss these questions, as they belong to
another subject, (namely, physics).

23 Cf. p. 224, note 15.

9] BOOK EIGHT 231

9. Friendship and justice in the state

As we stated initially, 24 it seems that friendship and the just 25

deal with the same objects and involve the same persons. For
there seems to be a notion of what is just in every commu-
nity, 25 and friendship seems to be involved as well. Men ad-
dress as friends their fellow travelers on a voyage, their fellow
soldiers, and similarly also those who are associated with them
in other kinds of community. Friendship is present to the
extent that men share something in common, for that is also 30
the extent to which they share a view of what is just. And the
proverb "friends hold in common what they have" is correct,
for friendship consists in community. Brothers and bosom
companions hold everything in common, while all others
only hold certain definite things in common— some more and
others less, since some friendships are more intense than
others. Questions of what is just also differ (with different 35
forms of friendship). What is just is not the same for parents
with regard to their children and for brothers with regard 1160a
to one another, nor is it the same for bosom companions as for
fellow citizens, and similarly in the other kinds of friendship.
There is of course a corresponding difference in what is un-
just in each of these relationships: the gravity of an unjust
act increases in proportion as the person to whom it is done
is a closer friend. It is, for example, more shocking to defraud
a bosom companion of money than a fellow citizen, to refuse 5
help to a brother than to refuse it to a stranger, or to strike
one's father than to strike any other person. It is natural that
the element of justice increases with (the closeness of) the
friendship, since friendship and what is just exist in the same
relationship and are coextensive in range.
24 See above, chap. 1, 1155a22-28.
25 See Glossary for explanation of the term koinonia, here translated as
'community or social organism.' It is one of the key concepts of Aristotle's
social and political thought. In view of what has been said in note 1, p.
214, the importance of philia ('friendship') in any koinonia is evident.
 232 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

All communities are like parts of the political community

10 (or state). Men combine
with an eye to some advantage or to
provide some of the necessities of life, and we think of the
political community as having initially come together and as
enduring to secure the advantage (of its members). This is in-
deed the goal which lawgivers aim at, and men call "just"
what is to the common advantage. Now, all other forms of
15 community aim at some partial advantage. Sailors associate for
the advantages seafaring brings in the form of making money
and something of that sort. Soldiers work together for the
advantages war brings and what they desire is money, victory,
or the conquest of a city. Similarly fellow tribesmen and fel-
low demesmen ^ come together when they offer sacrifice and
hold gatherings for such a purpose, which pays homage to the
gods and provides recreation and pleasure for themselves. For
25 the ancient sacrifices and festive gatherings (of the tribes and
demes) take place after the harvest as a kind of offering of
first fruits, for these were the seasons at which people used to

have most leisure. But all these communities seem to be encom-

passed by the community that is the state; for the political
community does not aim at the advantage of the moment, but
at what is advantageous for the whole of life. Thus all associa-
tions seem to be parts of the political community, but the kind
of friendship prevalent in each will be determined by the
30 kind of association it is.

26 Tribes and demes were political and administrative subdivisions of

the Athenian state and also had certain religious functions. There follow
in the manuscript two lines which are evidently an interpolation made
either by Aristotle himself in a revision of his work or by some later
scholar. For the words which follow the interpolation evidently refer to
the fellow tribesmen and fellow demesmen. The interpolated passage
runs: "Several associations seem to have arisen on the basis of pleasure,
20 e.g., religious guilds and social clubs, which are organized for purposes of

ottering sacrifice and of fellowship." The sentence which follows in the

manuscripts seems to belong more properly a few lines further down after
toU KaipoU, i.e., after the reference to the festivals of denies and tribes,
and I have transposed it there.
10] BOOK EIGHT 233

10. The different political systems 21

There are three (true) forms of constitution 28 and an equal

number of perversions— corruptions, as it were— from these.

The (true) constitutions are kingship, aristocracy, and, in the
third place, a constitution based on property qualification, to
which the description "timocratic" M seems appropriate, though
most people are used to calling it "constitutional govern- 35
ment." Of these three, kingship is the best and timocracy the
worst. The perversion of kingship is tyranny: both are forms 1160b
of one-man rule, but the difference between them is very con-
siderable. A tyrant looks out for his own advantage, whereas
a king looks out for the advantage of his subjects. For only
a person who is self-sufficient and superior (to his subjects) in
all good things can be a king. A person such as that needs

nothing in addition to what he has, and will, therefore, not 5

look to his own advantage, but to that of his subjects. If he
is not a man of this sort, he will be king (in name only and)

merely by virtue of the lot. 30 Tyranny is the exact opposite of

own good. In the case
kingship in that the tyrant pursues his
of tyranny, even more obvious that it is the worst (form
it is

of government than in the case of timocracy, which is still,

after all, a constitutional form of government): what is op-
posite to the best is the worst.
Kingship leads to tyranny. For tyranny is the deprived 10

27 The indebtedness of Aristotle to Plato's account of three true and

three corrupt forms of government in the Statesman 301a-303b is evident
in this chapter, as it is in the identical classification in Politics III. 7.
-8 See Glossary, politeia.
29 Contrary to Plato, who in Republic VIII. 545a-b derives 'timocracy'

from timS ('honor'), Aristotle derives it from timema ('property qualifica-

tion') and means by it a government of property owners, i.e., of those
who have a stake in the country by reason of the property they own.
30 A reference to the Athenian office of the King Archon who, in
Aristotle's time, was appointed by lot and had nothing in common with
a king except the name. The point here is that a selfish monarch is, like
the Athenian magistrate, a king in name only.
 234 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

form of one-man rule, and a wicked king turns into a tyrant.

(Similarly,) aristocracymay change to oligarchy through the
vice of its rulers, when they fail to distribute according to
merit what the city has to offer, when they take all or most
good things for themselves, when they appoint always the
same people to public office, and when they value wealth more
15 highly than anything else. The result will be that a few
wicked men rule instead of the most honest. (The third proc-
ess of deterioration is from) timocracy to democracy. These
two border on one another. For, (like democracy,) timocracy
too tends to be essentially rule of the majority, and all those
who meet the property qualifications are equal. (Of the per-
verted forms,) democracy is the least wicked, since its perver-
20 sion of the constitutional kind of government is only small.
These, then, are the ways in which constitutions are most
likely to change, since the transition (in these three cases) is

shortest and most easily effected.

Resemblances to these forms of government— models, as
it were— can be found in the household. The community or
association of father and sons has the form of kingship, since
25 the father's concern is for his children. That is precisely the
reason why Homer addresses Zeus as "Father," for kingship
means paternal rule. Among the Persians, however, the rule
of the father is tyrannical, since they treat their sons like
slaves. The association of master and slave, too, is tyrannical,
30 since it is the master's advantage which is accomplished in it.
Now, while the relationship of slavery appears correct, the
Persian tyranny (of the father) is mistaken: different kinds
of subjects 31 need different kinds of rule. The association of

31 Several passages from Politics I could be cited to show the precise

difference Aristotle has in mind. The most pertinent is probably 1260a9-
14, quoted by Burnet in his note on this passage:

The manner in which the free rules over the slave is different from that
in which male rules female and a man rules a child. All have the
requisite parts of the soul, but they have them in different ways: the
deliberative element is completely lacking in the slave; the female has

it but without authority; and the child has it but in incomplete form.
11] BOOK EIGHT 235

husband and wife is evidently aristocratic. For the husband's

rule depends on his worth or merit, and the sphere of his
rule is that which is proper to a man. Whatever is more
suited to a woman he turns over to his wife. But whenever
the husband takes the authority over all (household) matters 35
into his hand, he transforms the association into an oligarchy,
since in doing so he violates the principle of merit and does
not rule by virtue of his superiority. Sometimes the wife rules 1161a
because she is an heiress. But of course this kind of rule is not
in terms of excellence or virtue, but is based on wealth and
power, just as in oligarchies. The association of brothers, on
the other hand, resembles timocratic rule: they are equal
except to the extent that they differ in age. Therefore, if the 5

difference in age is no longer of the

great, their friendship is

fraternal kind. Democracy, in turn, is found principally in

habitations which have no master, where everyone is on an
equal footing, and also in communities where the ruler is
weak and everyone can do as he pleases.

11. Friendship and justice in the different political systems

Each of these constitutions exhibits friendship to the same 10

extent that it exhibits (a notion of) what is just. The friend-

ship of a king for those who live under his rule depends on
his superior ability to do good. He confers benefits upon his
subjects, since he is good and cares for them in order to pro-
mote their welfare, just as a shepherd cares for his sheep.
Hence, Homer spoke of Agamemnon as "shepherd of the
people." The friendship of a father (for his children) is of the 15
same kind, but it differs magnitude of benefits be-
in the
stowed. For he is the author of their being, which is regarded
as the greatest good, and he is responsible for maintaining and
educating them. We also attribute these benefits to our ances-
tors. Furthermore, it is by nature that a father rules over his
children, ancestors over their descendants, and a king over his
subjects. These kinds of friendship depend on superiority, and 20
 236 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

that is why we (do not only love but) also honor our parents.
Accordingly, in those relationships the same thing is not just
for both partners, but what is just depends on worth or merit,
and the same is true for friendship.
The friendship between husband and wife is the same as
that in an aristocracy. It based on excellence or virtue: the
is

superior partner gets a larger share of good, and each gets

25 what is suited to him, and the same relationship holds for
what is just.
The friendship of brothers is like friendship among bosom
companions. For they are equal and belong to the same age
group, and where that is the case, men generally have the same
emotions and the same characters. The kind of friendship
which we find in a timocratic form of government is also
similar to this friendship between brothers. For (in timocratic
government) the citizens tend to be equal and decent. They
hold office in turn and on an equal footing, and, accordingly,
their friendship too is based on equality.
30 In the perverted constitutions, the role of friendship de-
creases to the same extent as the part played by the just. It is

least significant in the worst form: in a tyranny, friendship

has little or no place. For where ruler and ruled have nothing
in common, there is no friendship (nor any justice), either.
35 Thus there is nothing just in the relation of a craftsman to his
tool, of the soul to the body, and of a master to his slave. It

is true that in all these cases (the instrument) derives a benefit

161b from its but there can be neither friendship nor any-
user,
thing just in a relationship to inanimate objects. Nor can
either exist with a horse or an ox, nor with a slave as slave,
since the partners have nothing in common. For a slave is a
living tool, and a tool is an inanimate slave. Accordingly,
5 inasmuch as he is a slave, there can be no friendship with him,
but there can be friendship with him as a man. For there
seems to be some element of justice in any human being's
relationship to a man capable of sharing in law and contract.
Therefore, friendship, too, is possible with him inasmuch as
he is a human being. Consequently, friendship and the just
12] BOOK EIGHT 237

can play a small part even in tyrannies. In democracies, their

part is larger, since where the citizens are equal, they have 10

many things in common.

12. Friendship within the family

we have stated, 32 involves a community

All friendship, as
01 association. But we should probably consider friendship
betwe m kinsmen and friendship between bosom companions
separately. Friendships between fellow citizens, fellow tribes-
men, fellow voyagers, and so forth, (as compared with these,)
seem to be determined to a greater extent by the (external) 15

community, in that they are evidently based on some sort of

an agreement (to do certain things in common). With these
we might also classify the friendship between host and guest.
There are, apparently, many kinds of friendship among
kinsmen, but all seem to depend upon parental friendship.
For parents love their children as something which belongs to
them, while children love their parents because they owe their
being to them. But parents know better that the offspring is 20
theirs than children know that they are their parents' off-

spring,and the bond which ties the begetter to the begotten

is which ties the generated to its author. For
closer than that
that which has sprung from a thing belongs to its source, for
example, a tooth, a hair, and so forth belongs to its owner,
but the source does not belong at all—or only to a lesser degree
—to that which has sprung from it. Moreover, (there is also a

difference between the love of parents and the love of chil-

dren) in point of time: parents love their children as soon as
they are born, but children their parents only as, with the 25
passage of time, they acquire understanding or perception.
This also explains why affection felt by mothers is greater
(than that of fathers).
So we see that parents love their children as themselves:
offspring is, as it were, another self, "other" because it exists

separately. Children love their parents because they were

32 See above, chap. 5, 1159b29-32.

 238 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

30 born of them, while brothers love one another because they

were born of the same parents: the identical relation they
have with their parents makes them identical with one an-
other. This is the origin of expressions like "of the same
blood," "of the same stock," and so forth. Brothers are, there-
fore, in a sense identical, though the identity resides in sepa-
rate persons. Of great importance to friendship is common
upbringing and closeness in age: "Two of an age (delight each
other)" and "familiarity makes for fellowship." 33 That is why
35 friendship between brothers resembles friendship between club
members or bosom companions. 34 The bond between cousins
162a and between other relations is based on the bond between
brothers, and thus on the fact that they are (ultimately) de-
scended from the same parents. They feel a more or a less
closeattachment to one another, depending on how close or
remote the common forebear is.
The friendship of children to their parents and of man
5 to the gods is friendship to what is good and superior. For
(parents) are the greatest benefactors (children have): they
are responsible for their being and their nurture, and for their
education once they have been born. But this kind of friend-
ship has also a higher degree of what is pleasant and useful
than does friendship with persons outside the family, inas-
much as the partners have more of their life in common.
Friendship between brothers has elements which are also

°>3 Only the first of these two proverbial expressions is attested else-
where. Plato quotes "two of an age delight each other" in Phaedrus 240c
and Aristotle in the Eudemian Ethics VII. 2, 123Sa34, and in Rhetoric I.

11, 1371bl5.
34 The term hctairos and its derivative adjective hetairikos, which I

have translated as 'bosom companion' throughout this book, may also

have the more technical meaning of 'member of a hetaireia or club.'
Such clubs were political in character toward the end of the fifth century,
but when a law, enacted shortly after the restoration of the democracy
in -103 b.c, prevented the formation of such clubs for political purposes,
thev became purely social in character. If Aristotle is thinking of such
clubs here, we might compare them to the 'fraternal' organizations prev-
alent in modern American society and the custom of their members to
refer to each other as 'brothers.'
12] BOOK EIGHT 239

found in friendship between bosom companions. It has them 10

in a higher degree when the brothers are good men and, in

general, when they are like one another, inasmuch as they are
more closely linked together and have been loving one another
since birth, and inasmuch as children of the same parents,
who have been brought up together and have received a
similar education, are more alike in character. Also, there is

the test of time to which brothers are subjected more thor-

oughly and reliably than anyone else. The friendly relation-
ships among other relatives are analogous, (that is, they vary 15

in proportion to the closeness of their kinship).

The friendship between man and wife 35 seems to be in-
herent in us by nature. For man is by nature more inclined
to live in couples than to live as a social and political being,
inasmuch as the household is and more indispensable
earlier 3G
than the state, and to the extent that procreation is a bond
more universal to all living things (than living in a state).
In the case of other animals, the association goes no further 20
than this. But human beings live together not merely for
procreation, but also to secure the needs of life. There is divi-

sion of labor from the very beginning and different functions

for man and wife. Thus they satisfy one another's needs by
contributing each his own to the common store. For that
reason, this kind of friendship brings both usefulness and
pleasantness with it, and if the partners are good, it may even 25
be based on virtue or excellence. For each partner has his
own peculiar excellence and they can find joy in that fact.
Children are regarded as the bond that holds them together,
and that is why childless marriages break up more easily. For
35 It should be noted that fourth-century Greek did not generally dif-
ferentiate between "man" and "husband" or between "woman" and "wife."
36 A temporal priority is of course meant here. In Politics I. 2, 1253al9,
where Aristotle is concerned with the logical-and not the chronological-
relation between state and household, he says: "The state is by nature
prior to the household and to each of us individually," because the house-
hold and the individual do not reach self-sufficiency, and do not fully
attain their telos or goal without the larger community or association to
which they belong.
 240 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

children are a good common to both partners, and what

people have in common holds them together. How a man is
30 to regulate his life in relation to his wife and, in general, how
a person is to regulate his life in relation to his friend, ap-
pears to be tantamount to inquiring what constitutes just
conduct for them. For just behavior between friends is ap-
parently not the same as between strangers, or as between
bosom companions or club members, or between schoolmates.

13. What equal friends owe to one another

There are, as we said at the outset, 37 three kinds of friend-

ship. Within each kind, people may either be friends on the
35 one partner may be superior to the other.
basis of equality or
In other words, equally good persons can become friends or
a better man can become the friend of a worse, and, similarly,
1162b those who find each other pleasant or whose relation is based
on usefulness may be equal or unequal in the benefits they
confer upon one another. In view of all this, those who are
equal must respect the principle of equality by giving equal
affection to one another and by establishing equality in other
respects, while those who are unequal must make a return
proportionate to their superiority or inferiority.
5 Complaints and reproaches occur only or chiefly in friend-
ships based on usefulness, as is to be expected. For when
people are friends on the basis of virtue or excellence, they
are eager to do good to one another, since that is a mark of
excellence as well as of friendship. In this kind of competition,
complaints and quarrels do not exist, for no one is annoyed
10 at a person for giving affection and being his benefactor;
on the contrary, a cultivated man retaliates by doing good
in turn. If a person gives more than he receives, he will have
no complaints against his friend, since he accomplishes what
he set out to do: for each one desires (to give as well as re-
ceive) what is good.
Nor do complaints occur very much in friendships based on
37 See above, chap. 3, 1156a7.
 13] BOOK EIGHT 241

pleasure. For the desire of both partners is fulfilled at the

same time if they enjoy spending time together. In fact, a
man would impress us as ridiculous if he complained that he
did not find his friend delightful, since he is free not to spend 15

his days with him.

However, friendship based on usefulness is subject to com-
plaints. For where material advantage is the purpose of the
relationship, people always want more and think they have
less than they should have; they blame their partners that they

are not getting all they need, though they deserve it. (In this
case,) the benefactors are unable to satisfy the wants of the 20
recipients.
The just, it seems, has two aspects: one is unwritten and the
other laid down by law. Friendship based on usefulness has
two corresponding one kind seems to be moral and the
aspects:
other legal. Now, complaints are most liable to arise when the
partners contract their friendship in one of these forms and
dissolve it in terms of the other. A friendship formed on fixed 25
conditions is legal friendship. (It takes two forms:) one is
purely commercial and is an exchange from hand to hand,
while the other more generous in allowing time for pay-
is

ment, though it is still based on a quid-pro-quo agreement. In

this kind of relationship, the obligation is clear and not open to
dispute, and, further, the delay in payment contains an ele-
ment of friendship. That is why in some places such cases are
not actionable, and the belief is that people who have transacted 30
business with each other in good faith ought to be on good
terms with one another.
The moral kind of friendship, on the other hand, is not
formed on fixed conditions. Gifts are given or favors done to
the partner as a friend, but the giver expects to get back an
equal or greater amount on the assumption that this was not a
gift but a loan. He will complain because he has not con-
tracted his friendship in the same form in which he dissolves
it, (i.e., he acts as if he had contracted it on fixed terms). The

reason for this is that all men or most wish for what is noble, 35
but in fact prefer what is to their material advantage. It is
 242 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

noble to do good to another person without expecting good

1 163a in return, but it is good deeds.
profitable to be the recipient of
Accordingly, if the recipient is able to do
he ought to re- so,
turn an equivalent of what he received, and he ought to give
it willingly. 38 For we must not treat a man as our friend

against his will: in other words, we must realize that we went

wrong at the beginning when we accepted a good deed from
the wrong person. (In this case) the benefactor was not a
friend and did not act from a motive of friendship. We ought,
therefore, to break off the relationship as if we had been the
5 recipient of a good deed on fixed conditions. (If we had real-
ized at the beginning what the relationship would be,) we
would have agreed to make return if able to do so. On the
other hand, if we were unable to repay, even the giver would
not have expected us to do so. Therefore, we should make re-
turn if we can. But one should examine at the beginning by
whom the good deed is done and what his conditions are, so
that one can accept it on these conditions or reject it.

It is a moot question whether we ought measure a goodto

10 deed by the material advantage the recipient derives from it,
and make the return commensurate with this advantage, oi
whether it should be measured by the beneficence of the per-
son who performs it. Recipients minimize the action and say
that what they received meant little to their benefactors, and
that they might just as well have got it from someone else.
Givers, on the contrary, assert that they gave the most valuable
15 thing they had, that it was not available from any other source,
and that it was given at a critical moment or in an emergency.
Now, since the friendship is based on usefulness the material
advantage to the recipient is surely the true measure. It is
he who stands in need, while the other satisfies it in the ex-
pectation of getting an equivalent return. Accordingly, the
value of the assistance is just as great as the amount of bene-
fit received, and, therefore, the recipient must repay the
20 amount of the advantage he reaped from it— or even more,
for that would be nobler. In friendship based on excellence
8*1 sec no cogent reason for following Grant, Bywater, and Burnet in
bracketing Kal Ikovtl.
14] BOOK EIGHT 243

or virtue, however, there are no complaints, and the moral

purpose or choice of the giver serves as a kind of measure. For
the decisive factor for virtue and character lies in moral choice.

14. What unequal friends owe to one another

In those friendships, too, in which one partner is superior

to the other, disagreements occur.Each partner thinks that he
is entitled to more than the other, and when he gets it the 25
friendship ends. If one partner is better than the other, he
thinks he has more than the other coming to him, since the
larger share ought to be assigned to the good. The same
thing happens when one of the partners is more useful than
the other; people say that a useless man should not have as
large a share (as a useful person). A friendship becomes a
public service 39 if what the man gets out of his friendship is not
what he deserves on the basis of his contribution. The usual 30
view is that a friendship should be like a business partner-

ship: 40 those who contribute more should also take more of

the proceeds. The inferior partner who stands in need takes
the reverse position. It is the mark of a good friend, he argues,
to come to the aid of the needy. What is the use of being a
friend of a man of high moral standards or power, they ask, if 35
you are to getnothing out of it?
Now it seems that both partners are right in their claims: 1163b
each is entitled to get a larger share from the friendship, but
not a larger share of the same thing. The superior partner
ought to be given a larger share of honor and the needy
partner a larger share of profit. For the reward of excellence
a^d beneficence is honor, whereas profit is the (form taken by)
assistance to one in need.
We see the same situation also in political systems. A per- 5
son who contributes nothing good to the common interest is

39 Leitourgia is a public service the costs of which are defrayed by a

private individual. Such leitourgiai included services such as equipping
a warship, training and costuming a tragic or comic chorus, paying the
expenses of a sacred embassy sent by the state to consult an oracle, etc.
40 See Glossary, koinonia.
 244 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
not held in honor. For what belongs to the community is given
to him who works for the common good, and this common
possession is honor. It is impossible to enrich oneself at the
expense of the community and to be honored by the com-
10 munity at the same time. Yet no one can put up with the
smaller share in everything. Therefore, if a man sustains
financial loss, honor is his reward, and if he is venal, money.
For a return proportionate to merit restores equality and
preserves the friendship, as we have said. 41
Accordingly, this is the basis for relations between unequals.
The person who has profited in money or in excellence must
give honor in return, for in giving that he gives what it is

15 possible for him to give. Friendship demands the possible; it

does not demand what the giver deserves. In some cases, in
fact, it is impossible to make the kind of return which the

giver deserves, for instance, in the honors we pay to the gods

and to our parents. Here no one could ever make a worthy re-
turn, and we regard a man as good if he serves them to the best
of his ability.
That is why it would seem that a son does not have the
right to disown his father, whereas a father has the right to
20 disown his son. A debtor must pay his debt, but nothing a
son may have done (to repay his father) is a worthy return for
everything his father has provided for him, and therefore he
will always be in his debt. But a creditor is free to remit the
debt, and a father likewise. At the same time it seems un-
likely that any father would break off relations with his son,
unless the son were exceedingly wicked. For apart from the
natural friendship (which a father feels for his son), it is only
human not to reject the assistance (which a son may offer
in old age). The son, on the other hand, if he is wicked, will
25 regard the task of satisfying his father's needs as something
to be avoided or not to be eagerly pursued. For most people
wish to be the recipients of good deeds, but avoid performing
them because they are unprofitable. So much, then, on this
subject.

41 See above, chaps. 7, 1158b27-28; 8, 1159a33-b3; 13, 1162a34-b4.

 BOOK IX

1. How to measure what friends owe to one another

Wherever friendships are dissimilar in kind, it is proportion

which, as we have stated, 1
establishes equality between the
partner; and preserves the friendship. In a friendship between
fellow citizens, for example, a shoemaker receives an equiva-
lent recompense in exchange for his shoes, and the same is

true of a weaver and of the other craftsmen. Now, in these 35

cases money has been devised as a common measure, and, 1164a

consequently, money is the standard to which everything is
relatedand by which everything is measured. In the friend-
ship between lovers, on the other hand, the lover sometimes
complains that his most passionate affection is not returned,
though it may quite well be that there is nothing lovable
about him, while frequently the complaint of the beloved is 5

that the lover, who first promised everything, now fulfills none
of his promises. Such situations arise when one partner's affec-
tion for the beloved motivated by pleasure, while the other's
is

affection for the lover is motivated by usefulness, and neither

of them has the requisite quality (which the other expects to
find). If this is the basis on which the friendship rests, the
break comes soon as they do not attain the objective of
as
their affection. For each loved the other not for what he was 10
but for what he had to offer, and that was not something last-
ing, and, accordingly, such friendships do not last, either. But
when friendship is based on character, it does last, as we have
l The made in precisely the same form
statement has not so far been
in which Aristotle makes However, he has emphasized the im-
it here.
portance of proportion in mutual exchange in V. 5, 1132b31-33, and
statements similar to the one made here can be found in VIII. 7, 1158b27-28;
8, 1159a35-b3; 13, 1162a34-b4; and 14, 1163all-12. What Aristotle means
by "friendships dissimilar in kind" are those friendships in which the
objectives of the two partners are different, e.g., one partner hopes to get
something useful out of the friendship and the other something pleasant.

245
 246 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

stated, 2 because it is friendship for its own sake, (in which

each partner loves his friend for what he is).

Differences arise when each partner gets something other

(than what he had expected) and not what he desires. Not to
attain what we aim at is like getting nothing at all. It is as
15 in the story of the man who made
promise to the harper: the a
better he would sing the more he would pay him. When the
next morning the singer demanded fulfillment of the promise,
the man replied that he had already repaid the pleasure (he
got from the singing) with the pleasure (he gave the singer
in making him anticipate a reward). 3 Now all would be well,
if were what each partner wanted; but if one partner
this
wants enjoyment and the other profit, and if one has what the
other wants but the other does not, then the terms of their
20 association will not be properly met. For a man concentrates
his efforts on whatever he happens to need, and he will give
what he has in order to get it.

Which person should have the right of assessing the value

of the benefit, the first giver or the first recipient? (The latter,)

since the giver seems to be leaving it up to him. We are told

that this is what Protagoras used to do: after every course he
25 taught he would tell the student to estimate how much the
knowledge gained was worth to him, and that was the amount
he would take as his fee. 4 But in cases of this sort, some people
like the principle: "Let the hire (that has been promised) to a
friend (be made good)." 5
When people take the money first

2 See VIII. 3, 1156b9-12.

3 Plutarch (On the fortune of Alexander 333 f) tells this story of Dio-
nysius, tyrant of Syracuse.
4 Cf. Plato, Protagoras 328b-c.
5 Hesiod, Works and Days 370. Aristotle quotes only the first two words
of the line which we give here in full in Richmond Lattimore's trans-
lation. The lines following this in Hesiod (371-72), also in R. Lattimore's
translation, are:

When you deal with your brother, be pleasant,

but get a witness; for too much
trustfulness, and too much suspicion,
have proved men's undoing.
1]
BOOK NINE 247

and then do not do any of the things they said they would be-
cause their promises were excessive, they of course get involved
in complaints, since they do not fulfill what they had agreed 30

to. The demand payment

Sophists no doubt are compelled to
first, because (otherwise) no one would give money for their
kind of knowledge. So when people are paid in advance, they
are naturally involved in complaints if they took their pay
without doing what they were paid to do.
When no agreement has been made regarding the service
to be rendered, there is, as we said, no complaint against 35
a person who gives freely for his partner's sake, since a friend-
ship based on excellence is free from complaints: recompense 1164b
must be made in terms of the giver's purpose or choice, for in a
friend and in virtue it is the purpose that matters. This, it
seems, is also the way it should be when (teacher and student)
have studied philosophy together. For money is not the stand-
ard by which the worth (of a teacher) can be measured, and
no honor could match what he has given. Still, it is perhaps
sufficient to make what return we can, just as we do in the 5

case of the gods and our parents.

If the gift is not given for the sake of the recipient but on
the understanding that there will be some recompense, the
best thing would of course be that both partners regard the
return as fair. But if they should not reach agreement, it
would seem not only necessary but just that the first recipient
of a benefit assess its value. For if the giver receives in ex-
change an amount equal to the advantage which has come 10
to the recipient or the amount the recipient would have given
for the pleasure, he will have an equivalent return from the
recipient.
We see the same thing happening when something is offered
for sale, 7 and in some places there are laws which provide
that no legal action can be taken to enforce voluntary con-
tracts, on the ground that when one has had common dealings
6 See VIII. 13, 1162b6-13.
7 I.e., the just price is that offered by the buyer who will pay what the
object is worth to him.
 248 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

with a man
in good faith one ought to settle with him in
good (The law) holds that it is more just that the value
faith.
15 be assessed by the man who has been trusted than by the
person who trusted him. For most things do not have the
same value in the eyes of those who have them and of those
who want to get them: what is a person's own and what he
has to offer seems to him to have great value. And yet the
recompense given depends on the value assigned by the recipi-
20 ent. But surely the recipient should not assess the object at the
value it has in his eyes now that he possesses it, but at the
value he attached to it before it came into his possession.

2. Conflicting obligations

There is also the following problem: should a person as-

sign all prerogatives to his father and obey him in everything,
or should he put his faith in a doctor when he is ill, and vote
for a military expert when he must elect a general? Similarly,
25 should he accommodate a friend rather than a good man, and
should he render the thanks he owes to his benefactor rather
than freely give presents to his bosom companion, if he is not
in a position to do both?
Surely, to draw an exact line of demarcation in all these

cases is not an easy matter. Many and various considerations

make one case different from the next in importance and
unimportance as well as in point of what is noble and what is
30 necessary. But it is quite clear that we should not make all
our returns to the same person. Moreover, we must, as a
general rule, repay good deeds rather than do favors for our
bosom companions, just as a loan must be paid back to a
creditor before presents can be given to a bosom companion.
Perhaps even this does not always hold true: when, for ex-
ample, a man has been ransomed from robbers, should he
35 ransom his ransomer in return regardless of who he is, (if the
ransomer falls into robbers' hands) (or repay (the amount of the
ransom), if the ransomer has not been captured but demands
1165a repayment)? Or should he ransom his father? It would seem
2] BOOK NINE 249

that he should ransom his father in preference even to him-

self. Therefore, as we just said, as a general principle we
must repay a debt, but in a situation in which giving is
nobler or more necessary (than repayment would be), we
must abandon principle and make the gift. For there are
times when it would not even be fair and equitable to make
recompense for the original benefit, for instance, when A has 5

done a good deed for B, whom he knows to be a good man,

and B makes a return to A, despite his belief that A is wicked.
There are also occasions when one ought not to make a loan
to a man who has previously made us a loan, for example,
if A has made the loan in the belief he will get it back, be-
cause B is an honest man, while B has no hope of recovering it
from A because A is a bad man. Therefore, if this is the true
situation, the demand (for a loan in return for a loan previ- 10
ously given) is not fair; but if it is not the true situation,
though the second party thinks it is, there would seem to be
nothing peculiar in his refusing. So, as we have often stated, 8
discussions about emotions and actions are no more definite
than the matter with which they deal.
It is now quite clear that we must not make the same re-

turn to everyone and that we should not make all our returns
to our father, just as we do not offer every sacrifice to Zeus. 15
Since the returns we owe to parents, brothers, bosom com-
panions, and benefactors are different, we must render what is
appropriate and fitting to each. This is what people in fact
seem to do: when there is a wedding they invite their relatives,
since they have common family ties, and thus also a common
interest in family affairs. For the same reason, they think that 20
relatives have a special obligation to get together at funerals.
When it comes to providing food it would seem to be our
first objective to satisfy the needs of our parents, since we
owe it to them and
nobler to give this assistance to
since it is

the authors of our being rather than to ourselves. Honor, too,

we owe to our parents, as we owe it to the gods, but not every
kind of honor. We do not owe the same honor to our father 25
8 See I. 3, 1094bIl-27; 7, 1098a26-29; II. 2, 1103b34-1104a5.
 250 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

as we do to our mother, nor again do we owe them the honor

due to a wise man we owe them
or the honor due to a general;
the honor due to a father and a mother, respectively. We also
owe to every older person the honor due his age by getting
up for him, by offering him a seat, and so forth. But on the
other hand, in our relations with our bosom companions and
brothers we can say anything we please and can share every-
thing with them. We must also try to render what is ap-
30 propriate to kinsmen, fellow tribesmen, fellow citizens, and
every other person, and compare what each is entitled to in
terms of the closeness of his relation to us and in terms of
his excellence or usefulness. This comparison is fairly easy
when the persons involved belong to the same group, but it
is more troublesome when they belong to different groups.

None the less, this is hardly a sufficient reason to give up the

35 task, and we must differentiate (between the various obliga-
tions) as best we possibly can.

3. When friendships are dissolved

A further problem whether or not a friendship should

is

1165b be broken off when what he was.

the friend does not remain
Surely, there is nothing strange about breaking friendships
based on what is useful or pleasant when the partners no
longer have the qualities of being useful or pleasant. For
they were friends of these qualities (rather than of the persons
of their partners), and it is only reasonable that the affection
should pass with the passing of the qualities. But there is
reason for complaint, if a person loves another for being use-
5 ful or pleasant but pretended to love him for his character.
For as we said at the beginning, 9 differences between friends
arise most frequently when they are not friends in the sense
they think they are. So when a person has erroneously as-
sumed that the affection he got was for his character, though
nothing in his friend's conduct suggested anything of the sort,

9 See VIII. 13, 1162b23-25.

3] BOOK NINE 251

he has only himself to blame. But when he has been deceived 10

by his friend's pretense, he has every right to complain against

the deceiver. In fact, his complaint is more justified than com-
plaints against those who counterfeit money, inasmuch as he
offends against something more valuable.
If we accept a person as a friend assuming that he is good,
but he becomes, and we think he has become, wicked, do we
still owe him affection? Surely, that is impossible, since only
the good— not anything— is the object of affection. What
just
is evil neither is nor should be an object of affection, for a 15

man must not be a lover of evil, nor must he become like

what is base. As we have said, 10 like is the friend of like.
Should the friendship, then, be broken off at once? Probably
not in every case, but only when a friend's wickedness has
become incurable. But if there is a chance of reforming him,
we must come to the aid of his character more than to the
aid of his property, inasmuch as character is the better thing
and a more integral part of friendship. But no one would re- 20
gard a person who breaks off such a friendship as acting
strangely, because the man who was his friend was not the
kind of man (he turned out to be): his friend has changed,
and since he is unable to save him, he severs his connections
with him.
But if one partner were to remain as he was, while the
other became better and far outdistanced him in excellence,
ought the latter to treat the former as a friend? Surely, that
is impossible, and that it is becomes most obvious when the
distance between them becomes great, as, for example, in 25
childhood friendships. For if one partner were to remain
mentally a child, while the other has grown to be a man
in the best sense of the word, how could they still be friends,
when they neither like nor feel joy and pain at the same
things? They will not even have the same tastes in regard to
one another, and without that, as we saw, 11 it is impossible
10 See VIII. 1, 1155a32-34; 3, 1156bl9-2I.
ii See VIII. 5, 1157b22-21.
 252 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

30 to be friends, since they cannot live together. But we have

already discussed these matters. 12
if he had
Should, then, a former friend be treated just as
never been a friend at No; we should remember our past
all?

familiarity with him, and just as we feel more obliged to do

favors for friends than for strangers, we must show some
35 consideration to him for old friendship's sake, provided that
it was not excessive wickedness on his part that broke the
friendship.

4. Self-love as the basis of friendship

1166a The friendly relations which we have with our neighbours

and which serve to define the various kinds of friendship
seem to be derived from our relations to ourselves. We count
as a friend (1) a person who wishes for and does what is good
or what appears to him to be good for his friend's sake; or (2)
a person who wishes for the existence and life of his friend for
5 the friend's sake. This is also the feeling which mothers have
for their children and which friends who have had a quarrel,
(but are still friends, have for one another). We regard as a
friend also (3) a person who spends his time in our company
and (4) whose desires are the same as ours, or (5) a person who
shares sorrow and joy with his friend. This quality, too, is most
frequently found in mothers. By one or another of these senti-
ments people also define friendship.
10 A good man has all these feelings in relation to himself. All
others have them to the extent to which they regard them-
selves as good; and the measure (of excellence) in particular
instances seems to be virtue and a man of high moral stand-
ards, as we have said. 13 For (4) a good man remains consistent
in his judgment, and he desires the same objects with every
part of his soul. He, therefore, (1) wishes for and does what
15 is good for himself and what appears good to him— for the

mark of a good man is to work hard to achieve the good— and he

^Ibid., 1157bl7-24 and 7, 1158b33-35.
i*Sce III. 4, 1113a22-33.
4] BOOK NINE 253

does so for his own sake, for he does it for the sake of the
intellectual part of himself, which of course is thought to
constitute what each person really is. (2) he wishes Further,
for his own life and preservation, and he wishes it especially
for that part of him with which he thinks. For to a man of
high moral standards existence is good. Everyone (—not a
morally good man alone—) wishes good things for himself;
(but he wishes only for what is good for himself as a man:)
no one would choose to become another kind of being and to 20
14
possess everything good. (In other
have that other being
words, no one would choose to become a god,) for the divinity
already possesses the good, anyway, (and does not have to
wish for it). A person (wishes good for himself) as long as
he remains whatever kind of being he actually is, and it is
the thinking part of each individual that constitutes what
he really is or constitutes it in a greater degree than anything
else. A man like that also (3) wishes to spend his time with
himself, for he does so with pleasure. The memory of his
achievements gives him delight, and his hopes for the future 25
are good; and such memories and hopes are pleasant. More-
over, his mind has an ample supply of subjects for study. (5)
No one shares with himself his own sorrows and pleasures more
than he does. The same thing is at all times painful and
the same thing is at all times pleasant to him, and not dif-
ferent at different times. He is, one might say, a person who
knows no regrets.
Since a good man has every one of these sentiments toward 30
himself, and since he has the same attitude toward his friend
as he does toward himself, for his friend really is another self,

therefore friendship, too, is regarded as being one or other of

these sentiments, and those who harbor them are regarded as
friends. We may dismiss for the moment the question whether
or not friendship with oneself is possible. 15 On the basis of

!•* I see no need for Bywater's bracket around Ikuvo to yevofievov.

The best commentary on this rather elliptical passage is Stewart's. With
the content of this passage, cf. VIII. 7, 1159a5-ll.
15 This question will be taken up in chap. 8 below.
 254 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

what we have said, friendship would seem to be possible to

35 the extent that a man is composed of two or more elements,
1166b and because the extreme degree of friendship can be likened
to self-love.
Most people, however ordinary they may be, appear to have
Now, do men share in these
the attributes just discussed.
sentiments to the extent that they are satisfied with themselves
and assume themselves good? (That seems to be the case,}
5 sinceno one who is thoroughly base and reprobate harbors
them, or even gives the appearance of harboring them. One
might almost say that base people do not even share them,
for (4) they are at variance with themselves and have appetite
for one thing and wish for another, as morally weak people
do: instead of what seems to be good to them they choose
what is pleasant and actually harmful, and others again, from
10 cowardice and laziness, refrain from doing what they think
is best for them. Those who have committed many shocking

crimes and are hated for their wickedness (2) run away from life
and do away with themselves. Wicked men seek the company of
others with whom to spend their days, but (3) they avoid their
own company. For when they are by themselves they remember
15 many events that make them uneasy, and they anticipate
similar events for the future, but when they are with others,
they can forget. Further, since there is nothing lovable about
them, (1) their relations with themselves are not friendly. There-
fore, such people (5) do not share their joys and sorrows with
themselves, for their soul is divided against itself, and while
20 one part, because of its wickedness, feels sorrow when it ab-
stains from certain things, another part feels pleasure: one
part pulls in one direction and the other in another as if to
tear the individual to pieces. If a man cannot feel pain and
pleasure at the same time, he can at least after a little while
feel pain for having felt pleasure at a certain object, and he
can wish that it had not been pleasant to him. Bad people are
full of regrets.
25 We see, therefore, that a bad man's disposition is not friendly
5] BOOK NINE 255

even toward himself, because there is nothing lovable about

him. Accordingly, if to be such a person means utter misery,
we must strain all our efforts to avoid wickedness and must try
to be good. For in this way, a person can have a friendly atti-

tude toward himself and can become the friend of another.

5. Friendship and good will

Good will looks like a friendly relationship, but friendship it 30

is For we can have good will toward people we do not know
not.
and the fact that we have it may remain unnoticed, but there
can be no friendship in such circumstances. That has already
been stated. 16 But good will is not even affection: it lacks
intensity and desire, the qualities which (always) accompany
affection. Further, affection involves familiarity, whereas good
will can arise on the spur of the moment, as it does, for ex- 35
ample, toward competitors in a contest: a spectator may come
to have good will for a competitor and side with him without 1167a
giving him any active assistance. For, as we said, the good w ill r

comes on the spur of the moment and the love is superficial.

So it seems that good will is the beginning of friendship,
just as the pleasure we get from seeing a person is the be-
ginning of falling in love. For no one falls in love who has
not first derived pleasure from the looks of the beloved. But
if someone finds joy in the looks of another, he is not in love 5
with him for all that: (he is in love only) if he longs for the
beloved when he is away and craves his presence. Thus, it is
likewise impossible to be friends without first feeling good will
toward one another, but people who have good will for one
another do not therefore feel mutual affection. For they
only wish for the good of those toward whom they have good
w ill, without giving them active assistance in attaining the
r

good and without letting themselves be troubled in their be- 10

half. Hence one might call good will "friendship" in an ex-
tended sense, but it is inactive friendship. But if it goes on
16 See VIII. 2, 1155b32-1156a5.
 256 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

for a long time and reaches the point of familiarity, it becomes

friendship— not a friendship which is motivated by what is

useful or by what is pleasant, for these factors are not the basis
of good will. When a person has been the recipient of a good
deed, he gives his good will in return for what he has received,
15 and in doing so he does what is just. But if someone wishes
to do good to another in the hope of gaining advancement
through him, he does not seem to have good will for that per-
son, but rather for himself, just as a man is not another's
friend he caters to him for the use he can get out of him.
if

In general, some sort of excellence and moral goodness are

the basis on which good will arises when a person strikes us as
20 beautiful, brave, or something similar, as we said when men-
tioning the competitors in a contest.

6. Friendship and concord

Concord, 17 too, appears to be a friendly relation. That is

why it is not simply an identity of opinion, for even people
who do not know one another might hold the same opinions.
Nor is concord attributed to people who have the same judg-
ment on any subject whatever it may be. (We do not attribute

it,) for example, to those who have the same judgment about
25 the heavenly bodies, since to be of the same mind in these
matters does not constitute a friendly relation. But we do
attribute concord to states, when the citizens have the same
judgment about their common interest, when they choose the
same things, and when they execute what they have decided
in common. In other words, concord is found in the realm of
action, and in the realm of action in matters of importance
and in those matters in which it is possible for both partners
30 or all partners to attain their goals. For example, there is con-
cord in a state when all citizens decide that the offices should
be elective, or that an alliance should be concluded with the
17 Homonoia is primarily a political concept. Literally, it designates
the quality of 'being of the same mind,' 'thinking in harmony.'
6] BOOK NINE 257

Spartans, or that Pittacus should govern them at the time

when Pittacus himself was willing to do so. 18 But when each
of two persons wishes himself to be the ruler, as, e.g., (Eteocles
and Polyneices in Euripides') Phoenician Women, there is

faction. For concord does not consist in two persons having

identical thoughts of any kind at all, but in having them in
relation to the same person, e.g., when both the common 35
people and the better classes 19 wish that the best men should 1167b
rule. For in this way only does everyone attain his goal. We
see, consequently, that concord is friendship among fellow
citizens, and that is indeed the common use of the term. For
its sphere is what is in the common interest and what is im-
portant for life.

Now, this kind of concord exists among good men. They are 5

of the same mind each with himself and all with one another,
since— to use the expression— they never shift their position: 20
the wishes of people like this remain constant and do not flow
this way and that, as the Euripus does. 21 They wish for what
is just and what is in the common interest, and these are their
common goals. Bad men, on the other hand, cannot live in
concord, except to a small extent, any more than they can be 10
friends. They aim at more than their share when material

18 Pittacus was elected sole ruler (aisymnetes) of his native Mytilene

early in the sixth century b.c. in order to reform the government. He
resigned from his rule after ten years, despite the requests of the My-
tileneans that he continue in office. That is the reason why Aristotle adds
the clause: "at the time when Pittacus himself was willing to do so." For
when Pittacus refused, there was one dissenting opinion, that of Pittacus,
and the concord was broken.
i» For epieikes, see Glossary. The connotations in this context are ob-

viously social and political.

20 The exact significance of the
proverbial expression tm tu>v avratv
oi/rcs,which means literally "being on the same things," is not known,
and the translation here aims only at giving the approximate sense.
21 As F. Dirlmeier, Aristoteles:
Nikomachische Ethik (Darmstadt, 1956),
in his note on this passage has shown, the Euripus straits between Boeotia
and Euboea at Chalcis are meant here. The Euripus is still famous for its
irregular, violent current, which changes direction every few hours.
 258 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

advantages are to be gotten, but fall short when it comes to

exertion and to the performance of public services. 22 Each of
them has these wishes only for himself; on his neighbor he
keeps a jealous eye and prevents him (from getting what he
wants). For unless they are on guard (against one another), the
common good goes to ruin. So faction comes to be rife among
15 them, when they force one another to do what is just, though
they are themselves unwilling to do it.

7. Good deeds and affection

thought that benefactors have a greater affection for

It is

who have done

those they benefit than recipients do for those
some good to them, and since this seems to be unreasonable,
people look for an explanation. In the view of the majority,
20 the explanation is that one partner is a debtor and the other
a creditor. In case of a loan the debtor wishes that his creditor
did not exist, while the giver of the loan is actually concerned
for the debtor's safety, so similarly men who have done
a good
deed wish for the existence of its recipients in order to receive
their gratitude in return, whereas the recipients have no in-
25 terest in making a return. Epicharmus would probably say
that those who give this explanation "look at a thing only
from the bad side," 23 but (actually) it seems to be (no more
than) human: most people's memories are short, and they
want to have good done to themselves rather than do it to an-
other.
But, it would seem, the true cause lies more deeply in the
nature of things, and the case of the lender is not even analo-
30 gous. There is no affection between creditor and debtor, but
only the wish for the preservation of the other, in order that
something may be got out of him. But benefactors have affec-
tion and love for those they have benefited, even if they are

22 For the meaning, see p. 243, note 39.

23 Epicharmus was a Sicilian comic poet who lived early in the fifth cen-
tury b.c. The precise significance of this quotation (frg. 146 Kaibel) is

not known.
7] BOOK NINE 259

not useful to them at the moment and are unlikely to be

useful at a later time. The same is also true of craftsmen: every
craftsman loves the work of his own hands more than he
would be loved by it, if it were to come to life. Perhaps poets 35
have this attitude more intensely than anyone. For they exag- 1168a
gerate their attachment to their own poems, and love them as
if they were their children. It is with this kind of attitude that

the sentiment of benefactors is comparable: the recipient of

their benefaction is the work of their own hands, and, ac-
cordingly, they love their handiwork more than it loves its

maker. The reason for this is that existence is for all men 5

desirable and worthy of affection; but we exist in activity, i.e.,

by living and acting, and in his activity the maker is, in a
sense, the work produced. He therefore loves his work, because
he loves existence. And this lies in the nature of things: what a
thing is potentially is revealed in actuality by what it pro-
duces. 24
At the same time, to the benefactor, that which depends
on his action is noble, with the result that the object of his 10
action gives him joy. But the recipient finds nothing noble
in the giver; at most, he finds some advantage in him, but
advantage is less pleasant and less lovable. Pleasant is only the
activity of the present, the hope of the future, and the memory
of the past; and what activity gives us is the pleasantest and
the most lovable, too. Now, the work has permanence for him 15
who achieved it, since what is noble lasts for a long time; but
the use the recipient gets from it is transitory. And while the
memory of noble acts is pleasant, the memory of useful things
is unlikely to be pleasant, or is so to a less degree, though the
reverse seems to be true of anticipation.
Also, affection is something active, while getting affection
is and affection and friendly feelings are the attributes
passive; 20
of the more active of the two partners. Moreover, we all love
a thing more if we got it through effort. For example, those
who have earned their own money love it more than those
who have inherited it. To receive a good deed seems to take no
24 See Glossary, dynamis and energeia.
 260 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

effort, but to do a good deed involves labor. That is, by the

25 way, the reason why mothers love their children more (than
fathers do):birth involves a greater effort on the mother's
part,and she knows more clearly that the child is hers. The
same would also seem to apply to benefactors.

8. Self-love

A further problem
is whether a person should love him-

self or someone most of all. People decry those who love

else
30 themselves most, and use the term "egoist" in a pejorative
sense. Only a base man, it is thought, does everything for his
own sake, and the more wicked he is the more selfishly he
acts. He is, therefore, criticized, for example, for never doing

anything unless he is made to do it. A good man, on the

other hand, is regarded as acting on noble motives, and the
better he is the nobler his motives are: he acts for his friend's
35 sake and neglects his own affairs.
However, the facts are not in harmony with these argu-
1168b ments, and that is not surprising. It is said that we should
love our best friend best, and the best friend is he who, when
he wishes for someone's good, does so for that person's sake
even if no one will ever know it. Now, a man has this senti-
ment primarily toward himself, and the same is true of all
5 the other sentiments by which a friend is defined. For, as we have
stated,- 5 all friendly feelings toward others are an extension
of the friendly feelings a person has for himself. Furthermore,
all proverbs express a similar opinion, e.g., "(friends have)
one soul," "friends hold in common what they have," "friend-
ship is equality," and "charity begins at home." 26 All these
sentiments will be found chiefly in a man's relation to himself,
since a man is his own best friend and therefore should have
10 the greatest affection for himself. Accordingly, it is under-

25 in chap. 4 above.
20 The Greek has: "The knee is closer than the shin," for which Ross
(Ethica Nicomachea), whose rendering I here borrow, uses the more
familiar English equivalent.
8] BOOK NINE 261

standable that there should be a problem which of these two

views we ought to follow, since both are plausible.
When there is a difference of opinion of this sort, we should
perhaps differentiate the arguments from one another and
define the extent and the sense in which each contains truth.
Consequently, if we were to take the sense in which each side
uses the word "egoist," we should probably clarify the matter.
Now thosewho use "egoist" as a term of opprobrium apply it 15

to people who assign to themselves the larger share of material

goods, honors, and bodily pleasures. For these are the objects
which most people desire, and which they zealously pursue as
being supremely good, and for this reason, too, they fight to
get them. Those, therefore, who try to get more than their
share of these things, gratify their appetites, their emotions in
general, and the irrational part of their souls, and most peo- 20
pie are of this kind. Hence, the (pejorative) use of the term is
derived from the fact that the most common form of self-love
is base, and those who are egoists in this sense are justly criti-

cized. That most people usually apply the word "egoist" to

persons who assign to themselves the large share of things of
this sort, is quite clear. If a man were always to devote his at-

tention above all else to acting justly himself, to acting with 25

self-control, or to fulfilling whatever other demands virtue
makes upon him, and if, in general, he were always to try to
secure for himself what is noble, no one would call him an
egoist and no one would find fault with him.
However, it would seem that such a person is actually a
truer egoist or self-lover. At any rate, he assigns what is su-
premely noble and good to himself, he gratifies the most sover- 30
eign part of himself, and he obeys it in everything. Just as a
state and every other organized system seems to be in the truest
sense identical with the most sovereign element in it, so it is
with man. Consequently, he is an egoist or self-lover in the
truest sense who loves and gratifies the most sovereign element
in him. Moreover, when we call a person "morally strong" or
"morally weak," depending on whether or not his intelligence
is the ruling element (within him), we imply that intelligence 35
 262 MCOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

is the individual. And also, we regard a man as being an mde-

1169a pendent and voluntary agent in the truest sense when he has
acted rationally. Thus it is clear that a man is—or is in the
truest sense— the ruling element within him, and that a good
man loves this more than anything else. Hence, it is he who

is in the truest sense an egoist or self-lover. His self-love is

different in kind from that of the egoist with whom people
find fault: as different, in fact, as living by the guidance of
5 reason is from living by the dictates of emotion, and as differ-
ent as desiring what is noble is from desiring what seems to be
advantageous. Those, then, whose active devotion to noble ac-
tions is outstanding win the recognition and praise ofall; and

if all men were compete for what is noble and put all their
to
efforts into the performance of the noblest actions, all the
needs of the community will have been met, and each individ-
10 ual will have the greatest of goods, since that is what virtue is.
Therefore, a good man should be a self-lover, for he will
himself profit by performing noble actions and will benefit
his fellow men. But a wicked man should not love himself,
since he will harm both himself and his neighbors in following
15 his base emotions. What a wicked man does is not in harmony
with what he ought to do, whereas a good man does what he
ought to do. For intelligence always chooses what is best for it-
self, and a good man obeys his intelligence.

It is also true that many actions of a man of high moral

standards are performed in the interest of his friends and of

his country, and if there be need, he will give his life for them.
20 He will freely give his money, honors, and, in short, all good
things that men compete for, while he gains nobility for him-
self. He would rather choose to experience intense pleasure for

a short time than mild pleasure for a long time; he would

rather live nobly for one full year than lead an indifferent ex-
istence for many; and he would rather perform one great and
25 noble act than many insignificant ones. People who die for a
cause achieve this perhaps, and they clearly choose great no-
bility for themselves. A good man would freely give away his
9] BOOK NINE 2G3

money if it means that his friends would get more, for (in this
way) the friend's gain is wealth, while his own is nobility, so
that he assigns the greater good to himself. He acts in the same
way when it comes to honor and public office: he will give
these freely to his friend, since that will bring him nobility 30
and praise. No wonder, then, that he is regarded as a man of
high moral standards, since he chooses nobility at the cost of
everything else. It is even possible that he lets his friend per-

form actions (which he intended to perform himself), and that

he actually finds it nobler to be the cause of his friend's action
than to act himself. So we see that in everything praiseworthy
a manof high moral standards assigns himself the larger share 35
of what is noble. It is in this sense, then, as we said, that he
ought to be an egoist or self-lover, but he must not be an 1169b
egoist in the sense in which most people are.

9. Friendship and happiness

A further problem whether or not a happy man will need

is

friends. It is said that supremely happy and self-sufficient peo-

ple do not need friends, since they already have the good things 5
of life. Therefore, (it is argued,) since they are self-sufficient,
they have no need of anything further; (we need) a friend,
who is another self, only to provide what we are unable to pro-
vide by ourselves; hence the verse: "When fortune smiles, what
need is there of friends?" 27 However, it seems strange that we
should assign all good things to a happy man without attribut-
ing friends to him, who are thought to be the greatest of ex- 10
ternal goods. Also, if do good
the function of a friend is to
rather than to be treated well, if the performance of good
deeds is the mark of a good man and of excellence, and if it is
nobler to do good to a friend than to a stranger, then a man
of high moral standards will need people to whom he can do
good. This raises the further question whether we need friends
more in good or in bad fortune, and by raising it we imply
27 Euripides, Orestes 667.
 264 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

15 that in misfortune a man needs someone who will do good to

him, and in good fortune he will need someone to whom he
may do good.
It is perhaps also strange to make a supremely happv man
live his life in isolation. No one would choose to have all good
things all by himself, for man is a social and political being
and his natural condition is to live with others. Consequently,
even a happv man needs society. Since he possesses what is bv
20 nature good, it is obviously better for him to spend his days
with friends and good men than with anv stranger who comes
along. It follows that a happv man needs friends.
What, then, do the proponents of the first view mean and to
what extent is their view true? The reason why they hold this
view is probably) that most people understand bv friends those
who are useful. Now. a supremely happv man will have no
need of this kind of friend, since he already has the good
25 things of life. Xor will he need a friend for the pleasantness
(of his company), or. if so. onlv to a small extent, for his own
life is so pleasant that he needs no extraneous pleasure. And
since he does not need useful or pleasant friends, people think
that he needs no friends at all.
But that is certainly not true. We stated at the beginning -s

that happiness is some kind of activity, and an activity clearly

is something that comes into being and not something we can

30 take for granted like a piece of property. From the proposi-
tions: (1)' being happy consists in living and in being active,
and, as we stated at the beginning. 29 the activity of a good man
is in itself good and pleasant; (2) what is our own is a pleas-
ant thing to us: (3) we are better able to observe our neigh-
bors than ourselves, and their actions better than our own;
35 and (4) who have a high moral standard
the actions of persons
are pleasant to those good men who are their friends, in that
70a they possess both qualities which are pleasant bv nature, (i.e.,
they are good and they are their own); it follows that a su-
premely happy man will need friends of this kind. His moral
28 See I. 7, 1098al6, and 8, 109Sb3M099a7.
29 See I. 8, 1099al4-15 and 21.
9] BOOK NINE 265

purpose or choice is to observe actions which are good and

which are his own, and such are the actions of a good man
who is his friend.
Also, it is thought that the life of a happy man ought to be
pleasant. Now, (if a happy man lived) in isolation, his life
would be hard. For it is not easy to be continuously active all 5

by oneself; it is easier in the company of and in relation to

others. Accordingly, when an activity is in itself pleasant, as it

must be supremely happy person, it will be

in the case of a
more continuous (if we engage in it together with friends). For
a morally good man, inasmuch as he is a morally good man,
finds joy in actions that conform to virtue and is displeased
by actions which display an expert in music feels
vice, just as
pleasure when he hears beautiful tunes, and pain when he 10

hears bad tunes. We may also get some sort of training in vir-
tue or excellence from living together with good men, as The-
ognis says. 30
If we examine the matter (more profoundly) along the lines
of natural science, a morally good man seems to be by nature
desirable as a friend for a morally good man. For we have
stated 31 that what is by nature good is good and pleasant in 15

itself to a morally good man. Now, in the case of animals, life

is defined by their capacity for sense perception, and in the

case of man
by the capacity for sense perception or for
thought. But a capacity is traced back to its corresponding

activity, and it is the activity that counts. 32 Consequently, life

in the true sense is perceiving or thinking. Life is one of the

30Theognis, line 35 (Diehl3): "You will learn noble things from noble
people." Theognis, an elegiac poet, flourished soon after the middle of the
sixth century u.c.
31 See I. 8, 1099a7-ll, and III. 4, U13a25-33.
32 For 'capacity' (dynamis) and 'activity' (energeia), see Glossary. The
meaning here is makes sense only in terms of the activity
that a capacity
in which it results and which makes it what it is. Cf. Metaphysics ®. 8,
1050a8-ll: "The objective of a thing is its first principle, and the objective
of coming-into-being is the end. And activity is the end, and for its sake
do we acquire the capacity: animals do not see in order to have sight,
but they have sight in order to see."
 266 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

20 things which are good and pleasant in themselves, since it is

determinate and what is determinate belongs to the nature of

the good. But what is by nature good is also good to the good
man, and that is why life seems to be a pleasant thing in the eyes
of all men. Still, we must not take "life" to be a wicked and cor-
rupt existence, nor a life spent in pain; for such an existence
is as indeterminate as its foundations, (vice and pain,) are. The

25 point about pain will be clarified in the sequel. 33

Life is in itself good and pleasant. We can see that from the
very fact that everyone desires it, especially good and su-
premely happy men: for them life is the most desirable of all
things, and their existence is the most blessed. Moreover, when
a person sees, he perceives that he sees; when he hears, he
perceives that he hears; when he walks, he perceives that he
30 walks; and similarly in all other activities there is something
which perceives that we are active. This means that, in per-
ception, we perceive that we perceive, and in thinking we
perceive that we think. But to perceive that we are perceiving
or thinking means that we exist, since, as we saw, existence is
1170b perceiving or thinking. Now, to perceive that we are living
is something pleasant in itself, for existence is by nature good,
and to perceive that that good thing is inherent in us is pleasant.
Further, life is desirable especially for good men, because exist-

ence is good and pleasant to them: they are pleased when they
5 are conscious of the presence in them of what is in itself good.
Also, the attitude of a morally good man is the same toward
himself as it is toward his friend, since a friend is another self.

From all this it follows that just as one's own existence is de-
sirable for each man, so, or nearly so, is his friend's existence
also desirable for him. Now as we saw, his existence is de-
sirable because he perceives his own goodness, and this kind
10 of perception is in itself pleasant. Consequently, he must also
include his friend's existence in his consciousness, and that
may be accomplished by living together with him and by shar-
ing each other's words and thoughts. For this would seem to be

33 See X. 1-5.
10] BOOK NINE 267

the meaning of living together when said of human beings: it

does not mean feeding in the same place as it does in the case
of cattle.
If, therefore, existence is in itself desirable to a supremely
happy man, since it is by nature good and pleasant, and if 15

his friend's existence is almost as desirable to him, we may

conclude that a friend something desirable. But what is
is

desirable for a happy man

he must have, or else he will be
deficient in that respect (and, consequently, not supremely
happy). It follows that, in order to be happy, a man needs
morally good friends.

10. How many friends should we have?

Ought we to make as many friends as possible? Or will the 20
mot juste about hospitality, "not too many guests, nor yet
none," 34 also fit friendship in the sense that a person should
neither be friendless nor have an excessive number of friends?
The saying would seem to fit exactly those who become friends
with a view to their (mutual) usefulness. To accommodate
many people in return for what they have done to us is
troublesome, and life is not long enough to do that. Accord- 25
ingly, more friends than are sufficient for one's own life are
superfluous and are an obstacle to the good life, so that there
is no need of them. To give us pleasure a few friends are
sufficient, just as it takes little to give food the right amount
of sweetness.
But, as regards morally good men, should we have as many
in number as possible as our friends? Or is there some limit 30
to the number of friendly relations a person can have, just
as there is a limit to the size of a city-state? Ten persons do
not make a city-state, and when there are a hundred thousand
it is no longer a city-state. 35 The right number is perhaps not
34 Hesiod,
Works and Days 715.
35
Although Aristotle uses the generic term anthropos ('human being')
here, there can be no doubt that his numbers refer only to adult males
who are the only full-fledged citizens. According to the most recent cal-
 268 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

some specific number, but anything that lies between certain

fixed limits. The number of our friends, is, accordingly, also
1171a limited. Perhaps it is the largest number with whom a man
might be able to live together, for, as we noticed, 36 living
together is the surest indication of friendship; and it is quite
obvious that it is impossible to live together with many people
and divide oneself up among them. Furthermore, one's friends
should also be the friends of one another, if they are all going
5 to spend their days in each other's company; but it is an
arduous task to have this be the case among a large number
of people. It is also difficult to share the joys and sorrows of
many people as intensely as if they were one's own, for it might
well happen that one would have to share the joy of one friend
and the grief of another all at the same time.
So the right course is perhaps not to seek to have as many
friends as possible, but as many as are sufficient for living to-
10 gether. In fact, it would even seem to be impossible to be
an intimate friend of many. For that very reason it is also
impossible to be in love with many people: being in love
means to have something like an excess of friendship, and
that is only possible toward one person. Accordingly, intimate
friendship is only possible with a few people.
This seems be corroborated by the way things are. In
to
friendships of bosom companions not many people are in-
cluded, and the friendships celebrated in stories are (always)
15 between two people. 37 Those who have many friends and are

culations, Athens had about 258,000 inhabitants in Aristotle's time, of

whom about 28,000 were adult males; 112,000 if the wives and children
of the citizens are included in the count; 12,000 resident aliens or 42,000
if their families are included; and 104,000 slaves. Cf. Victor Ehrenberg,
The Greek State (Oxford, 1960), p. 33. Plato in Laws V. 737e wants his
city to consist of 5,040 land-owning citizens, a number which Aristotle
in Politics II. 6, 1265al3-17, considers too large. In his own discussion of
the proper size of a city, in Politics VII. 4, 1326a5-b25, Aristotle does not
commit himself to any particular number.
3GSee VIII. 5, 1157M7-24; and 6, 1158a8-10.
37 Such famous friendships are those, for example, of Achilles and Pa-

troclus, and Orestes and Pylades.

11] BOOK NINE 269

on familiar terms with any chance acquaintance are thought

to be friends to none, except in the sense in which there is
friendship among fellow citizens. They are also called "obse-
quious." Now, in the kind of friendship that exists among
fellow citizens, it is actually possible to be friends with many
people without being obsequious and while remaining a truly
good man. But to be a friend of many people is impossible,
if the friendship be based on virtue or excellence and
is to
on the character of our friends. We must be content if we
find even a few friends of this kind. 20

11. Friendship in good and in bad fortune

Is theneed of friends greater in good fortune or in bad?

Men them in both: in bad fortune they need their as-
seek
sistance, and in good fortune they need people with whom to
live together and to whom they will be able to do good, since
men wish to be beneficent. Accordingly, friends are more
indispensable in bad fortune; and that is why the useful kind 25
of friend is needed in such situations. But it is nobler to have
friends in good fortune, and for that reason people look for
good men (as their friends when they are well off), because
it is more desirable to do good to them and to spend one's

time with them.

The very presence of friends is pleasant in both good and
bad fortune. Pain is alleviated when friends share the sorrow.
In this connection, the question might be raised whether 30
friends share a burden, as it were, or whether the truth is
rather that the pain is reduced by the pleasantness which their
presence brings, and by the thought that they are sharing the
sorrow. Let us dismiss the question whether the alleviation is
brought about by these or by some other factors. At any rate,
it is evident that (friendship) brings about what we have said

it does.
It seems that the presence of friends consists in a mixture 35
of several factors. The very sight of friends is pleasant, espe-
cially at a time of misfortune, and it provides some relief from 1171b
 270 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

pain. For, if a friend is tactful, seeing him and talking to him

are a source of comfort, since he knows our character and the
things which give us pleasure or pain. But on the other hand,
5 it is painful to see him pained by our misfortunes, for every-
one tries to avoid being the cause of a friend's pain. For that
reason, manly natures take scrupulous care not to let their
friends share their pain, and, unless a man is extremely in-

sensitive to pain, 38 he cannot bear the pain which (sympathy

for him) gives his friends. In general, such a person does not
let others join in his lamentations, because he himself is not
10 given to lamenting. But womenfolk and womanish men enjoy
it when others join their mourning, and they feel affection for
them as being their friends and sharers of their sorrow. Still,
it is the better type of man w hom we must obviously imitate
T

in all matters.
In good fortune, the presence of friends brings with it a
pleasant way and the pleasant thought
of passing one's time
that they are pleased by the good we are enjoying. This is a
15 reason for thinking that we ought to be eager to invite our
friends to share our good fortunes, since it is noble to do good,
and to be reluctant to ask our friend to share our misfortunes,
since one should let others participate as little as possible in
what is evil. Hence the saying: "That I'm unfortunate is
enough." 39 We should invite our friends to come to our side
chiefly when a little trouble on their part will mean a great
benefit to us.
20 Conversely, it is perhaps man to go unasked
fitting for a
and eagerly doing good is the mark
to a friend in misfortune:
of a friend, and especially to do good to those in need without
being asked, since that is nobler and more pleasant for both

38 The text of the manuscripts here is somewhat peculiar. In following

most translators and commentators, I have strained the usual sense of
alypia, 'absence of pain,' to mean emenda-
'insensitivity to pain.' Apelt's
tion of drv^ia to read a\\mia avoids this difficulty, and mean-
gives the
ing: "and, unless his misfortune is extreme, he cannot bear the pain which
(sympathy for him) gives his friends."
39 The author of this saying is unknown.
12] BOOK NINE 271

partners. It is also fitting to join eagerly in the activities of a

friend who enjoying good fortune, for here, too, friends are
is

needed; but we should take our time in going to enjoy the

fruits of their good fortune, for to be eager to receive a bene- 25
fit is not noble. Still, we should perhaps scrupulously avoid
the reputation of being disagreeable in rejecting their kind-
nesses, for that happens occasionally. So we see that the
presence of friends is desirable in all circumstances.

12. Friends must live together

What lovers love most is to see one another, and they prefer
sight to all the other senses, because love exists and is gener- 30
ated by sight more than by any other sense. Is it, similarly,
true of friends that the most desirable thing for them is to live
together? (Apparently, yes;) for friendship is an association or

community, and a person has the same attitude toward his

friend as he has toward himself. Now, since a man's percep-
tion that he exists is desirable, his perception of his friend's
existence is desirable, too. But only by living together can the
perception of a friend's existence be activated, so that it stands 35
to reason that friends aim at living together. And whatever 1172a
his existence means to each partner individually or whatever
is the purpose that makes his life desirable, he wishes to pur-

sue it together with his friends. That is why some friends

drink together or play dice together, while others go in for
sports together and hunt together, or join in the study of phi-
losophy: whatever each group of people loves most in life, in 5
that activity they spend their days together. For since they
wish to live together with their friends, they follow and share
in those pursuits which, they think, constitute their life to-
gether.
Thus, the friendship of base people becomes wicked, be-
and by
cause, unsteady as they are, they share in base pursuits,
becoming like one another they become wicked. But the 10
friendship of good men is good, and it increases with (the fre-
quency of) their meetings. Also, it seems, they become better
 272 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
as they are active together and correct one another: from the
mould of the other each takes the imprint of the traits he
likes,whence the saying: "Noble things from noble people." 40
Let this be enough of our treatment of friendship. Our next
15 task is a discussion of pleasure.

40 See p. 265, note 30.

 BOOK X

1. The two views about pleasure

After this, a discussion of pleasure is no doubt our next
task. 1
Pleasure is considered to be deeply ingrained in the
human race, and that is why in educating the young wc use 20
pleasure and pain as rudders with which to steer them straight.
Moreover, to like and to dislike what one should is thought
to be of greatest importance in developing excellence of char-
acter. For in view- of the fact that people choose the pleasant
and avoid the painful, pleasure and pain pervade the whole of
life and have the capacity of exerting a decisive influence for

a life of excellence or virtue and happiness. Surely, a subject 25

as important as this ought not to be omitted, especially since

it is very controversial.
One school asserts that pleasure is the good, 2 and another
the opposite view that it is utterly base.* While some of the
latter school are no doubt convinced that pleasure is actually
bad, others think that conducive to living a better life to
it is 30
create an impression that pleasure is a base thing even if it is
not: most people, they argue, gravitate toward pleasure and
become slaves to it, so that they ought to be driven in the op-
posite direction, in order thus to reach the median.
But surely this view cannot be correct. When it comes to
emotions and actions, what is said is less reliable than what is 35
done; and, consequently, when words clash with perceived
facts, they are scorned and bring the truth into discredit be- 1172b
i Here begins the second and more mature discussion of pleasure. For
its relation to the earlier discussion, see p. 203, note 59.
2 Eudoxus and his followers are meant; see I. 12, 1101b27-34, and chap.
2 below.
3 Speusippus, who succeeded Plato as head of the Academy, is meant.
Though he mentioned by name in connection with this theory in VII.
is

13, 1153b5, his name is not mentioned in the discussion of his theory in
chap. 2 below.

273
 274 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

sides.For if a man who (constantly) disparages pleasure is once

seen pursuing it, people will take his lapse to mean that he
really considers all pleasure desirable; for drawing fine dis-
tinctions not the strong point of most people. So it seems
is

that true assertions are not only most useful for knowledge,
5 but also for For since they are in harmony with the facts,
life.

they gain credence, and so induce those who have understand-

ing to guide their lives by them. But enough of this, and on to
the various views on pleasure.

2. Eudoxus' view: pleasure is the good

Eudoxus 4 believed that pleasure is the good (for the follow-

10 ing reasons). He saw and irrational,
that all things, rational
strive for pleasure, and that in all situations what is good is
desirable, and that which is most desirable is best. The fact
that everything strives for the same goal indicated to him that
this goal is the best for all. He believed that each individual
finds what is good for himself just as he finds his proper food;
but what is good for all and for which all strive, that is the
15 supreme good. Eudoxus' arguments gained credence more be-
cause of his excellent character than on their own merit. As
he had the reputation of being a man of unusual self-control,
people thought that he was propounding his theories not be-
cause he was addicted to pleasure, but because what he said
was actually true.
Eudoxus thought that the same conclusion followed just as
plainly from an examination of the opposite of pleasure. Since
pain, he argued, is as such avoided by all, pleasure, its oppo-
20 site, is conversely desirable. Again, he held that a thing is most

desirable when we choose it not on account of or for the sake

4 Eudoxus of Cnidus (ca. 408-355 B.C.) was primarily a mathematician

and astronomer, but also made contributions to medicine, geography, and

philosophy. After a brief visit to Athens, in the course of which he made
the acquaintance of Plato, he transferred his school from Cyzicus to
Athens in 368 B.C. For his work, see T. L. Heath, A History of Greek
Mathematics, Vol. I (Oxford, 1921), pp. 322-34.
 2] BOOK TEN 275

of something else, and that it is pleasure which is generally

acknowledged to have this quality: no one ever asks the ques-
tion for what purpose a man is feeling pleasure, because we as-
sume that pleasure is in itself desirable. Further, (he argued,)
the addition of pleasure to any good thing at all, for example,
to just action or to self-control, makes that good thing more 25
desirable; but what is good can be increased only by another
good thing, (and, therefore, pleasure is good).
As for this last argument, it does indeed seem to prove that
pleasure is a good thing, but not that it is more of a good
thing than any other. For every good thing becomes more de-
sirable when combined with another good than when taken by
itself alone. As a matter of fact, Plato uses a similar argument
in his refutation of the view that pleasure is the good: 5 a
pleasant life, he says, is more desirable when combined with
practical wisdom than without it; but if pleasure is better in 30
combination with something else (than alone), it is not the
good, since the good cannot become more desirable by the ad-
dition of something to it. Obviously, the same would apply to
things other (than pleasure): nothing can be the good, if it be-
comes more desirable by the addition of some other thing
which is intrinsically good. What good is there, then, which
does have this quality, and which is, furthermore, a good in
which we can share? It is something of that sort that we are 35
looking for.

Those who object that the aim of all things is not (neces-
sarily)good are talking nonsense. 6 For what all believe to be
true is actually true; and anyone who challenges that basic 1173a
belief will hardly gain more credence by propounding his
view. If the desire for (pleasure) were confined to creatures
that have no intelligence, the objection would make sense, but
how can it make sense when same
intelligent beings share the
desire? But there is perhaps even in inferior beings some nat-
ural good stronger than they are themselves which aims at the 5
good which is properly theirs.
5 Plato, Philebus 20e-22e, 27d, 60a-61b, 67a.
6 This was the view of Speusippus; cf. p. 273, note 3.
 276 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

The objections advanced against (Eudoxus' argument about)

the opposite of pleasure do not seem to be sound, either. The
point is made that if pain is evil, it does not follow that pleas-
ure is good: one evil can also be opposed to another and both
evils can be opposed to something that is neither good nor
evil. The argument is not bad, yet as applied to the problem
under discussion it is not true. For if both pleasure and pain
10 were evil, both ought to be avoided: if they were both neither
good nor evil, neither of them ought to be avoided or one
ought to be avoided just as much as the other. But in actual
fact, we see that people avoid pain as an evil and choose pleas-

uie as a good; it is, accordingly, as a good and an evil that they

are opposed to one another.

3. The view that pleasure is evil

Moreover, if pleasure is not a quality, that does not mean that

it is not a good. For the activities which manifest virtue are

15 not qualities either, nor is happiness; (yet both virtuous

activities and happiness are good).
The assertion is made that, while the good is something de-
terminate, pleasure is indeterminate because it admits of de-
grees. 7 If this judgment is based on the view that we feel pleas-
ure with greater or lesser intensity, (it will have to be admitted
that) the same also holds true of justice and the other virtues.
For when we say of people that they have these virtues, we
clearly speak of them as having certain qualities to a greater
20 or lesser degree and as acting Somemore or less virtuously.
men are more just and more courageous (than others), and
there are also degrees in acting justly and with self-control.
However, if their judgment is based on the various forms
pleasure takes, they allege the wrong cause (of the indeter-
minateness of pleasure), for (the distinction that ought to be
made is that) some pleasures are unmixed and others mL;ed.
Furthermore, there any reason why pleasure should not be
is

25 analogous to health which, though determinate, admits of de-

T For this argument, see Plato, Philebus 24a-25a, 27e-28a, and 31a.
3] BOOK TEN 277

grees? For the proportion (of the various elements, which con-
stitutes health,) is not the same for all persons, nor is it always
the same in the same individual; rather, it can remain the
same up to a point even when it is disintegrating and it can
vary in degree. It is possible, therefore, that the same may also
be true of pleasure.
Again, the assumption is made that the good is something

final and complete, whereas motion and coming-to-be are in-

complete, and on that basis they try to prove that pleasure is a 30
motion and a coming-to-be. 8 But to assert that pleasure is a
motion does not seem to be right, either. We think of speed
and slowness as the terms appropriate to all motion; and if a
motion does not in itself (have degrees of velocity}— the motion
of the universe does not— all motion has it in relation to some-
thing else. But pleasure has neither speed nor slowness. It is
of course possible to become pleased quickly, just as we can
fly into a temper quickly; however, the experience itself of
pleasure not quick, not even in relation to (the pleasure ex-
is 1173b
perienced by) some other person, while all such motions as
walking and growing (can be quicker in one case than they are
in another). In short, although it is possible to pass into a state
of pleasure quickly or slowly, speed and slowness are not in-
volved in the active exercise of pleasure, that means, in being
pleased. Also, in what sense can pleasure be considered as a
coming-to-be? It seems that a thing cannot come to be out of 5

just any chance thing, but it is resolved again into that from
which it comes to be. This means that what comes to be through
pleasure passes away through pain.
A further argument of theirs 9 is that pain is a deficiency of
our natural condition, while pleasure is its replenishment. But
deficiency and replenishment are bodily affects. Thus, if pleas-
ure is the replenishment of our natural condition, we will feel
pleasure in that part of us in which the replenishment takes 10
place, and that is the body. However, that is not what is gen-
erally held to be true. Consequently, pleasure is not a replen-

8 Cf. ibid., 53c-54d.

» Ibid., 31e-32b, 35e-36c, and 51b.
 278 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

ishment, although of course we do feel pleased while the re-

plenishment is going on, just as an operation performed on us
gives us, (but is not,) pain. The opinion that pleasure is replen-
ishment seems to have been suggested by the pleasures and pains
connected with food. For when hunger has made us deficient
15 and we have suffered its pain, we later find pleasure in replen-
ishment. But that does not apply to all pleasures: the pleasures
of gaining knowledge involve no pain, nor do, among the
pleasures of our senses, those that come through smell, through
many sounds and sights, memories and hopes. What is there,
then, that these pleasures cause to be? There has been no de-
20 ficiency of which they could be the replenishment.
When culpable pleasures are cited (to support the conten-
tion that pleasure is bad), one might reply (1) that these are
not actually pleasant. If something is pleasant to a person
whose disposition is bad, we must not think that it is actually
pleasant to anyone other than him, just as we would deny that
that is actually healthy, sweet, or bitter which is so to the in-
valid, or that that is white which appears white to a man with
25 an ailment of the eyes. (2) Another answer might be that, even
though pleasures are desirable, they are not desirable when
they come from sources such as these, just as wealth is desira-
ble, but not wealth won by treason, and health is desirable,
but not if it means eating anything and everything. (3) Or one
might retort that pleasures are different in kind. There is a
difference between pleasures that come from noble sources and
pleasures that come from base sources, and the pleasure of a
30 just man cannot possibly be felt by someone who is not just,
nor the pleasure of music by someone who is not musical, and
so forth.
That pleasure is not a good or that pleasures differ in kind
seems also to be evinced by the difference between a friend
and a flatterer. We think of a friend's company as having the
good as its aim, but of the company of a flatterer only as giv-
ing us pleasure; and, while flattery brings reproach, a friend
1174a is praised for associating with us for different purposes. No
one would choose to live his entire life with the mentality of a
4] BOOK TEN 279

child, even he were to enjoy to the fullest possible extent

if

what children enjoy; nor would he choose to find his joy in

doing something very base, even though he were to escape any
painful consequences. Also, there are things for which many
we would would not entail any
exert our efforts even if they 5
pleasure, for example, sight, memory, knowledge, and the pos-
session of the virtues. It makes no difference whether pleasures
necessarily accompany these things, for we would choose them
even if we were to get no pleasure from them.
The obvious conclusion, then, seems to be that pleasure is

not the good, and that not all pleasures are desirable, and
further that some pleasures, which differ one from the other
in kind or in their source, are desirable in themselves. So much 10
for the current views on pleasure and pain.

4. The true character of pleasure

What pleasure is it is will emerge more

or what sort of thing
clearly if we take up
problem from the beginning.
the
We regard an act of vision as complete 10 at any given
moment: it lacks nothing which has to develop later in order 15
to make complete the specific form that constitutes seeing. 11
Something similar seems to be true of pleasure also: it is a
whole, and one cannot at a given moment find a pleasure
whose specific form will be brought to completion only if the

10 Although we translate telcios as 'complete' throughout most of this

chapter and the next, the word also has the connotation of 'perfect'; see
Glossary.
11 What is here rendered as 'specific form' or simply 'form' (eidos) is

that set of qualities which a scientific definition (logos) analyzes into its
constituent parts. Each thing is a composite of matter (hyle) and form
(eidos); e.g., a tree is composed of wood, the matter, and "treeness," the
specific form without which the matter would remain unintelligible. To
analyze this form into its constituent parts (in the case of the tree, having
a bark, leaves, certain definite proportions, etc.) is to define the tree. For
an excellent and clear discussion of the concept of form, especially of its
significance for the Ethics, see H. H. Joachim, Aristotle: The Nicomachean
Ethics, pp. 179-89.
 280 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

pleasure lasts That is precisely why pleasure is not

longer.
motion. For all motion— take building, for example— takes
20 place in time and is directed at an end; it is complete only
when it has accomplished that at which it aims. In other
words, it is complete either in the whole time it takes or at
the moment (when end is reached). The parts and in-
the
dividual moments of any motion are incomplete and each is
different in its specific form from the whole and fiom the
others. Fitting the stones together is not the same as fluting the
columns, and both differ from the construction of the temple.
The is the complete motion, since,
construction of the temple
25 in terms of the whole project, it lacks nothing; but the mo-
tions of laying the foundation and of making the triglyph are
incomplete, since each constitutes a part. Accordingly, these
motions are different in form, and it is impossible to find
a motion which is complete in its form at any given moment,
but, if at all, only in the whole time it takes.
The same is true of walking and every other motion. For
30 if locomotion is motion from one point to another, it, too,
takes different forms, such as flying, walking, jumping, and so
forth. More than even differences in walking:
that, there are
for the point from which the motion starts and the point to
which it proceeds are not the same for an entire racecourse
and for a part of it, and the terminal points of one part are
different from those of another; nor is passing along one line
the same as passing along another, for you do not just pass
1174b along a line, but a line that is in a (definite) place, and one
line is in a different place from another. We have dealt with
the subject of motion in greater detail in another work; 12
however, it seems that motion is not complete at any given
moment, but that the many motions (which make up the
whole) are incomplete and different in form, since the termi-
5 nal points determine the form. Yet the specific form which
constitutes pleasure is complete at any given moment So
pleasure and motion are obviously different things, and pleas-
ure is something whole and complete.
12 In Physics VI-VIII.
4] BOOK TEN 281

This is also shown by the fact that while motion is possible

only in time, pleasure is not in time. For what takes place in a
moment is a whole. This further shows that those people are
wrong who assert that pleasure is motion or coming-to-be. For 10

these terms cannot be applied to everything, but only to what

has parts and is not a whole. There is no coming-to-be of an

act of vision nor of a point nor of a unit: none of these is

motion or coming-to-be, and the same is, accordingly, true of
pleasure, since it is a whole.
All sense perception is actively exercised in relation to its

object, and is completely exercised when it is in good condi- 15

tion and its object is the best of those that can be perceived
by the senses. For something like that seems to come very close
to being complete activity, assuming that it makes no dif-
ference whether we say that the sense perception or the organ
in which it resides is actively exercised. From all this it fol-
lows that in any sense perception that activity is best whose
organ is in the best condition and whose object is the best of
all the objects that fall within its range, and this activity will

be the most complete and the most pleasant. For each sense, 20
and similarly all thought and study, has its own pleasure and
is pleasantest when it is most complete; but it is most com-

plete when the organ is in good condition and the object the
worthiest of all that fall within its range; pleasure completes
the activity. Still, pleasure does not complete the activity in
the same way in which the perceived object and sense percep-
tion do, when both are good, just as health and a physician are 25
not in the same sense the cause of a man's healthy state.

That there is a pleasure for each sense is obvious, for we

speak of sights and sounds as being pleasant. It is also obvious
that the pleasure is greatest when the sense perception is keen-
est and is exercised upon the best object. As long as this is the
condition of the perceived object and the perceiving subject 30
the pleasure will last on, since there is something to act and
something to be acted upon.
Pleasure completes the activity not as a characteristic com-
pletes an activity by being already inherent in it, but as a
 282 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

completeness that superimposes itself upon it, like the bloom

of youth in those who are in their prime. So long, then, as
the object of thought or of sense perception and the discrimi-
nating or studying subject are in their proper condition, there
1175a will be pleasure in the activity. For as long as that which is
acted upon and that which acts remain unchanged in them-
selves and in their relation to one another, the same result
must naturally follow.
How is it, then, that no one feels pleasure continuously? Do
we get tired? (That seems to be the correct answer;) for what-
ever is human is incapable of continuous activity. Conse-
5 quently, pleasure is not continuous, either, since it accom-
panies activity. And for the same reason, some things which
delight us when they are new, give us less delight later on:
our thinking is stimulated and concentrates its activity
at first
upon them. To take sight as an example, people are engrossed
in what they see, but afterwards the activity is not the same
10 but is relaxed, and as a result the pleasure loses its edge.
One is led to believe that all men have a desire for pleasure,
because all strive to live. Life is an activity, and each man
actively exercises his favorite faculties upon the objects he
loves most. A man who is musical, for example, exercises his
hearing upon tunes, an intellectual his thinking upon the sub-
15 jects of his study, and so forth. But pleasure completes the
and consequently life, which they desire. No wonder,
activities,
then, that men also aim at pleasure: each man finds that it
completes his life, and his life is desirable.
We need not discuss for the present the question whether
we choose life for the sake of pleasure or pleasure for the
sake of For the two are obviously interdependent and
life.

20 cannot be separated: there is no pleasure without activity, aid

every activity is completed by pleasure.

5. The value of pleasure

This also suggests that pleasures differ in kind. For when

things differ in kind we believe that their completion is
5] BOOK TEN 283

brought about by something correspondingly different. We

see that this is so in the case of the products of nature as well
as those of art, for example, in the case of animals and trees,

a painting and and a piece of furniture.

a statue, a house
We likewise think of activities which differ in kind as attain- 25
ing their completion through the agency of things which
differ in kind. Now, the activities of thought differ in kind
from the activities of the senses and from one another, so that
the pleasures which complete them are correspondingly dif-

ferent.
This is corroborated by the fact that each pleasure is in-
timately connected with the activity which it completes. For 30
an activity is increased by the pleasure proper to it. People
who engage in an activity with pleasure are more perceptive
in the judgment and accurate execution of particulars; those
who enjoy doing geometry become geometers and understand
the particular facts of geometry more readily, and similarly
those who are fond of music, building, and so forth, become
proficient each in his own proper line of work through the joy 35
he derives from it. Pleasures increase activities, and what
increases a thing is proper to it. But when things differ in
kind there must be a corresponding difference in kind in what 1175b
is proper to them.
This seems to emerge even more clearly from the fact that
the pleasures arising from one activity obstruct those caused
by other activities. Devotees of flute music, for example, are
incapable of paying attention to a discussion if they suddenly
hear someone playing the flute, because they derive greater
joy from flute-playing than from the activity in which they 5
are engaged. Accordingly, the pleasure which flute-playing
brings destroys the activity concerned vvith discussion. The
same thing happens in other cases when a person is
also
engaged in two activities at the same time: the pleasanter
activity crowds out the other; and if the pleasure it gives is
much greater, it crowds out the other all the more to the
point where one engages in it no longer. Therefore, when we
enjoy something very much, we hardly do anything else at all; 10
 284 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

and when something we do gives us only slight satisfaction,

we turn to something else, for example, people who eat candy
in the theater do so especially when the actors are bad. So,
since an activity is made more precise, more enduring, and
better by the pleasure proper to it, but spoiled by pleasures
15 not proper to it, it is clear that there is a great difference be-
tween them. One might almost say that alien pleasures have
the same effect as a pain that comes with a given activity. For
a pain that comes with an activity destroys it; if, for example,
writing or doing sums is unpleasant and irritating for a per-
son, he does not write or do sums, because the activity is pain-
20 ful. It is, therefore, true that an activity is affected in opposite

ways by the pleasures and by the pains proper to it; and the
pleasures and pains proper to it are those which accompany
the activity itself. Alien pleasures, as we have said, are very
close to pain in their effect: they destroy activity, but not in
the same way.
Now, activities differ from one another in goodness and
25 badness. Some are desirable, others should be avoided, and
others again are indifferent. The same is also true of pleasures,
since each activity determines its own proper pleasure. The

pleasure proper to a morally good activity is good, the pleasure

proper to a bad activity evil. For appetites deserve praise when
their objects are noble, but blame when they are base. But
30 the pleasures inherent in the activities are more truly proper
to these activities than are the desires. The desires are distinct
from the activities in time as well as in their nature, whereas
pleasure is and so little distin-
so closely linked to activity
guished from it that one may dispute whether (or not) activity
is identical with pleasure. At any rate, pleasure seems to be

neither thought nor again sense perception— that would be

35 absurd; but because they are never found apart, some people
get the impression that they are identical.
So we see that differences in activities make for correspond-
ing differences in pleasures. Now, sight is superior in purity
1176a to touch, and hearing and smell are superior to taste, and, ac-
cordingly, their respective pleasures also differ from one an-
5] BOOK TEN 285

other. The pleasures of thought, in turn, are superior to the

pleasures of the senses, and there are further differences within
each class.

Each animal is thought to have its own proper pleasure, just

as each has its own function, for the activity determines the
pleasure. This is shown if we study particular animals: the 5

pleasure of a horse differs from that of a dog and of a man. As

Heraclitus says, an ass would prefer chaff to gold, 13 for food
gives asses more pleasure than gold. Accordingly, as animals
differ in kind, so do their pleasures differ in kind, and it makes
sense that there should be no difference in the pleasures when
animals do not so differ. But as regards men, there is consider- 10
able variation. The same things give delight to some and pain
to others, are painful and hateful to some and pleasant and
agreeable to others. We find this also true of sweetness: the
same things do not seem sweet to a man in fever and to a
healthy person. Nor is the same thing hot to an invalid and to
a man in good condition. The same is true also of other cases. 15

But in all matters of this sort we consider that to be real and

true which appears so to a good man. If this is right, as it
seems to be, and if virtue or excellence and the good man, in-
sofar as he is good, are the measure of each thing, then what
seem to him to be pleasures are pleasures and what he enjoys
is pleasant. It is not surprising that some things which are dis-

agreeable to him are pleasant to someone else; for there are 20

many ways in which men can become corrupted and perverted.
such things are not actually pleasant, but are so only to
Still,

persons of this kind, that is, to persons who have this kind of
disposition.
It is, accordingly, clear that we cannot call pleasures those

which are admittedly base; they are pleasures only to corrupt

people. But of the pleasures which are regarded as decent,
what sort or which particular pleasure are we to claim as being
truly proper to man? Surely, this is shown by the activities in 25
which he engages, since it is these that the pleasures accom-
pany. Those pleasures, therefore, which complete the activities
13 Heraclitus, frg. B9 (DK.6).
 286 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

of a perfect or complete and supremely happy man, regardless

of whether these activities are one or several, can be called in
the true sense the pleasures proper to man. All the rest are
human pleasures only in a secondary and even less than sec-
ondary sense, as are the activities (which they accompany).

6. Happiness and activity

30 Now that we have completed our discussion of the virtues,

and of the different kinds of friendship and pleasure, it re-
mains to sketch an outline of happiness, since, as we assert, it
is the end or goal of human (aspirations). Our account will be

more concise if we recapitulate what we have said so far.

We stated, then, that happiness is not a characteristic; 14 (if

it were,) a person who passes his whole life in sleep, vegetating

35 like a plant, or someone who experiences the greatest misfor-
tunes could possess it. If, then, such a conclusion is unaccept-
1176b able, we must, in accordance with our earlier discussion, 15 clas-
sify happiness as some sort of activity. Now, some activities are
necessary and desirable only for the sake of something else,

while others are desirable in themselves. Obviously, happiness

must be classed as an activity desirable in itself and not for the
5 sake of something else. For happiness lacks nothing and is self-
sufficient. Activities desirable in themselves are those from
which we seek to derive nothing beyond the actual exercise of
the activity. Actions in conformity with virtue evidently con-
stitute such activities; for to perform noble and good deeds is
something desirable for its own sake.
Pleasant amusements, too, (are desirable for their own sake).
We do not choose them for the sake of something else, since
10 they lead to harm rather than good when we become neglect-
ful of our bodies and our property. But most of those who are
considered happy find an escape in pastimes of this sort, and
this is why people who are well versed in such pastimes find
favor at the courts of tyiants; they make themselves pleasant
14 See I. 5, 1095b31-1096a2; 8, 1098b31-1099a7.
15 I. 7, 1098a5-7.
6] BOOK TEN 287

by providing what the tyrants are after, and what they want is 15

amusement. Accordingly, such amusements are regarded as be-

ing conducive to happiness, because men who are in positions
of power devote But perhaps such per-
their leisure to them.
sons cannot be (regarded as) evidence. For virtue and intelli-
gence, which are the sources of morally good activities, do not
consist in wielding power. Also, if these men, who have never
tasted pure and generous pleasure, find an escape in the pleas- 20
ures of the body, this is no sufficient reason for thinking that
such pleasures are in fact more desirable. For children, too,
think that what they value is actually the best. It is, therefore,
not surprising that as children apparently do not attach value
to the same things as do adults, so bad men do not attach
value to the same things as do good men. Accordingly, as we
have stated repeatedly, 16 what is valuable and pleasant to a 25
morally good man actually is valuable and pleasant. Each in-
dividual considers that activity most desirable which corre-
sponds to his own proper characteristic condition, and a mor-
ally good man, of course, so considers activity in conformity
with virtue.
Consequently, happiness does not consist in amusement. In
fact, it would be strange if our end were amusement, and if
we were to labor and suffer hardships all our life long merely
to amuse ourselves. For, one might say, we choose everything 30
for the sake of something else— except happiness; for happiness
is an end. Obviously, it is foolish and all too childish to exert
serious efforts and toil for purposes of amusement. Anachar-
sis 17 seems to be right when he advises to play in order to be

serious; for amusement is a form of rest, and since we cannot

work continuously we need rest. Thus rest is not an end, for 35
we take it for the sake of (further) activity. The happy life is 1177a

16 See I. 8, 1099al3; III. 4, 1113a22-33; IX. 4, 1166al2-13; 9, 1170al3-16;

X. 5, 11 76a 15-22.
17 Anacharsis, who is said to have lived early in the sixth century B.C.,
was a Scythian whose travels all over the Greek world brought him a
reputation for wisdom. He allegedly met Solon at Athens and was num-
bered in some ancient traditions among the Seven Wise Men.
 288 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

regarded as a life in conformity with virtue. It is a life which

involves effort and is not spent in amusement.
Moreover, we say that what is morally good is better than

what is ridiculous and brings amusement, and the better the

organ or man— whichever may be involved in a particular case
5 —the greater the moral value of the activity. But the activity
of the better organ or the better man is in itself superior and
more conducive to happiness.
Furthermore, any person at all, even a slave, can enjoy bod-
ilypleasures no less than the best of men. But no one would
grant that a slave has a share in happiness any more than that
he lives a life of his own. 18 For happiness does not consist in
10 pastimes of this sort, but in activities that conform with virtue,
as we have stated earlier. 19

7. Happiness, intelligence, and the contemplative life

Now, if happiness is activity in conformity with virtue, it is

to be expected that it should conform with the highest virtue,

and that is the virtue of the best part of us. Whether this is
intelligence or something else which, it is thought, by its very
nature rules and guides us and which gives us our notions of
15 what is noble and divine; whether it is itself divine or the most
divine thing in us; it is the activity of this part (when oper-
ating) in conformity with the excellence or virtue proper to it

that will be complete happiness. an activity con- That it is

cerned with theoretical knowledge or contemplation 20 has al-

ready been stated. 21
18 The reason is that a slave, as slave, is an instrument to be used by

another and accordingly cannot dispose of himself. Cf. also VIII. 11,
1161b4-8 and Politics III. 9, 1280a32-34.
19 See I. 7, 1098al6-17; and in this chapter, 1176a35-b9.
20 Theoria is the activity of the mind for its own sake as applied either
such or to the objects of nature (physis) including astronomy,
to reality as
cosmology, biology, etc., or to mathematics. It is, in other words, the
characteristic activity of the "intellectual"— as opposed to the "moral"— vir-
tues. While most translations conventionally render the noun by 'con-
templation,' the present translation has preferred 'theoretical knowledge'
7] BOOK TEN 289

This would seem be consistent with our earlier statements

to
as well as the truth. For this activity is not only the highest—
for intelligence is the highest possession we have in us, and the 20
objects which are the concern of intelligence are the highest
objects of knowledge— but also the most continuous: we are
able to study continuously more easily than to perform any
kind of action. Furthermore, we think of pleasure as a neces-
sary ingredient in happiness. Now everyone agrees that of all
the activities that conform with virtue activity in conformity
with theoretical wisdom is the most pleasant. At any rate, it
seems that (the pursuit of wisdom or) philosophy holds pleas- 25
ures marvellous in purity and certainty, and it is not surpris-
ing that time spent in knowledge is more pleasant than time
spent in research. Moreover, what is usually called "self-suffi-
ciency" will be found in the highest degree in the activity
which is concerned with theoretical knowledge. Like a just
man and any other virtuous man, a wise man requires the
necessities of life; once these have been adequately provided, a 30
just man still needs people toward whom and in company
with whom
to act justly, and the same is true of a self-con-
trolledman, a courageous man, and all the rest. But a wise
man is able to study even by himself, and the wiser he is the
more is he able to do it. Perhaps he could do it better if he
had colleagues to work with him, but he still is the most self-
sufficient of all. Again, study seems to be the only activity 1177b
which is loved for its own sake. For while we derive a greater
or a smaller advantage from practical pursuits beyond the ac-
tion from study we derive nothing beyond the activity
itself,

of studying. Also, we regard happiness as depending on leisure;

for our purpose in being busy is to have leisure, and we wage 5
war in order to have peace. Now, the practical virtues are ac-
tivated in political and military pursuits, but the actions in-

or 'study.* However, it is difficult to avoid translating the adjective theo-

retikos by 'contemplative* when it describes the kind of life which is de-
voted to theoria.
21 Actually, this has not yet been stated, but it may be inferred from
I. 5, 1095bl4-1196a5; VI. 7, 1141al8-b3; 12, 1143b33-1144a6; 13, 1145a6-ll.
 290 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

volved in these pursuits seem to be unleisurely. This is com-

pletely true of military pursuits, since no one chooses to wage
10 war or foments war he would have to be
for the sake of war;
utterly bloodthirsty if he were to make enemies of his friends
simply in order to have battle and slaughter. But the activity
of the statesman, too, has no leisure. It attempts to gain ad-
vantages beyond political action, advantages such as political
power, prestige, or at least happiness for the statesman himself
and his fellow citizens, and that is something other than polit-
15 ical activity: after all, the very fact that we investigate politics
shows that it is not the same (as happiness). Therefore, if we
take as established (1) that political and military actions sur-
pass all other actions that conform with virtue in nobility and
grandeur; (2) that they are unleisurely, aim at an end, and are
not chosen for their own our in-
sake; (3) that the activity of
telligence, inasmuch an activity concerned with theo-
as it is

retical knowledge, is thought to be of greater value than the

20 others, aims at no end beyond itself, and has a pleasure proper
to itself— and pleasure increases activity; and (4) that the qual-
ities of this activity evidently are self-sufficiency, leisure, as
much freedom from human being can have, and
fatigue as a
whatever supremely happy man; it fol-
else falls to the lot of a
lows that the activity of our intelligence constitutes the com-
plete happiness of man, provided that it encompasses a com-
25 plete span of life; for nothing connected with happiness must
be incomplete.
However, such a life would be more than human. A man who
would live it would do so not insofar as he is human, but be-
cause there is a divine element within him. This divine element
is as far above our composite nature 22 as its activity is
above the
active exercise of the other, (i.e., practical,) kind of virtue. So if
30 it is true that intelligence is divine in comparison with man,

then a life guided by intelligence is divine in comparison with

human life. We must not follow those who advise us to have

human thoughts, since we are (only) men, and mortal thoughts,

22 Man, consisting of soul and body, i.e., of form and matter, is a
composite being, whereas the divine, being all intelligence, is not.
8] BOOK TEN 291

as mortals should;on the contrary, we should try to become

immortal is possible and do our utmost to live in
as far as that
accordance with what is highest in us. For though this is a
small portion (of our nature), 23 it far surpasses everything else 1178a
in power and value. One might even regard it as each man's
true self, since it is the controlling and better part. It would,
therefore, be strange if a man chose not to live his own life

but someone else's.

Moreover, what we stated before 24 will apply here, too:

what is by nature proper to each thing will be at once the best 5

and the most pleasant for it. In other words, a life guided by
intelligence is the best and most pleasant for man, inasmuch
as intelligence, above all else, is man. Consequently, this kind
of life is the happiest.

8. The advantages of the contemplative life

A life guided by the other kind of virtue, (the practical,) is

happy in a secondary sense, since its active exercise is confined

to man. It is in our dealings with one another that we perform
just, courageous, and other virtuous acts, when we observe the 10

proper kind of behavior toward each man in private trans-

actions, in meeting his needs, in all manner of actions, and in
our emotions, and all of these are, as we see, peculiarly human.
Moreover, some moral acts seem to be determined by our bod-
ily and virtue or excellence of character seems in
condition,
many ways There is also a close
closely related to the emotions. 15
mutual connection between practical wisdom and excellence
of character, since the fundamental principles of practical wis-
dom are determined by the virtues of character, while practical
wisdom determines the right standard for the moral virtues.
The fact that these virtues are also bound up with the emotions
indicates that they belong to our composite nature, and the 20
virtues of our composite nature are human virtues; conse-
quently, a life guided by these virtues and the happiness (that
23 Literally, "forthough this is small in bulk."
24 See IX. 9, 1169b30-1170a4; X. 6, 1176b26-27.
 292 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

goes with it are likewise human). The happiness of the intel-

ligence, however, is quite separate (from that kind of happi-
ness). That is all we
shall say about it here, for a more de-
tailed treatment liesbeyond the scope of our present task.
It also seems that such happiness has little need of external

trimmings, or less need than moral virtue has. Even if we grant

25 that both stand in equal need of the necessities of life, and
even if the labors of a statesman are more concerned with the

needs of our body and things of that sort— in that respect the
difference between them may be small— yet, in what they need
for the exercise of their activities, their difference will be great.
A generous man need money to perform generous acts,
will
30 and a just man will need it to meet his obligations. For the

mere wish to perform such acts is inscrutable, and even an un-

just man can pretend that he wishes to act justly. And a cou-
rageous man will need strength if he is to accomplish an act
that conforms with his virtue, and a man of self-control the
possibility of indulgence. How else can he or any other virtu-
ous man make manifest his excellence? Also, it is debatable
35 whether the moral purpose or the action is the more decisive
element in virtue, since virtue depends on both. It is clear of
1178b course that completeness depends on both. But many things
are needed for the performance of actions, and the greater and
nobler the actions the more is needed. But a man engaged in
study has no need of any of these things, at least not for the
active exercise of studying; in fact one might even go so far as
to say that they are a hindrance to study. But insofar as he
5 is human and lives in the society of his fellow men, he chooses

to act as virtue demands, and accordingly, he will need ex-

ternals for living as a human being.
A further indication that complete happiness consists in
some kind of contemplative activity is this. We assume that
the gods are in the highest degree blessed and happy. But
10 what kind of actions are we to attribute to them? Acts of
justice?Will they not look ridiculous making contracts with
one another, returning deposits, and so forth? Perhaps acts of
courage— withstanding terror and taking risks, because it is
8] BOOK TEN 293

noble to do so? Or generous actions? But to whom will they

give? It would be strange to think that they actually have
currency or something of the sort. Acts of self-control? What 15

would they be? Surely, it would be in poor taste to praise

them for not having bad appetites. If we went through the
whole list we would see that a concern with actions is petty
and unworthy of the gods. Nevertheless, we all assume that
the gods exist and, consequently, that they are active; for
surely we do not assume them to be always asleep like Endy-
mion. 25 Now, if we take away action from a living being, to 20
say nothing of production, what is left except contemplation?
Therefore, the activity of the divinity which surpasses all

others in bliss must be a contemplative activity, and the

human activity which is most closely akin to it is, therefore,
most conducive to happiness.
This is further shown by the fact that no other living being
has a share in happiness, since they all are completely denied 25
this kind of activity. The gods enjoy a life blessed in its

entirety; men enjoy it to the extent that they attain some-

thing resembling the divine activity; but none of the other
living beings can be happy, because they have no share at
all incontemplation or study. So happiness is coextensive with
study, and the greater the opportunity for studying, the
greater the happiness, not as an incidental effect but as in- 30
herent in study; for study is in itself worthy of honor. Conse-
quently, happiness is some kind of study or contemplation.
But we need external well-being, since we are
shall also
only human. Our nature
is not self-sufficient for engaging in

study: our body must be healthy and we must have food and 35
generally be cared for. Nevertheless, if it is not possible for
a man to be supremely happy without external goods, we
must not think that his needs will be great and many in order 1179a
to be happy; for self-sufficiency and moral action do not con-
sist in an excess (of possessions). It is possible to perform noble

25 Supposedly the most beautiful of men, Endymion was loved by the

Moon, who cast him into a perpetual sleep that she might descend and
embrace him each night.
 294 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

actions even without being ruler of land and sea; a man's

5 actions can be guided by virtue also if his means are moderate.
That this is so can be clearly seen in the fact that private indi-
viduals evidently do not act less honorably but even more
honorably than powerful rulers. It enough to have moderate
is

means at one's disposal, for the life of a man whose activity

is guided by virtue will be happy.
10 Solon certainly gave a good description of a happy man,
when he said that he is a man moderately supplied with
external goods, who had performed what he, Solon, thought
were the noblest actions, and who had lived with self-control. 26
For it is possible to do what one should even with moderate
possessions. Also Anaxagoras, it seems, did not assume that
a happy man had to be rich and powerful. 27 He said that he
would not be surprised if a happy man would strike the com-
15 mon run of people as strange, since they judge by externals
and perceive nothing but externals. So it seems that our
account is in harmony with the opinion of the wise.
Now, though such considerations carry some conviction, in
the field of moral action truth is judged by the actual facts of
life, for it is in them that the decisive element lies. So we must
20 examine the conclusions we have reached so far by applying
them to the actual facts of life: if they are in harmony with
the facts we must accept them, and if they clash we must
assume that they are mere words.
A man whose activity is guided by intelligence, who culti-
vates his intelligence and keeps it in the best condition, seems
to be most beloved by the gods. For if the gods have any con-
25 cern for human affairs— and they seem to have— it is to be ex-
pected that they rejoice in what is best and most akin to them,
and that is our intelligence; it is also to be expected that they
requite with good those who most love and honor intelligence,
as being men who care for what is dear to the gods and who

2U Solon's views are found in his famous conversation with Croesus,

reported by Herodotus (I. 30-32).
27 Anaxagoras, in DK.6, 59 A 30.
9] BOOK TEN 1:95

act rightly and nobly. That a wise man, more than any other,
has all these qualities is perfectly clear. Consequently, he is the 30
most beloved by the gods, and as such he is, presumably, also
the happiest. Therefore, we have here a further indication that
a wise man attains a higher degree of happiness than anyone.

9. Ethics and politics

Now that we have given an adequate outline of these mat-

ters, of the virtues, and also of friendship and pleasure, can
we regard our project as having reached its completion? Must 35
we not rather abide by the maxim that in matters of action
the end is not to study and attain knowledge of the particular 1179b
things to be done, but rather to do them? knowing
Surely,
about excellence or virtue is not enough: we must try to

possess it and use it, or find some other way in which we may
become good.
Now, if words alone would suffice to make us good, they
would rightly "harvest many rewards and great," as Theognis 5

says, 28 and we would have to provide them. But as it is, while

words evidently do have the power to encourage and stimulate
young men of generous mind, and while they can cause a
character well-born and truly enamored of what is noble to
be possessed by virtue, they do not have the capacity to turn
the common run of people to goodness and nobility. For the 10

natural tendency of most people is be swayed not by a sense

to
of shame but by fear, and to refrain from acting basely not
because it is disgraceful, but because of the punishment it

brings. Livingunder the sway of emotion, they pursue their

own proper and the means by which they can obtain
pleasures
them, and they avoid the pains that are opposed to them. But
they do not even have a notion of what is noble and truly 15

28 Theognis, lines 432-434 (Diehl3), which are, incidentally, also quoted

by Plato, Meno god had granted to the descendants
95e, read in full: "If a
of Asclepius to cure wickedness and the destruction-bent mind of men,
they would harvest many great rewards."
 296 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

pleasant, since they have never tasted it. What argument in-
deed can transform people like that? To change by argument
what has long been ingrained in a character is impossible or,
at least, not easy. Perhaps we must be satisfied if we have
whatever we think it takes to become good and attain a modi-
cum of excellence.
20 Some people it is nature that makes men good,
believe that
others that it and others again that it is teaching.
is habit,
Now, whatever goodness comes from nature is obviously not
in our power, but is present in truly fortunate men as the
result of some divine cause. Argument and teaching, I am
afraid, are not effective in all cases: the soul of the listener
25 must have been conditioned by habits to the right kind
first

of likes and dislikes, just as land (must be cultivated before

it is able) to foster the seed. For a man whose life is guided

by emotion will not listen to an argument that dissuades him,

nor will he understand it. How can we possibly persuade a
man like that to change his ways? And in general it seems that
emotion does not yield to argument but only to force. There-
fore, there must first be a character that somehow has an
30 affinity for excellence or virtue, a character that loves what is

noble and feels disgust at what is base.

To obtain the right training for virtue from youth up is
difficult, unless one has been brought up under the right laws.

To live a life of self-control and tenacity is not pleasant for

most people, especially for the young. Therefore, their up-
bringing and pursuits must be regulated by laws; for once they
35 have become familiar, they will no longer be painful. But it
1180a is perhaps not enough that they receive the right upbringing

and attention only in their youth. Since they must carry on

these pursuits and cultivate them by habit when they have
grown up, we probably need laws for this, too, and for the
whole of life in general. For most people are swayed rather
5 by compulsion than argument, and by punishments rather
than by (a sense of) what is noble. This is why some believe
that lawgivers ought to exhort and try to influence people
9] BOOK TEN 297

toward (a life of) virtue because of its inherent nobility, in

the hope that those who have made good progress through
their habits will listen to them. 29 Chastisement and penalties,
they think, should be imposed upon those who do not obey
and are of an inferior nature, while the incorrigible ought
to be banished abroad. 30 A good man, they think, who orients 10
his life by what is noble will accept the guidance of reason,
while a bad man, whose desire is for pleasure, is corrected by

pain like a beast of burden. For the same reason, they say that
the pains inflicted must be those that are most directly op-
posed to the pleasures he loves.
Accordingly, if, as we have good
said, a man must receive a
upbringing and discipline in order to be good, and must 15

subsequently lead the same kind of life, pursuing what is

good and never involuntarily or voluntarily doing anything
base, this can be effected by living under the guidance of a
kind of intelligence and right order which can be enforced.
Now, a father's command does not have the power to enforce
or to compel, nor does, in general, the command of a single
man, unless he is a king or someone in a similar position. 20
But law does have the power or capacity to compel, being
the rule of reason derived from some sort of practical wisdom
and intelligence. While people hate any men who oppose,
however rightly, their impulses, the law is not invidious when
it enjoins what is right.

But, with a few exceptions, Sparta is the only state in which 25

the lawgiver seems to have paid attention to upbringing and
pursuits. In most states such matters are utterly neglected,
and each man lives as he pleases, "dealing out law to his
children and his wife" as the Cyclopes do. 31 Now, the best
thing would be to make the correct care of these matters a 30

common concern. But if the community neglects them, it

29 This is advocated by Plato in his Laius IV. 722d-723d.
30 This is the view attributed by Plato to Protagoras in Protagoras 325a.
31 Homer, Odyssey IX. 114-115. The Cyclopes, according to Homer,
were savage one-eyed giants.
 298 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

would seem to be incumbent upon every man to help his

children and friends attain virtue. This he will be capable of
doing, or at least intend to do. 32
from our discussion that he will be better capable
It follows

of doing he knows something about legislation. For clearly

it if

matters of common cencern are regulated by laws, and good

35 concerns by laws which set high moral standards. Whether
1180b the laws are written or unwritten would seem to make no
difference, nor whether they give education to one person or
many, just as it makes no difference in the case of mental or
physical training or any other pursuit. For just as legal tradi-
tions and (national) character prevail in states, so paternal
5 words and (ancestral) habits prevail in households— and the
latter have an even greater authority because of the tie of
kinship and of benefits rendered, (for members of a house-
hold) have the requisite natural affection and obedience (to-
ward the father) to start with. Furthermore, individual treat-
ment is superior to group treatment in education as it is in
medicine. As a general rule, rest and abstaining from food
are good for a man with a fever, but perhaps they are not good
10 in a particular case. And an expert boxer perhaps does not
make all his pupils adopt the same style of fighting. It seems
that each particular is worked out with greater precision if pri-
vate attention is given, since each person has more of an op-
portunity to get what he needs.
But a physician, a physical trainer, or any other such person
can take the best care in a particular case when he knows the
general rules, that is, when he knows what is good for every-
one or what is good for a particular kind of person; for the
15 sciences are said to be, and actually are, concerned with what
is common to particular cases. Of course, there is probably
nothing to prevent even a person with no scientific knowl-
edge from taking good care of a particular case, if he has
accurately observed by experience what happens in a par-
ticular case, just as there are some who seem to be their own

W I accept Bywater's suggestion to transpose teal Bpav avrb SvvaurOai

from line 30 to line 32.
9] BOOK TEN 299

best physicians, even though they are incapable of giving aid

to another. Nevertheless, if a man wants to master a skill or 20
art or some theoretical knowledge, he ought, one would think,
probably to go on to a universal principle, and to gain knowl-
edge of it as best as possible. For, as we have stated, it is with
this that the sciences are concerned.
Moreover, a man who wants to make others better by de-
voting his care to them— regardless of whether they are many
or few— should try to learn something about legislation, if
indeed laws can make us good. To inculcate a good disposi- 25
tion in any person, thatany person who presents himself,
is,

is not a job for just anyone; if anyone can do it, it is the man

who knows, just as it is in medicine and in all other matters

that involve some sort of care and practical wisdom.
Is it not, then, our next task to examine from whom and

how we can learn to become legislators? Is it not, as always,

from the experts, in this case the masters of politics? For, as 30
we saw, 33 legislation is a part of politics. Or does politics not
appear to be like the rest of the sciences and capacities? 34
In the other sciences and faculties we find that the people
who transmit the capacity are at the same time actively en-
gaged in practicing what they know, as, for example, physi-
cians and painters. The Sophists, on the other hand, profess 35
to teach social and political matters, but none of them prac-
tices them. That is done by the politicians, whose practice, 1181a
it would seem, owes more to some sort of native capacity and

to experience than to thought. We find that they neither

discuss nor write about these matters— though that would
certainly be nobler than making speeches for the law courts
and the assemblies— nor again that they have succeeded in
making masters of politics of their own sons or any of their 5
friends. But one would expect that they would have done so,
had they been able; for they could not have left a better be-
quest to their cities, nor is there anything they would rather

38 VI. 8, 1141b24-26.
34 The same point is made by Plato, Meno 91a-100c and Protagoras
319d-320b.
 300 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS [CH.

choose to have for themselves, and thus also for those dearest
to them, than a capacity of this kind. Nonetheless, experience
10 does seem to make no mean contribution; for they would not
have become masters of politics simply through their familiar-
ity with political matters. This is why those who aim at a

knowledge of politics also seem to need experience.

But, as we can see, those Sophists who profess to teach
politics are very far from teaching it. 35 By and large, they do
not even know what sort of thing it is or with what kind of
subjects it deals. For (if they did,) they would not have classi-
15 fled it as identical with or even inferior to rhetoric; nor would
they have believed that it is easy to legislate by collecting
the most highly regarded laws. 36 They think that it is possible to

35 The whole of this paragraph (1181al2-bl2) is aimed at Isocrates

(436-338 B.C.), who founded a school of rhetoric at Athens which competed
with Plato's Academy. Aristotle's special target here seems to be Isocrates'
Antidosis, written in 354-353 B.C., in which Isocrates states his views on
education.
36 The passage is full of verbal reminiscences of Isocrates, Antidosis
79-83:

Now I think that all would agree that our laws are responsible for

(having contributed) a very large number of the greatest goods to the

life of mankind. But the use of these laws is naturally confined to the
interest of the affairs of our city and the dealings we have with one
another. If, however, you were to be persuaded by my arguments, you
might administer the whole of Greece well, justly, and in a manner ad-
vantageous to our state. Sensible people ought to devote their efforts
to both (our city and to Greece), but should attach greater value to the
greater and more worthy of these two. Moreover, they ought to recog-
nize that, although tens of thousands of Greeks as well as non-Greeks
are endowed with what talents are needed to enact laws, there are not
many people who are capable of discussing matters of public interest
in a manner worthy of our city and of Greece.
That is why men who make it their business to invent discussions of
this sort must be held in higher esteem than those who enact and
write laws, inasmuch as they are rarer, harder (to find), and require
greater intellectual qualities. This is particularly true of the present.
For when the human race first came to be and began to settle in cities,
all searched for much the same thing as a matter of course. But since
we have reached the point where the arguments advanced and the laws
enacted are innumerable, and where we praise the oldest laws and the
newest arguments, this is no longer a task of a single intelligence: those
who have made it their purpose to enact laws have at their disposal
9] BOOK TEN 301

select the best laws, as if the very selection were not an act
of understanding and as if correct judgment were not the
most important thing here, as it is in matters of music. In
every field, it is those who are experienced that judge its prod-
ucts correctly, and are privy to the means and the manner in 20
which they were accomplished and understand what combina-
tions are harmonious. The inexperienced, on the other hand,
must be satisfied if they do not fail to recognize whether the
work has been produced well or badly. That is the case, for
example, in painting. Laws are, as it were, the products of
politics. Accordingly, how can a man from them to
learn
become a legislator or to judge which are the best? We do not 1181b
even find men becoming medical experts by reading textbooks.
Yet medical writers try at least not only to describe the treat-

ments, but also how particular patients, whom they distin-

guish by their various characteristics, can be cured and how the
treatments are to be applied. Though their books seem useful
for experienced people, they are useless for those who do 5

not have the requisite knowledge. So also collections of laws

and constitutions 37 may perhaps be
good use to those who
of
have the capacity to study them and judge what enactments
are good and which are not, and what kind of measures are
appropriate to what circumstances. But those who go through
such collections without the trained ability 38 (to do so) do

the multitude of laws already enacted. There is no need for them to

seek out new laws, but they must try to collect those laws which are
highly regarded elsewhere; anyone who wants to can easily do this.
But the opposite is true of those who make speaking their business, be-
cause most subjects have been pre-empted; for if they say the same
things that have been said before they will impress their audience as
shameless babblers, and if they look for novel ways, they will have
trouble in finding them. That is why I said that though it is right that
both be praised, those who are able to accomplish the harder task de-
serve much higher praise.
37 Aristotle is referring to the collection of 158 constitutions of Greek
and non-Greek states which was undertaken under his supervision. The
Constitution of Athens, discovered on papyrus in 1890 and now in the
British Museum, is the only one of these to have come down to us.
38 See Glossary, hexis.
 302 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

10 not have the requisite good judgment, unless they have it

spontaneously, though they may perhaps gain a deeper under-

standing of these matters.
Accordingly, since previous writers have left the subject of
legislation unexamined, it is perhaps best if we ourselves inves-
tigate it and the general problem of the constitution of a state,
15 in order to complete as best we can our philosophy of human
affairs. 39 First of all, then, let us try to review any discussion

of merit contributed by our predecessors on some particular

aspect; and then, on the basis of our collection of constitutions,
let us study what sort of thing preserves and what destroys

states, what preserves and destroys each particular kind of

constitution, and what the causes are that make some states
20 well administered and others not. Once we have studied this,
we shall perhaps also gain a more comprehensive view of
the best form of constitution, of the way in which each is
organized, and what laws and customs are current in each.
So let us begin our discussion.
39 This paragraph of the Nic. Eth. leads us back to the point
final
made at the opening of the work in I. 2: the study of ethics is a part of
politics. At the same time, this paragraph serves as a general introduction

to the Politics, even though the outline given here does not correspond to
the order of the Politics as it has come down to us.
 GLOSSARY OF TECHNICAL TERMS *

akon, akousion (axwv, aKovaiov) : See hekon.

akrates (d*paT>js) : A morallx weak man. See sophron.

anisos (avivo?) : See isos.

arche (apxn) : In its most concrete sense, beginning or starting

point. It designates that which stands at the head or at
the beginning, without which everything that follows
would not be what it is. Thus, in addition, the term may

denote any kind of source, beginning, or foundation: it

may describe public office, ruling, or government over

a people, the starting point of
an argument as well as of
foundation of a conviction, which
a foot race, the basis or
might then become the cause or initiating motive of an
action, or the irreducible first principle or fundamental
principle of realities apprehended by the intelligence.

arete (aperr/): Of fundamental importance in all Greek ethical

systems. This term, which is the noun corresponding to
the adjectives agathos, 'good,' aristos, 'best,' originally de-
noted the excellence of a brave or noble warrior; in
Homer, arete is almost a synonym for courage, and agathos
generally means 'brave' or 'of noble birth.' This military
and aristocratic sense of the word underlies the later
usage, although, within the structure of the polis, arete
came to signify 'civic virtue' and moral qualities other
than courage which distinguish the outstanding citizen.

The full history of the term would involve a history of

Greek moral ideas, but it is important to realize that
arete was eventually generalized to denote the functional
excellence of any person, animal, or thing. For example,
* The English terms used in the translation are set off in capital letters
in this Glossary.

303
304 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

the arete of a shoemaker which makes him

is that quality
produce good shoes; the quality which
in a race horse, it is

will make the horse run to victory; and the arete of a

musical instrument will make it respond well and cor-
rectly to the manipulations of the player. In other words,
arete is which enables its possessor to per-
that quality
form his own particular function well. It is against this
background that any Greek discussion of the arete of
man as man has to be seen: his aretai or 'virtues' are those
qualities which make him function well in relation to his
fellow men, that is, the qualities which make him play
his part in human society well. This means that the over-
tone of divine sanction of human morality, which is the
cornerstone of any Judaeo-Christian system of ethics, is
absent from the Greek. The value of arete is that it is an
end in itself, realized in living human society: there is no
promise of a Kingdom of Heaven as the reward for
virtuous conduct. The English translation 'virtue' seems
too narrow, though often inescapable, and we use, ac-

cordingly, excellence, goodness, virtue, or a combina-

tion of these, depending on the context.

dianoia (SiaVoia): Thought or understanding. It is used both

as the most general term to describe the mind, or a men-
tality, and in a narrower sense to describe the discursive
thinking which is involved in any act of reasoning or
understanding.

dikaiosyne (hiKaiowv-q) : The usual translation is justice.

Though Aristotle often uses dikaiosyne in the narrow
English sense of 'justice,' he remains ever conscious of the
wider connotations of the term: 'justice' is for him the
same as 'righteousness,' honesty. It is, in short, the virtue
which regulates all proper conduct within society, in the
relations of individuals with one another, and to some ex-
tent even the proper attitude of an individual toward
himself.
 GLOSSARY 305

dynamis (8vW/us): Fundamentally, power, force, strength,

ability. But Aristotle uses the word and its derivatives in
the very narrow sense of a power which is only inherent
in something without as yet manifesting itself. In order
to be made manifest, energeia, 'active exercise,' 'activity,'
'actuality,' is needed. For example, a man who knows the
art of building possesses the dynamis, capacity or 'po-
tentiality,' of building a house; but this capacity is only
something latent in him until he actively exercises it
(energeia) by actually building a House. Similarly, the
various parts of the soul, the seats, respectively, of nutri-
tion, perception, desire, locomotion, and thought, are
called dynameis, 'capacities,' in De Anima II. 3, 414a31,
because they exist only potentially until actively exercised.
Similarly, too, the technai or 'arts' are regarded as
dynameis as long as they are not yet translated into activi-
ties. For a full definition of dynamis and its relation to

energeia, see Metaphysics A. 12, 1019al5-32, and © (entire).

eidos (elSos): Translated as specific form or simply form, eidos

is that set of qualities which a scientific definition (logos)
analyzes into its constituent parts. Each thing is a com-
posite of matter (hyle) and form (eidos); e.g., a tree is
composed of wood, the matter, and "treeness," the spe-
cific form without which the matter would remain unin-

telligible. To analyze this form into its constituent parts

(in the case of the tree, having bark, leaves, certain definite
proportions, etc.) is to define the tree. Eidos is also the
kind or species into which a genos ('genus') is divided.

eironeia (cl/wvcia): Self-depreciation is perhaps the least in-

accurate rendering of eironeia, from which English 'irony'

is But the partly humorous, partly malicious
derived.
connotation of 'irony' is not inherent in the Greek term.
Eironeia is the exact opposite of boastfulness and involves
qualities such as understatement, pretending ignorance,
mock modesty and the like, but sometimes also has over-
tones of slyness.
306 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
eleutheriotes (IXivQepior-q*;): Frequently translated 'liberality,'
because, like the Latin liberalitas, it denotes the quality
of a free man as opposed to a slave. However, by the
fourth century B.C., the term was so restricted to money
matters that it seems advisable to use the more idiomatic
generosity in preference to the somewhat antiquated
term 'liberality.'

energeia (evepyeia): The noun energeia, activity, active ex-

ercise, does not occur in Greek literature before Aristotle.
The adjective energos, however, is found in the meaning
of 'active/ 'at work,' and refers, for example, to men or
material in active use, or to fields under active cultivation
asopposed to those lying fallow. Aristotle uses the noun
and its cognate verb form energein in two ways. (1) In its
widest sense, energeia denotes the state of 'being busy' or
'active,' regardless of whether the activity has a palpable
result (as it does, for example, in the case of a craftsman)
or whether it is self-contained (as, for example, the activ-
ity or active exercise of seeing, hearing, etc.). In this sense,
energeia has a wider range than either praxis, 'action,'
i.e., something to' another human being,
'acting' or 'doing
or poiesis, 'production,' which always results in a product
accessible to the senses. (2) In a narrower and more tech-
nical sense, energeia ('actuality') is the opposite of dynamis
('potentiality'). But even this technical sense is closely re-
lated to the ordinary use of energos mentioned above.
See dynamis.

enkrates (eyKparrf^): A morally strong man. See sophron.

epagoge (eTraywyr/): Induction. Cf. Topics I. 12, 105al3-16:

"Induction is the procedure which leads from particulars
to universals, e.g., if the best helmsman and the best
charioteer are those who have knowledge, it is true as a
general rule that in each particular field the best is he who
has knowledge."
 GLOSSARY 307

epieikes (oriei*?)*) : Describes a person whose actions are always

seemly, fair, right, equitable, decent, honest and the
like. Aristotle seems to use the word as a less precise and
less scientific way of saying good. In V. 10 the word and
its derivatives also carry the notion of 'equity,' i.e., of
those questions of justice and
and wrong,
injustice, right
that cannot be determined by formula, but only by some
sense of fair play.

episteme (hrurr^fir/): In the strict sense, disinterested, objective,

and scientific knowledge, thus also translated as science

or pure science, which differs from techne in that it is
knowledge for its own sake. Aristotle, however, occasion-
ally uses the term in a loose way for knowledge of any
kind, even if that knowledge is a means to an end other
than itself.

ergon (cpyov): The literal and most basic meaning is work,

both in a functional sense, e.g., the 'work' of a hammer
is to drive in nails, and in the concrete sense in which we
speak of the 'works' of a poet, sculptor, or craftsman. Ac-
cordingly, the term has to be translated differently in dif-
ferent contexts. In using product, we take that word in
a slightly wider sense than good English usage permits;
for Aristotle also calls, for example, health the ergon of
medicine. In other contexts, translations such as function,
result, or achievement are more appropriate.

eudaimon (evSai /uav): Happy, usually in the sense of a happiness

attained by man through his own efforts. Cf. makarios.

eupraxia (evTrpaila): One of the key concepts in Aristotle's

ethical theory. It is a noun formation of an adverb-verb
combination that means not only 'to act well,' good
action, but also 'to fare well,' 'to be successful,' 'to be
happy.' In other words, as the principal ingredient in
the good life, the noun is practically equivalent to 'happi-
ness.'
308 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
gnome {yvw^) The most common use describes a particular
:

'insight' orjudgment, especially as it is related to matters

affecting the conduct of one's life. But the term may de-
note both a particular judgment and a man's ability to
pass good judgments in general, i.e., what we might call
his good sense or 'sound understanding.' In addition, a
gnome is the equivalent of 'maxim,' 'adage.' In VI. 11
Aristotle relates gnome to several cognates, such as syn-
gnome, 'forgiveness,' 'pardon,' 'sympathetic understanding'
(literally 'judgment with' or 'on the side of another per-
son), and eugndmon, 'well-judging' in the sense of 'kindly,'
'well disposed.'

hekon, hekousion (Uuv, Uovaiov): An agent is described as

hekon when he has consented to perform the action he is
performing. This consent may range from mere passive
acquiescence to intentional and deliberate conduct. Con-
versely, an akon is a man who has not given his consent to
his action, regardless of whether he acts unconsciously,
inadvertently, or even against his own will. The action
performed in each case is the neuter hekousion, volun-
tary action, and akousion, involuntary action.

hetairos With derivative adjective hetairikos, trans-

(eVat/Do?) :

lated as bosom companion, but may also have the more

technical meaning of 'member of a hetaireia or club.' Such
clubs were political in character toward the end of the
fifth century B.C., but when a law, enacted shortly after the
restoration of the democracy in 403 B.C., prevented the

formation of such clubs for political purposes, they be-

came purely social in character.

hexis (f{«) : Characteristic, also trained ability, character-

istic condition, characteristic attitude. A noun related
to the verb echein, 'to have,' 'hold,' 'hold as a possession,' 'be
in a certain condition,' designating a firmly fixed posses-
sion of the mind, established by repeated and habitual
action. Once attained, it is ever present, at least in a po-
 GLOSSARY 309

tential form. The Latin interpreters of Greek philosophy

rendered the term by habitus, a word which well retains
the original relation with habere = echein. Hence 'habit'
has often been used as an English equivalent.

homonoia (6/tovoia) : Concord, primarily a political concept.

Literally, it designates the quality of 'being of the same
mind,' 'thinking in harmony.'

isos (laos): Isos and anisos are translated as equal and un-
equal, respectively. But they have a much wider sense
than their English equivalents, especially when referring
to a share assigned in a distribution; in this sense the
terms correspond to fair and unfair.

kalokagathia (KaXoKayaOia) For the Greeks, what the ideal of

:

the 'gentleman' is though the two terms

for the British,
are far from identical in meaning. The noun combines
the adjectives kalos and agathos, which express external
and internal excellence, respectively. In other words, the
term, translated as goodness and nobility, combines quali-
ties of good appearance, good bearing, good manners and

the like with moral qualities such as honesty, courage, self-

control, etc.

koinonia (xoown'a) : One of the key concepts of Aristotle's so-

cial and political thought, and one of his most profound
contributions to political philosophy is his definition of
the state as a form of koinonia in Book I of the Politics.
Koinonia any kind of group whose members are held
is

together by something they have 'in common' with each

other, i.e., by some kind of common bond. The size of
the group or the nature of the bond is immaterial: at its
largest, mankind might be described as a koinonia, held
together by the common bond of humanity; a state is a
koinonia in that it is held together by the common inter-
est of its citizens; similarly, a club, a village, or even as
small a unit as the family are spoken of as different kinds
of koinonia. Association perhaps comes closest to render-
310 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
ing the concept in English, but it fails to bring out the
bond prominent in the Greek. Community, society,
so
human relations, social organism, and partnership are
also used in this translation, depending on the context.

lei tourgia (\eirovpyia) : A public service, the costs of which are

defrayed by a private individual. Such leitourgiai in-
cluded services such as equipping a warship, training and
costuming a tragic or comic chorus, paying the expenses
of a sacred embassy sent by the state to consult an oracle,
etc.

logos (Aoyos) : Fundamental meaning is speech, statement, in

the sense that any speech or statement consists of a co-
herent and rational arrangement of words. From this de-
rives the wider application of the term to a rational prin-
ciple or reason underlying a great variety of things. In
this sense it may be translated rational account, explana-
tion, ARGUMENT, TREATISE, or DISCUSSION. LogOS is also
used in a normative sense, describing the human faculty
of reason which comprehends and formulates rational
principles and thus guides the conduct of a good and
reasonable man.

makarios (/aaicaptos) : Blessed or supremely happy, to describe

god-given happiness. Cf. eudaimon.

megaloprepeia Magnificence seems to be the

(/aeyaAoTrpeVcia) :

closest English equivalent. Literally, theterm means 'great-

ness befitting (an occasion).' This virtue involves the kind
of public spirit that was exhibited in Athens by the so-
called "liturgies" (see leitourgia), i.e., the financing of
dramatic productions, of the equipment of warships, etc.

megalopsychia (fieyaXoif/vxia) Literally means 'greatness of

:

soul'and was translated into Latin as magnanimitas, from

which English 'magnanimity' is derived. However, since
the connotations of megalopsychia are much wider than
 GLOSSARY 311

the modern meaning of 'magnanimity,' high-mindedness

seems better suited to rendering the pride and confident
self-respect inherent in the concept.

mousike (fiowructj) : Though the concept includes music, it ac-

tually encompasses all the artistic and intellectual activi-
ties over which the Muses preside. Accordingly, it ranges

from the writing and reciting of poetry to dancing, astron-

omy, etc.

pathos (7ra0os) : In its most rudimentary sense, pathos is the

opposite of praxis, 'action,' and denotes anything which
befalls a person or which he experiences. In most cases,
emotion comes closest to what Aristotle means; but when
the connotations of this are too narrow or misleading,
affect is used, in Spinoza's sense of affectus.

phantasia A noun derived from phaino, 'bring to

(<f>avr aaia):

light,' 'make appear,' and usually translated imagination.

Aristotle defines it in De Anima III. 3, 429al-2 as "a mo-
tion engendered by the exercise of sense perception." In
other words, the data assembled by sense perception create
a certain imagemind, which then forms the basis of
in the
memory, and thought. Inasmuch as sense percep-
action,
tion can be true or false, and its survival in the mind
more or less accurate, so phantasia may be more or less
accurate.

philetos (<f>i\rrr6<;): Usually rendered lovable. However, since

'love' is too strong for the noun philia ('friendship,' 'affec-
tion'), to which it is related, object worthy of affection
is preferred; 'lovable' is used whenever the former seems
awkward. Similarly, the verb philein is translated either
as 'to feel affection' or as 'to love,' depending on the con-
text.

philia (4>l\lo): Though usually translated friendship, the con-

notations of the Greek term are wider. Philia describes
312 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

(1) the human relation that is 'friendship,' (2) the char-

acteristic most conducive to the establishment of friend-
ship, i.e., friendliness, 'amiability,' or (3) sometimes even
the emotion underlying friendship, affection. In general,
philia is best summed up in the Greek proverb: koivcl to.

rdv </>tAtuv, "friends hold in common what they have." If.

designates the relationship between a person and any

other person(s) or being(s) which that person regards as
peculiarly hisown and to which he has a peculiar attach-
ment. This includes the bond holding the members of any
association together, regardless of whether the association
is the family, the state, a club, a business partnership, or
even the business relation between buyer and seller.

phronesis (^povrjms): Phronesis and sophia may both be trans-

lated as 'wisdom,' and are normally used as synonyms in
the dialogues of Plato. But Aristotle, in working toward
a more precise terminology, prefers to distinguish them.
His usage takes account of the fact that phronesis tends
to imply wisdom in action, and hence a moral intelligence,
practical wisdom, while sophia originally indicated tech-
nical competence and artistic skill (e.g., in poetry or handi-
craft), but came to be used for scientific competence and
theoretical wisdom (as in philosophia, the 'love of wis-
dom'). For a detailed discussion of these terms, see VI.
5 and 7.

politeia (TroAtrcta): An abstract noun, derived from polites,

'citizen,' itself derivative of polls, 'city-state.' It designates
the peculiar bond that unites citizen to citizen to form the
state, and, in fact, it is politeia, or the nature of this bond,
that gives the state Constitution or political
its identity.
system are perhaps the closest English approximations to
this concept. But in addition, Aristotle gives politeia, both
in Nic. Eth. VIII. 10 and in Politics III-VI, a normative
meaning to describe one of the three good forms of gov-
ernment to which a corrupt form (which is in this sense
not a politeia) corresponds. Although the normative sense
 GLOSSARY 313

can often be rendered by 'constitution,' constitutional

government shall occasionally have to be substituted for
it.

politike (ttoAitiktJ) : Implicit in the term is the etymological

connection with the polls, the 'city-state,' and with the
polites,'citizen,' who was a free member of the polis.

Accordingly, politike (techne) is the science of the city-

state and members, not merely in our narrow sense of
its

politics or political wisdom, but also in the sense that

the polis, according to Plato and Aristotle, is the only form
of civilized human existence. Thus the term polis also
covers our concept 'society' (for which the Greeks had no
independent word), and politike is the science of society
as well as the science of the state.

proairesis (irpoaipecn^): Choice, or moral choice, one of the

key terms in Aristotle's ethical system.The word is a com-
pound oipro- and hairesis, 'a taking,' 'a choosing,'
'before,'
and thus literally means 'a choosing ahead,' 'preference.'
Accordingly, the noun describes the act of making up
one's mind as a result of deliberation prior to undertaking
a particular course of action. See III. 2.

sophia ((To&a): See phronesis. Aristotle understands by sophia

the highest intellectual, and especially philosophical, ex-
cellence of which the human mind is capable, and which
is the result of studying nature for its own sake; in this
sense it is translated theoretical wisdom. In a more cur-
rent and general sense, it is simply equivalent to our
wisdom.

sophron (crampon/): A sophron is a person aware of his limita-

tions in a positive as well as a negative sense: he knows
what his abilities and nature do and do not permit him
to do. He is a self-controlled man in the sense that he
will never want do what he knows he cannot or should
to
not. Aristotle differentiates him from the enkrates, a man
who also knows what his abilities and nature permit and
314 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS
do not permit, but who, though feeling drawn to what
he cannot or should not do, has the moral fiber to resist
temptation and follow the voice of reason instead. (His
weak man,' succumbs to
opposite, the akrates, or 'morally
temptation.) These terms refer not only to different vir-
tues, but also to essentially different types of personality.
A sophron is well-balanced through and through; he gives
the impression of self-control without effort or strain. The
enkrates,on the other hand, has an intense and passionate
nature which he is, indeed, strong enough to control, but
nor without a struggle. He is 'morally strong' in his vic-
tory; the sophron, on the other hand, is not even tempted.

sophrosyne (aoxppoavvq): Literally translated, means 'soundness

of mind,' and describes the full knowledge of one's limita-
tions in a positive as well as negative sense: the sophron,
who possesses this virtue, knows what he is capable of as
well as what he is incapable of doing. 'Temperance,' which
is often used to translate this concept, is entirely negative,
and is nowadays almost exclusively applied to abstention
from alcoholic beverages, a connotation entirely unchar-
acteristic of the Greek word; 'moderation,' too, has largely
negative connotations and has, in addition, a flabbiness
that is alien to the Greek term. Though self-control is
also more negative than positive in modern usage, if the
word is taken more literally than it usually is, i.e., if 'con-
trol' is not merely taken as 'restraint' but also as 'mastery,'
it comes closer to sophrosyne than most alternative render-
ings.

spoudaios (<nrou&ubc): Literally, 'serious man,' whom Aristotle

frequently invokes for purposes similar to those which make
modern laws invoke the "reasonable man." However, Aris-
on the reasonableness of a man under
totle's stress is less

particular circumstances than on a person who k»*j a sense

of the importance of living his life well and of fulfilling
his function in society in accordance with the highest
standards. Of high moral standard, of great moral
 GLOSSARY 315

value, morally good and similar expressions are the most

appropriate English equivalents, depending upon the con-
text.

synesis (<nW«): Translated understanding, denoting primarily

the comprehension of what someone else has said; but it

also contains the notion of understanding practical prob-

lems.

techne (rly^-q): The and general know-how,

skill, art, or craft
the possession of which enables a person to produce a cer-
tain product. The term is used not only to describe, for
example, the kind of knowledge which a shoemaker needs
to produce shoes, but also to describe the art of a physician
which produces health, or the skill of a harpist which
produces music. Thus techne as an applied science con-
cerned with production is often contrasted with episteme,
which is pure scientific knowledge for its own sake. See
VI. 4.

teleios (tc'Acios): The from

adjective derived telos, 'end,' 'con-

clusion.' Its meaning corresponds most closely to Latin

perfectum: it means 'final' not only in the sense that an
end has been reached and completion attained, but also
in that this completion constitutes a perfection which (in
Aristotle's language) is the complete actuality of a thing
(entelecheia). To
render the term in its various contexts,
complete, final, and perfect are used.

theorem (Otmpdv): The literal meaning of this verb is 'to in-

spect' or 'to keep one's gaze fixed on.' Aristotle used it to

describe that activity of the mind most closely associated
with sophia ('theoretical wisdom'), in which the mind
contemplates or studies or observes the knowledge of
universal truths which it already possesses. See also theoria.

theoria (0ccopia): That kind of mental activity in which we en-

gage for its own sake, or rather for the attainment of
truth. It is a contemplation of nature in its widest sense,
316 NICOMACHEAN ETHICS

in which man, as a detached spectator, simply investigates

and studies things as they are without desiring to change
them. Thus, theoria is different, on the one hand, from
such practical sciences as ethics and politics, of which the
aim is action rather than contemplation, and, on the other
hand, from the productive sciences, which aim at the
creation of some kind of product. While most translations
conventionally render the noun by 'contemplation,' the
present translation has preferred theoretical knowledge
or study. However, it is difficult to avoid translating the
adjective theoretikos by 'contemplative' when it describes
the kind of life which is devoted to theoria.
 ISBN D-Q2-3flT53Q-b
90000

m
75
9 780023"895302'
wlflfflJBBHiyil