Three
The Goals of Ethical Inquiry
Introduction
Understanding Aristotle's conception of the goals of ethical inquiry may be important for a variety of reasons. It may, for example, be important simply for its own sake—for just seeing what ethical inquiry aims at, according to Aristotle, and how its goals may differ from the goals of other inquiries. But it may also be of importance in view of the connection that Aristotle thinks holds between the exactness possible, desirable, or necessary in a discipline and the nature of the goals of that discipline. Much of what he says about exactness/inexactness in ethics rests on his conception of the goals of the discipline. Certain types of exactness are, according to him, required by the goals of ethics, while certain levels of inexactness are permitted by the same goals. In addition, some of the difficulties Aristotle sees with trying to eliminate even the types of inexactness that have their sources in things other than the goals of ethics also stem in part from his conception of the goals of the discipline.
The relation that Aristotle thinks holds between the goals and the exactness/inexactness of a discipline will be discussed in several of the subsequent chapters. In this chapter, I wish to focus only on the question of the nature of the goals of ethical inquiry. In particular, I wish to examine the well-known Aristotelian contention that the goals of ethics are practical, and to explore the extent to which this view of the goals of the discipline excludes any theoretical interest in matters of conduct.
The well-known Aristotelian claim that ethics is practical has at times been understood as implying that ethics aims only at action or practice and therefore has no cognitive interests. I argue that, contrary to this view, ethics may be practical, but this does not imply that it has no cognitive
interests. Despite some statements Aristotle makes in which he appears to deny that in ethical inquiry we aim at knowledge and to assert that we aim instead at action or practice, ethics to a certain extent aims at knowledge. I draw the distinction in this connection between the ultimate and the immediate or proper goals of a discipline and show that in the case of ethics, while the former kind of goals may be practical, the latter kind are cognitive. I further argue that the transitivity principle of desires, pursuits, or goals that Plato uses to eliminate subordinate desires, pursuits, or goals is not used by Aristotle in the same way. Therefore, even if ethics is subordinate to politics and the goals of the latter are practical or even if its own proper goals that are cognitive are subordinate to practical goals, the cognitive goals of ethics are not thus eliminated.
The question, however, still remains as to the character of the cognitive goals of ethics or the kind of knowledge it aims at achieving. There are those who equate ethical knowledge with practical wisdom and understand the latter very narrowly to be a type of deliberation about particular practical affairs. I argue that Aristotle's own inquiry and his conception of ethical inquiry in general cannot be equated with this narrow conception of practical knowledge. If ethical inquiry is to be equated with any form of practical knowledge it has to be a form of practical knowledge that does justice to Aristotle's own inquiry and to his conception of ethical inquiry in general. To do that our conception of practical knowledge has to be quite wide; it has to resemble the knowledge we seek in the typical disciplines that aim at giving accounts of a certain domain or subject matter.
Finally, I explore Aristotle's views on the differences between theoretical and practical knowledge. I suggest that Aristotle bases the distinction between theoretical and nontheoretical disciplines on a variety of factors. Although the most prominent of these factors is the nature of the goals of a discipline, there are also such factors as the degree of demonstrative rigor of a discipline, its level of generality or abstractness, its being an explanatory, discipline, and so forth. Thus, a discipline may, indeed, have as its ultimate goals practice, but it may not necessarily differ from theoretical disciplines with respect to the rest of these factors. Ethics itself, like other practical disciplines, may thus be quite similar to theoretical disciplines, and it may be said to have a theoretical component.
The Goals of Ethical Inquiry
There is considerable diversity of opinion in the Aristotelian scholarly tradition about the way Aristotle conceives of the goals of ethical inquiry. The opinions form a kind of a spectrum, one end of which is occupied by the view that ethics is practical in a quite narrow sense of this term and the other end by the view that ethical inquiry aims at a theoretical un-
derstanding of the phenomena of conduct. Views of the former kind tend to minimize or eliminate the cognitive aspect from ethical inquiry, while those of the latter kind tend to minimize or eliminate the practical aspect.
Consider first the kind of view that stresses the practical nature of ethics. The sources of this view are some of Aristotle's own remarks where he appears either to deny that ethical inquiry is aiming at knowledge or to assert that it is aiming instead at action or practice. This interpretation of Aristotle's conception of the goals of ethics can be found in the works of some of the ancient commentators, and it is, therefore, their views I wish to consider first. In particular, I want to briefly touch upon an analogy they saw between the practical and the productive disciplines or arts, which they used to determine the goals of ethics and to analyze the relation of exactness in a discipline to its subject matter and its goals. As shall be seen in later chapters, the use of this analogy enabled the ancient commentators to see quite easily that some types of inexactness Aristotle associates with ethics are primarily features of the subject matter of the discipline and only secondarily of its accounts. The analogy will, thus, be of some importance for understanding the various levels of exactness Aristotle attributes to ethics and the relations he thinks obtain among such levels.
The ancient commentators found the basis for the analogy between productive and practical disciplines or arts[1] in what Aristotle says in the N.E.:
3.1 | Our treatment [of ethical and political matters] will be adequate, if it achieves that amount of precision that belongs to its subject matter. The same exactness must not be sought in all accounts, as it is not in all products of art. (1094b13) |
The most detailed discussion of these remarks is to be found in Eustratius's commentary on the N.E. , although the rest of the ancient commentators give quite similar interpretations. Eustratius argues that by focusing on a productive art we can see more clearly the relation among subject matter, goal, and exactness, since the elements of the relation in the case of such an art become easily apparent to us through the senses.[2] The example he chooses is that of the art whose task, goal, or end is simply to imitate, or to produce imitations of, the human form. He divides such an art into painting or drawing and sculpture, and he further subdivides the latter into wax molding and the various kinds of carving—for example, wood carving or stone carving. Now, Eustratius claims, the exactness we aim at and which is possible in painting is greater than the one we aim at in the case of wax molding, since the materials used in the former are better suited for the purposes of the art than those used in the latter. But the exactness possible in the case of wax molding is greater than that possible in the various types of carving, since the material of the former
is more pliable than the material used by the latter. Thus, the following claims in Eustratius's example of the productive arts can be identified: The goal of the above kind of productive arts is imitation of the human form—that is, creating products that imitate the human form—and not knowledge or explanation of how to imitate the human form or of the human form itself; exactness depends on the materials an art uses (paint, wax, wood, stone, and so forth) and on the goals it has, and it will therefore vary from one art to the other as the materials and goals vary.
Now, if we were to assume, as the ancients did, that there is an analogy between the productive arts and ethics, we would conclude, as they did, the following about ethics: The goal of ethics is practice—that is, doing some thing or action, and not knowledge or explanation of practice; exactness in ethics depends on its subject matter (materials) and its goals. I shall leave the questions of the nature of exactness, the relation it bears to goals and materials, and even that of the usefulness of the analogy for understanding these matters aside for the moment. The point I wish to stress is that the way the ancients understood the analogy between the productive arts and ethics eliminates the cognitive component in both of these types of arts or disciplines, that is, in both productive and practical ones.
The problem with this way of looking at the goals of some disciplines is not that it is too narrow or restrictive, that it leaves out some other things that ought to be included among the productive or practical goals of these disciplines. The problem, for instance, with the claim that the goal of the productive arts Eustratius mentions is the imitation of the human form is not that it excludes other things that can be imitated. Of course, many other things can be imitated, and can therefore be a part of the goals of these arts, although we can understand why the ancient commentators focused on the human form. The problem lies rather in the fact that this way of looking at the productive arts fails to recognize any nonproductive goal that may be associated with them; it overlooks any cognitive goals or aspects these arts or disciplines may have. It looks, for example, at the discipline of medicine as being simply whatever produces health.
By analogy, the difficulty with identifying the goal of ethical inquiry with action does not lie with the fact that such an identification excludes several other things that can reasonably be included, along with action, among its practical goals. It is reasonable, for instance, to argue that action has no more of a claim to being the goal of ethics than states of character (virtues), states of affairs, kinds of wants or desires, motives, purposes, interests, types of human association, and so forth. The wish to enlarge the list of things comprising the practical goals of ethics is perhaps understandable, although it is also understandable why priority is given to
action. The latter has often been thought to be essentially connected to ethics, as health is thought to be connected to medicine. However, even if we were to grant that all the other practical things mentioned above, that is, states of affairs, virtues, motives, and so forth, are to be included among the goals of ethics, still the difficulty would not be resolved. Again, the difficulty lies with the fact that by equating the goals of ethics with some practical end or other, we blur the identity of the discipline of ethics as we normally understand it. The identity or nature of the discipline is confused with some end or ends it might serve. I shall return to this matter and discuss the reasons why, in my judgment, the goals of ethics cannot be completely equated with practice. First, however, I wish to examine some of the reasons that have led some students of Aristotle's thought to completely identify ethics with practice.
The tendency to look at ethics as something that lacks a cognitive component appears to have a basis in some remarks Aristotle himself makes throughout his treatises on conduct. Here are some of them:
3.2 | The end of this study [i.e., politics] is not knowledge [  |
3.3 | As then our present study [   |
3.4 | Or perhaps, as we say, the end of the studies about things to be done is not to study [or contemplate, theorize about—   |
3.5 | For you aim is not to know [  |
In addition, there are the well-known remarks where Aristotle argues that ethics is subordinate to politics and where he distinguishes among theoretical, practical, and productive disciplines in terms of their goals:
3.6 | It would seem [the highest good of man] to belong [as an object of study] to the most authoritative science and that which is most truly the master art. And politics appears to be of this nature; for it is this that ordains which of the sciences should be studied in a state. . .. Now since politics uses the rest of the sciences, and since, again, it legislates as to what we are to do and what we are to abstain from, the end of this science must include those of the others, so that this end must be the good of man. (N.E.1094b) |
3.7 | For the end of theoretical knowledge is truth, while that of practical knowledge is action. (Met. 993b20) |
3.8 | But although this does happen in the case of the theoretical sciences, inasmuch as astronomy and natural science and geometry have no other end except to get to know and to contemplate the nature of the things that are the subjects of the sciences . . . yet the end of the productive sciences [  |
The above remarks may easily lead one to the conclusion that in the case of ethics, as well as other practical or productive disciplines, there is no room for the pursuit of knowledge. This is so especially with remarks 3.2-3.5, where Aristotle appears at times to deny that we aim at knowledge at all in ethics and politics and to assert emphatically that our aim is action or practice. Thus, Allan has recently stated that "practical reason differs from theoretical reason by its end; its aim is action , not knowledge of the truth"[3] And Aristotle does not help matters by subordinating ethics to politics and thus claiming that ultimately the goal of the former is the goal of the latter, which according to 3.2 and 3.8 is action or the establishing of "ordered government, or something of that sort."
The move of obliterating, so to speak, the cognitive function of some disciplines perhaps derives some support from a principle Aristotle enunciates in the opening chapter of the N.E. :
3.9 | Now in cases where several such arts are subordinate to some single faculty—as bridle making and the other arts concerned with the equipment of horses fall under the art of riding, and this and every military action under strategy, in the same way other arts fall under yet others—in all of these the ends of the master arts are to be preferred to all the subordinate ends; for it is for the sake of the former that the latter are pursued. (1094a10) |
Where arts, disciplines, or pursuits are subordinate to some master art or discipline or pursuit, that is, where they form an architectonic structure, the end of the subordinate ones is really the end of the master one. This may be called the transitivity principle, which states that if A is desired for the sake of (or has as its end) B, and B is desired for the sake of (or has as its goal) C, then A is desired for the sake of (or has as its goal) C. The transitivity principle seems to imply that the subordinate goals, that is, B, drop out of the picture altogether. When we apply the principle to the case of ethics it seems to imply that all we are left with is practice or action. For, if ethics is, as Aristotle claims, subordinate to politics and the goal of the latter is action (3.2, 3.8), then the goal of ethics is action. But
when we apply the transitivity principle in this same way to politics itself, or to any other nontheoretical discipline, we also obtain similar results: whatever other goals politics might have drop out of the picture, since they are subordinate to some practical end. Only in the case of the theoretical disciplines, where the ultimate end is knowledge itself, will the application of the transitivity principle yield a cognitive end for a discipline.
But upon reflection, we see that this cannot be the way to apply the transitivity principle, and that Aristotle did not apply it in this way, although Plato clearly did. To apply the principle in this way is to eliminate all the goals or ends of the subordinate arts; it is to eliminate what are clearly the immediate or proper goals of the arts which need to be distinguished from any other ends these arts may serve. Consider, for instance, Aristotle's own example of the art of bridle making (3.9). The immediate or proper end of this art is bridle making, although the activity itself may have, because it is subordinate to the military arts, as its ultimate goal military victory. But even if its ultimate goal is that of the master art, its own peculiar end cannot be eliminated. To assume otherwise, to apply the transitivity principle in the way we did above, is to suppose not only that desires or goals are transitive but also that the subordinate desire, pursuit, or goal is canceled out whenever there exists a higher desire, pursuit, or goal. Plato clearly made such a move: "Then isn't it just the same in every case? If everyone does something for the sake of something, he doesn't want the thing he does, but the thing for the sake of which he does it" (Gorgias 467D).[4] But Plato's move is clearly problematic, for it eliminates the desires or goals that must be there in order for the transitivity principle to hold or even in order for the principle to be stated.
And this, of course, is no accident. What Aristotle intends to say by the transitivity principle is that the art of bridle making has as its proper end the making of bridles, although the reason we have such an art with such an end is because we have another end, that is, military victory. But the art of bridle making is defined by its own proper end, as is any other art which may be subordinate to some master art. Thus, shipbuilding is defined by its own proper end, and so is strategy, medicine, economic management, and so forth.[5] What bridle making does, then—what activity it is—is determined by its own proper goal and not by that of the master art it ultimately might serve. The identity and essential nature of an art is fixed by its own proper goals and not by whatever else it serves. The goals of the subordinate and master arts can be altogether different—bridles are not military victories—and the activities constituting the two can also be altogether different—making bridles is not fighting or winning a battle. It is also clear that, although we may continue to pursue the master art and its goals, we may cease to pursue the subordinate activity and its goals. We may, for instance, continue to pursue military victory but not bridle
making, either because we have no need of horses for the purpose of winning a battle or because we can control horses without the use of bridles—for example, by remote control or by training them to follow verbal commands. Therefore, not every means of controlling cavalry horses is part of the art of bridle making. The latter has a nature that is constituted by its own peculiar activities and proper goal.
But what does this tell us about ethics, politics, or medicine and their goals? It tells us that, even though these disciplines may be subordinate to some master discipline, and consequently their ultimate end may be that of a master discipline, they have their own end and activity in terms of which their nature is defined. If, for example, economics is, as Aristotle says, subordinate to politics, it is nonetheless the case that it has its own end and activity which define its nature. The same is true with ethics, which Aristotle takes to be subordinate to politics.
Let us leave aside, then, this matter of the subordination of one discipline to another and examine instead some of these disciplines by themselves. Consider, for instance, medicine, a discipline that Aristotle often compares to ethics. There is no doubt that Aristotle takes the ultimate goals of medicine to be health, that is, the attainment, restoration, preservation, and so forth, of health, rather than the contemplation of it (3.7, N.E. 1094a). Aiming at health in part constitutes the nature or essence of the discipline—it defines in part what medicine is (Top . 143a5). But this practical goal is not all there is to medicine; it is not sufficient for defining medicine. Not everything that aims at or attains health is medicine. If, for instance, gymnastics also aims at or produces health, it is not necessarily to be identified with medicine. And if someone restores health accidentally or by luck, or heals by some superhuman power, he is not necessarily doing so through medicine.[6]
The reason why not everything that produces, restores, or maintains health is to be identified with medicine is that, according to Aristotle, medicine is a discipline; it is an inquiry or investigation that aims at or obtains a certain body of knowledge. Like other disciplines, it has its own domain and principles.[7] Its genus, then, to use Aristotle's language, is knowledge, since medicine is a species of a cognitive activity. Thus Aristotle includes medicine among the disciplines (sciences,
thought-partaking, science deals with causes and principles, more or less precisely." There is no doubt that when Aristotle speaks of a discipline that is concerned with the cause of health and of good condition he has in mind medicine. Finally, he refers to medicine as an inquiry, discipline, or science (
Medicine, then, like the other cognitive disciplines, aims in part at knowledge, at understanding or explaining a certain domain, that is, the causes of health and of good condition. We may identify, then, in its case the goal that fixes the genus to which medicine belongs, that tells us what kind of thing it is—that is, that it is a kind of knowledge or a cognitive discipline. And we may designate the cognitive goals of medicine as its immediate or proper goals and thus distinguish them from its ultimate practical goals—that is, the production, restoration, or maintenance of health. Medicine, then, aims at and attains its ultimate goals through a cognitive activity or discipline, through knowledge of its own special domain.
The above is, of course, true of all practical and productive disciplines, for they all belong to the genus discipline or inquiry; they all are cognitive activities. Their proper or immediate goals are therefore cognitive, while their ultimate ones are, according to Aristotle, practical or productive. This is what Aristotle intends to say by designating some disciplines as theoretical, others as practical, and still others as productive. Not that practical and productive disciplines do not aim at knowledge or are non-cognitive; rather, they have goals that go beyond the cognitive ones and which are nonetheless attained through the cognitive ones. This is made clear in what Aristotle says in 3.8, when he states that "the end of productive sciences is something different from science and knowledge, for example the end of medicine is health. . . . [It is] different from mere knowledge of the science." Thus, Aristotle does not doubt that the proper end of medicine is knowledge—he takes it for granted that it is. What he wishes to make certain is that we do not mistake it for the ultimate end, that we recognize that the latter (the ultimate end) is different from science or knowledge (the proper end). Only in the case of theoretical disciplines, Aristotle argues, is the proper or immediate end identical with the ultimate end. What Aristotle intends to say in 3.7, when he insists that the end of theoretical knowledge is truth while that of practical knowledge is action, is that the ultimate end of the former is truth while that of the latter is action. He is not identifying the proper end of practical disciplines with action, but only the ultimate one.
It is important to recognize, then, that while a discipline may be practical (or productive) in virtue of the nature of its ultimate goals, this does not rule out that its immediate goals are cognitive. Similarly, a discipline is theoretical in virtue of its ultimate goals, but this does not rule out the
possibility that such a theoretical discipline (e.g., arithmetic) has practical uses (see below). Yet arithmetic, although it has practical uses, differs from a practical discipline—its ultimate goals, the ends for which it is pursued, are presumably purely cognitive. And although Aristotle and others classify disciplines on the basis of their ultimate goals—for example, theoretical, practical, productive—one must not overlook their immediate or proper goals, which may be different from the ultimate ones.
Now ethics is, according to Aristotle, a practical discipline and, therefore, as is the case with all productive and practical disciplines, its ultimate goal is something different from knowledge or science. As in the case of politics, which, according to 3.8, aims at something "different from mere knowledge"—that is, it aims at the realization of "ordered government or something of the sort"—ethics aims at something beyond knowledge. Indeed, when we examine closely 3.2-3.5, we see that in all these remarks Aristotle's intention is to underline his contention that ethics has a goal that is different from and goes beyond knowledge, and not to deny that its proper goal is a cognitive one.
Consider, to begin with, what he says in 3.2. While he insists that the (ultimate) end of politics is action and not knowledge, he also assumes that politics is a study, that it is an inquiry (
Indeed, a careful examination of what Aristotle says shows that what Allan asserts in the remark quoted above is wrong when said in the way it is said there. Practical reason or intellect does aim at truth, "For truth is the function of every [kind] of intellect" (N.E. 1139a30) and "Hence the function of both parts of the intellect [i.e., practical and theoretical] is truth" (1139b11). Of course, Aristotle does not mean in these remarks
to deny that the ultimate goal of practical thought is practice or action. He distinguishes theoretical thought from it by saying that theoretical thought is not concerned with action or production (1139a28), clearly implying that practical thought is concerned with or ultimately aims at action or production. We must not, however, overlook the fact that Aristotle takes practical thought to be aiming at the truth, that its proper goal is cognitive.
If what has been said above is correct, it is clear that ethics cannot just be whatever results in certain actions or produces certain states of character. It cannot, for example, just be a skill, knack, or good fortune that results in the correct action or the proper state of character. Ethics, according to Aristotle, is practical knowledge or a type of discipline that alms at achieving some practical ends through its own cognitive activities. These kinds of activities are necessary elements of its nature; they in part define what ethics is.
To recognize that Aristotle takes ethics to be an inquiry or investigation, despite what he at times appears to be saying, is no doubt quite important, for to do so is to identify correctly the kind of thing he assumes ethics to be; it is to identify the genus to which he assigns ethics and related disciplines. Yet this does not tell us everything about ethics. It does not tell us what kind of knowledge ethical inquiry attains—whether, that is, it differs in its character or structure from the knowledge that theoretical inquiry attains. It also does not answer the question of why there cannot be theoretical knowledge about matters of conduct—why we cannot, for example, have knowledge for the sake of knowledge about matters of conduct—or, if theoretical knowledge differs in its structure or character from practical and productive knowledge, why there cannot be knowledge about matters of conduct that has the epistemological nature of theoretical knowledge. These are the questions I wish to consider next, and I shall do so by addressing first the question concerning the relation between ethical inquiry and practical wisdom.
Ethical Inquiry and Practical Wisdom
I have argued above that Aristotle takes ethics to be an inquiry or investigation whose proper end is cognitive. We may further characterize Aristotle's view in the following way: Ethics is a study of a certain subject matter or domain, that is, that of matters of conduct. Such a characterization may seem to be too superficial or empty of content to be sufficient for distinguishing ethics from other inquiries or investigations. But at this point I wish to characterize Aristotle's view in the most neutral way. Even the claim that ethics is an inquiry or investigation is a controversial one in Aristotelian scholarship, for it obviously implies or assumes that Aristotle
takes ethics to resemble to some extent—namely, to the extent that it has a subject matter that it studies and seeks to understand or explain—those inquiries or investigations that he often views as being well-defined disciplines or sciences.
There are those in the Aristotelian scholarship tradition who are willing to accept that ethics has some cognitive objectives, that it aims at some knowledge, or that it aims at its ultimate practical ends through knowledge, but are unwilling to concede that the knowledge ethics seeks resembles at all the knowledge we seek in the well-defined disciplines or that ethics itself resembles any of these well-defined disciplines. This view has its basis in Aristotle's discussion of the intellectual virtues in Book VI of N.E. and, in particular, in his account of practical wisdom or prudence (
Thus, William E R. Hardie has recently insisted that, although Aristotle at times makes reference to ethical or political theory in his work, we should not be misled "into thinking that Aristotle thought of the Ethics and the Politics , or indeed the Poetics , as exercises of the 'theoretical' intellect. . . . For Aristotle the Ethics itself, being a political treatise (1094b11), is an exercise of the practical intellect. . . . His inquiry is directed to finding out how happiness can be achieved. Analogously the Poetics is a manual on playwriting."[9] Hardie goes on to add, "It is not, of course, to be assumed that what Aristotle, or any other thinker, says he is doing is necessarily an accurate or adequate account of what he achieves." He thus leaves room for meeting the obvious objection that Aristotle's own inquiry in the ethical treatises and Politics is more of a theoretical investigation than his own characterization of it would seem to imply.
Yet, as Hardie seems to recognize, there are problems with the practical interpretation of ethical inquiry that go beyond the discrepancy, if there is one, between Aristotle's own inquiries and his own characterization of them. Consider first the problem with appealing to the distinction between theoretical and practical intellect in order to elucidate the nature of ethical inquiry. Aristotle, of course, speaks at times of these two kinds of intellect, but the disagreements among scholars as to what these supposedly distinct intellects do are notorious. Hardie suggests that in general the practical intellect is concerned with the finding or determining of means, and in the case of ethics it is concerned with "finding out how happiness can be
achieved." But is there a productive intellect that is concerned with the means of production, and is it different from practical intellect? Again, if I am seeking the geometrical means of bisecting the angle, which intellect am I using: the theoretical, practical, or productive one? It is also not clear that we succeed in elucidating the nature of ethics by insisting that it is a manual for practice in the way presumably "the Poetics is a manual for playwriting." Geometry too is a manual for drawing circles, bisecting angles, determining areas of figures, and so forth, and arithmetic is a manual for adding, subtracting, multiplying, and so forth. In a sense, any discipline can be a manual.
The problem seems to me to be this: If we assume that Aristotle identifies ethical inquiry with practical wisdom (or reason, or prudence,
Now there is evidence from Aristotle's texts that seems to support the narrow view of practical wisdom. As Allan remarks, "The fact is that he [Aristotle] makes some statements which, to a superficial view, imply that practical reason—or what comes to the same thing, phronesis —deliberates about means and does nothing more ."[10] And Allan refers to Aristotle's remarks at N.E. 1139a21, 1142b31, and 1152b1 as the passages that, to a superficial view, imply the narrow view of practical reason. There are, of course, more passages than the ones Allan cites suggesting the narrow view of practical wisdom. Among them we would include Aristotle's account of deliberation in Book III, where practical reason is viewed primarily as deliberating or calculating about means. And his discussion of practical reasoning in Book VI.i., where he equates it with deliberation, contrasts it to scientific reason, and argues that it is calculative in nature: "These two faculties may be designated the scientific and the calculative faculty respectively; since calculation [
It is not surprising, then, that scholars have at times accepted the narrow
view of practical wisdom. Whenever they have also assumed that ethical inquiry is to be identified with practical wisdom, they have concluded that ethical inquiry is quite different from ordinary disciplines. This seems to be the case with the accounts J. Donald Monan gives of practical wisdom and ethical inquiry.[12] John Burnet also sides with the narrow view of practical wisdom but he does not identify altogether ethical inquiry with practical wisdom.[13] In this he was following the Aristotelian scholar Julius Walter of Jena, who was the first to introduce in recent times the narrow view of practical wisdom, but who at the same time refused to equate it with ethical inquiry.
According to Allan, in much of the Aristotelian scholarship of the previous century, and in particular in the works of Gustav Teichmüller, Friedrich Trendelenburg, and Eduard Zeller, the dominant view of practical wisdom was the wide one.[14] These scholars assigned to practical wisdom or reason a role much wider than calculation or deliberation about means. They assigned to it the role of grasping or understanding the basic principles and the rest of the propositions or judgments of ethics. Thus practical wisdom or reason in their view was not much different from theoretical reason. Since they also equated ethical inquiry with practical wisdom, ethical inquiry itself was thought to be quite similar to all the other disciplines that investigate into the nature of a particular domain—it was thought to be not very different from the theoretical disciplines. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, however, Walter argued that the scope of practical wisdom in Aristotle is far more restricted than the scholars mentioned above take it to be, and he thus introduced the narrow view. The sphere of practical wisdom, according to Walter, is deliberation, the discovering of means to ends that have already been established. Since Aristotle's own inquiry is primarily about the nature of ends, since it is almost theoretical, he concluded that ethical inquiry cannot be equated with practical wisdom or reason.[15] Consequently, according to Walter, ethical inquiry does not differ essentially from other disciplines. This time, however, the conclusion was reached not by conceiving practical wisdom as something similar to theoretical reason and then equating it to ethical inquiry, but by narrowing the scope of practical wisdom and dissociating it from ethical inquiry.
Walter's view, according to Allan, was very influential. It affected either directly or indirectly much of the subsequent scholarship on Aristotle's ethics with regard to the issues of the nature of practical wisdom and ethical inquiry. It influenced Zeller directly and to such an extent that in the third edition of his history of Greek philosophy he abandoned his earlier account of practical wisdom in terms of the wide view and accepted Walter's view. Zeller's views, in turn, had an impact on many of the important commentaries on Aristotle's ethics in the English language, especially that of Burnet.
But Walter's view itself was destined to meet the fate awaiting every interpretation of a classical text—namely, being questioned, criticized, and almost abandoned by Aristotelian scholars in recent years. Criticisms of Walter's views, although rather moderate ones, are to be found in the work of Allan himself and in Rene A. Gauthier and Jean Y. Jolif's commentary on the N.E .[16] Several of the most recent discussions of these issues can be looked upon as attempts to correct what is perceived to be a mistaken account of practical wisdom given by Walter and accepted by many other scholars. They are attempts to enlarge Walter's conception of practical wisdom and, therefore, to reinstate in a way the wide view that was held by the other nineteenth-century scholars mentioned above.
Thus, David Wiggins has argued that deliberation and practical reason are not only concerned with instrumental means, that their scope is wider than the narrow view makes it out to be.[17] John Cooper accepts the interpretation that deliberation goes beyond instrumental means, but thinks it does not determine by itself the highest or ultimate end (happiness) Aristotle is concerned with in his own ethical inquiry. This is done, Cooper claims, by practical wisdom, which is more than deliberation since it includes dialectical reasoning and some kind of intellectual intuition by which the ultimate end (or ends) is (are) grasped.[18] Thus, Cooper's view is in one respect similar to Walter's. Cooper argues that there is some theoretical component to ethical inquiry that cannot be captured by the instrumental conception of deliberation, the component that consists of dialectical reasoning and the grasping of some propositions by intellectual intuition. Terence Irwin has gone even further by making dialectical reasoning a part of deliberation.[19] Although this move appears to deny that there is a theoretical component to ethical inquiry, it does so by making deliberation or practical wisdom as wide, and in a sense as theoretical, as the nineteenth-century scholars made it out to be.
My aim, however, is not to investigate the nature of deliberation or practical wisdom, if indeed they turn out to be different. My concern is rather with Aristotle's conception of ethical inquiry. I shall, therefore, restrict myself to giving some arguments in support of the view that ethical inquiry cannot be identified with the narrow view of deliberation or practical wisdom. I will thus be partly in agreement with Walter's position: If deliberation or practical wisdom is interpreted narrowly, it cannot be equated with either Aristotle's own ethical investigation or with ethical inquiry in general. This is, in a sense, acknowledged by those who insist upon the wide interpretation of deliberation or practical wisdom.
Does Aristotle identify his own inquiry or ethical inquiry in general with deliberation or practical wisdom? It is interesting to point out that the term for practical wisdom (
Aristotle's own investigation or ethical inquiry. Aristotle uses the term to refer to wisdom in general in order to argue against Plato that there is one Form of goodness: "But of honour, wisdom [
The term for practical wisdom occurs most frequently in Book VI, a Book devoted to a discussion of the intellectual virtues. Indeed, in its first occurrence in that Book the term is used to refer to one of the intellectual virtues (1139b15). The closest Aristotle comes to identifying practical wisdom with ethical inquiry is when he equates at least some component of politics with practical wisdom.
3.10 | Politics [or Political Science,   |
Now, while it is clear that in this passage Aristotle is willing to identify politics with practical wisdom, it is also clear that he makes every effort to distinguish practical wisdom understood in the narrow sense from what is, strictly speaking, political science. He insists that there are two kinds of practical wisdom, each of which he assigns to one of the two parts of politics that are often referred to by the same name. The kind that is concerned with particulars, actions, and deliberation he assigns to political
practice, something he equates with any practice in the domain of crafts. The other kind of practical wisdom must be then what is not concerned with actions, particulars, or deliberations—this is the kind he assigns to the controlling part of politics, legislative science, or political science or inquiry.[21]
But why does Aristotle refer to both kinds as practical wisdom? I think in this context he uses
One may, then, be willing to accept that Aristotle identifies political inquiry with practical wisdom, provided one understands that the practical wisdom required for such an identification is not that of the narrow view—it is not deliberation in the context of action or about particulars. Indeed, if one follows Aristotle's remarks quoted above, one will be justified in assuming that the required practical wisdom is not deliberation at all.[23] This is what Aristotle's contrast between the two kinds of practical wisdom and the two components of politics he associates with them seems to imply.
The same can be said about ethics. The practical wisdom associated with practice is that of the narrow kind—that concerned with particulars, action, and deliberation. If we insist that ethical inquiry itself is a kind of practical wisdom, then it must be that which Aristotle associates with political inquiry-it cannot be that which is concerned with particulars, action, and deliberation. In a sense, Walter's observations about the character of Aristotle's own inquiry and about the way he conceives ethical inquiry in general is basically correct. Neither Aristotle's own inquiry nor what he says about it can be made to fit into the narrow conception of practical wisdom.
For we see that what Aristotle does in the N.E. is not an ordinary kind of deliberation. It is not, as Hardie says, simply the "finding out how happiness can be achieved," if it is meant by this that Aristotle is deliberating about the means to happiness. His activity does not fit the kind of reasoning that he at times characterizes as practical and which must meet certain conditions—for example, its premises include one that is universal, one that is particular, and one that asserts a desire for some end—and which issues in an action. Although Aristotle extends somewhat the scope of practical wisdom by admitting that it deals not only with the particular but also with the universal (1141b15), even this extended notion of practical wisdom will not be sufficient for adequately characterizing his own activity.[24] The universal Aristotle has in mind in this context seems to fall
short of the kind of universality or generality found in his own investigation. The universal Aristotle has in mind in the context of practical wisdom is most probably that which he associates with the rather modest level of generality of some normative principles. Although his examples come from medicine—for example, light meat is wholesome, chicken is wholesome (1141b20), heavy water is unwholesome (1142a22)—we can imagine what general ethical principles would be like—A son never ought to disown his father (1163b20), One ought to pay back a debt (1165a3), and so forth. If this is the level of universality or generality Aristotle associates with practical wisdom, then it is clear that it cannot match that which characterizes most of his own objectives or accounts in his ethical treatises.
There is no doubt that Aristotle's concerns in his own ethical treatises are with the most universal or general aspects of matters of conduct. Consider, for example, the sorts of things that Aristotle focuses upon in the N.E. Beginning with a brief explanation of the teleological structure of pursuit or action, he elaborates on some formal properties of the good and distinguishes among types of goods—perfect, more perfect, most perfect, self-sufficient, and so forth. These are clearly concerns with highly general or abstract matters, and so is his investigation about the relation among being an end (goal), being good, and happiness. The aim is, of course, to explicate the nature of the human good or happiness—this is as specific or particular as Aristotle gets—and not the good or happiness of some individual or some particular group. His own account of the human good and happiness is, as is well known, also given by relying on the very general and abstract notion of function. Equally general and abstract are Aristotle's accounts of the virtues, which are his focus in most of the N.E.
Now it is true, as shall be seen, that Aristotle often considers his own accounts to be incomplete or lacking in detail and that he frequently insists that, since ethics is practical and practice and deliberation deal with particulars, our ethical accounts must also reach the particulars. Even if the diagnosis of his own accounts as lacking in detail is correct and the degree of specificity he requires for ethical accounts is justifiable, they would not imply that Aristotle's focus is not the universal or abstract aspects of conduct. By admitting that his own accounts are not about particulars or that they are lacking in detail, Aristotle correctly recognizes that what he has been dealing with all along are the universal, general, or abstract elements of conduct. His point is, of course, that dealing with only such elements is not sufficient for the purposes of ethics. According to him, one has to reach down to the particulars.
But suppose we were to do so; suppose we were to attain the specificity Aristotle thinks is necessary for the practical purposes of ethics. Even then
we would not necessarily have made all of ethics into something that is concerned only with the kind of thing we are, according to Aristotle, concerned with in the context of action—that is, particulars. There would still be the component of ethics that deals with those aspects of matters of conduct that constitute the focus of Aristotle's own treatise—that is, the general or abstract aspects. Similarly, reaching the level of specificity Aristotle requires in ethics does not necessarily make ethics an activity like deliberation of the narrow kind. What he has in mind in the contexts where he insists upon making our accounts more specific is not that we deliberate about particulars with regard to some action or other, but rather that we proceed with our investigation in order to attain more detailed or specific accounts. The account of virtue in general will not be sufficient, he argues; we must give an account of each one of the virtues, and perhaps we should reach even greater specificity than that. But we can do the same thing in geometry or biology: we can give accounts of the kinds of triangle or viviparous , and we also can give accounts of the species isosceles or dog , and perhaps even of more narrow kinds. But the accounts of these latter sorts of things are not necessarily deliberations, at least they are no more deliberations than the former. And I see no point in making a deliberation out of everything.[25]
There is no doubt that there are problems with what Aristotle says with regard to attaining a level of specificity that reaches the particular or individual. As I shall argue below, he does at times have some such level of exactness in mind. But, first, he does not say that we reach such a level of exactness by deliberating in the narrow sense of this term.[26] Second, he thinks that a level of specificity that reaches the narrow particulars or individuals cannot be attained by ethical inquiry, and therefore whether it is to be arrived at by deliberation or by some other way does not seem to affect the nature of ethical investigation.
The above is true even though we may be willing to accept what Aristotle says in 3.1 and 3.2 about the goals of ethical or political inquiry. According to what he says there, the goals of politics is action (3.1), and the reason why we pursue ethical investigation is in order to become good (3.2). It is quite possible that, while the reason for pursuing ethical (political) inquiry is action or becoming good—this involves deliberation or practical wisdom in the narrow sense—ethical (political) inquiry itself is not identical with or even part of practical wisdom in that sense. Applied mechanics may be pursued for the sake of building structures, but it does not follow from this that the inquiry of applied mechanics itself is identical with that for the sake of which it is ultimately pursued.
It is not, however, only what Aristotle does in his own ethical treatises that is different from practical wisdom in the narrow sense. What he says about his own ethical inquiry, or the way he characterizes it, shows that
he also thought of it, or of any ethical inquiry, as being different from this kind of practical wisdom. What Aristotle does and what he says he does need not, as Hardie observes, agree. But they need not disagree either. In this case they agree: Not only what he does but also what he says about his own activities in the N.E. do not fit the narrow conception of practical wisdom.
On several occasions prior to Book VI (i.e., prior to where practical wisdom becomes the focus of Aristotle's concerns), Aristotle refers to, describes, or characterizes his own activities. Invariably on these occasions Aristotle does so by using terms that signify "inquiry," "investigation," or "discipline/science"—that is, by terms he often uses to characterize typical inquiries or investigations that may have little to do with practical wisdom. Thus, Aristotle refers to his own activity as a
The comparison of ethics to medicine is an important one. Aristotle often sees the two disciplines as being similar in many respects: Their respective subject matters exhibit the same kinds of inexactness; they are both practical disciplines; and they share the same epistemological character.[28] What we say, then, with regard to Aristotle's conception of the one discipline must also fit the other. If medicine is not an inquiry that resembles the typical disciplines, then neither is ethics, and vice versa. Conversely, if medicine is an inquiry that resembles the typical disciplines, so is ethics, and vice versa. It is not surprising, then, that those who tend to look at ethics as something that falls far short of the typical disciplines, as something that is to be equated with practical wisdom in the narrow sense, tend also to look at medicine along the same lines—that is, as something that is concerned primarily with practice or with knowledge only to the extent that is required for dealing with the particulars of practice. But this is not supported by the texts. The problem with what Aristotle says about ethics and medicine is not, I shall argue here, that they are considered not to be like the other disciplines, but rather that they are thought to be continuous with practice.
There are, indeed, times when Aristotle stresses the practical aspect of medicine and emphasizes the need to know the particulars or the superiority of knowledge of particulars. And at times he appears to exclude
from ethics any component that goes beyond practice or knowledge of the particulars within a practical context.
3.11 | In fact it does not appear that the physician studies even health in general, but that of the human being—or rather of some individual human being, for it is individuals that he has to cure. (1097a10) |
3.12 | These [matters of conduct] come under no art [or science,  |
However, as we saw above, Aristotle takes medicine to be a kind of discipline or science (
3.13 | No art [or discipline,  |
3.14 | For the doctor does not say what is healthy in the case of the individual eye, but either of every eye, or determining some sort [of eye]. (Post. Anal. 97b28) |
Of course, what is true of medicine is true of every discipline. Every art or discipline deals with the universal (see Met . 1003a14, 1059b24, 1060b19; Post. Anal . 87b38, 88b30). As 3.12 states, "No art [or discipline] has the particular in view."
Obviously, there is a difficulty here. It cannot be the case both that medicine is concerned only with the individual and there is no art or science dealing with matters of health (3.11, 3.12), and that there is a discipline or science dealing with the general or universal aspects of medical phenomena (3.13, 3.14). There are at least two ways out of this difficulty. One way is to argue that when Aristotle characterizes medicine as a discipline or science he uses the term
Yet despite the fact that either of these suggestions would go a long way toward resolving the apparent difficulty mentioned above, I find little textual support for either one. Consider, to begin with, the first suggestion. Indeed, Aristotle uses the term
For example, when Aristotle includes medicine among the sciences at Post. Anal . 79a15 and 88b13, the context is one where the term
In addition, if it were true that Aristotle uses the term
What about the suggestion that Aristotle differentiates completely between a kind of theoretical activity that he characterizes as the science of medicine and a practical activity that remains solely at the level of practice? Perhaps there are good reasons for differentiating between such activities, and it is quite possible that some of the problems Aristotle raises about ethics and medicine that presumably stem from their practical character could be avoided if we were to distinguish sharply between theory and practice in ethical and medical affairs. Aristotle does not, however, think of medicine as consisting of two totally different and distinct kinds of activities. There are perhaps good reasons for not doing so.
For example, when he insists that the subject matter of medicine is, like that of ethics and politics, characterized by inexactness, he is not speaking about one of these activities and not the other. The medicine he has in mind is something that encompasses both the scientific or explanatory
accounts he associates with any other discipline as well as the concern with practice—that is, restoring, producing, or maintaining health in an individual. This is what in part it means for him to be a practical discipline: It is to be a discipline that reaches the level of practice, and as a consequence never really to become disconnected from the particular or the knowledge that is appropriate to the particular. The discipline, then, that Aristotle calls "medicine" includes both activities distinguished above. It is hard to see how we could completely divorce practice in medicine from all knowledge that goes beyond the particular case that confronts us in a particular context. Perhaps it is easier to see how we could have theoretical knowledge without any connection to practice. However, for Aristotle the reason we pursue knowledge of medical matters is for the sake of practice.
The way Aristotle conceives of disciplines like medicine, ethics, or politics is, of course, not without its problems; for looking at a discipline by focusing primarily on its ultimate goals, which may happen to be noncognitive, can easily lead to difficulties. As Hardie has observed, "He [Aristotle] does not distinguish clearly, when he says that the end is action, between the nature of the inquiry (methodology) and our motives for pursuing it (psychology)."[30] Although I remain somewhat skeptical as to whether Aristotle does not distinguish between methodology and psychology, it is clear that his emphasis on the noncognitive ends of some disciplines leads him often to view such disciplines completely from the perspective of these kinds of ends, and thus to underestimate or overlook their cognitive objectives. He argues, for example, that since ethics is required to reach a certain level of detail due to the fact that it is a practical discipline, then every account of it is inexact if it fails to reach that level. Thus, he tends at times to evaluate the exactness of a discipline solely from the perspective of its noncognitive goals and to pronounce the whole discipline to be exact/inexact without considering its cognitive functions. As shall be seen later, many of the things he says about the pervasiveness of inexactness in ethics follow from his way of looking at a discipline primarily through its ultimate goals.
Ethics is for Aristotle, as is medicine, a discipline. It has a cognitive component that is, according to him, subordinate to its practical ends. This cognitive component, I have argued, cannot be identified with the narrow conception of practical wisdom if we are to do justice to Aristotle's conception of ethical inquiry or to his activities in his own ethical treatises. But, as I have also said above, the question whether ethical inquiry is to be identified with practical wisdom depends on what we take the nature of practical wisdom to be. If we take the latter to be the same as philosophical inquiry, then clearly ethical inquiry and practical wisdom could turn out to be the same after all.
Theoretical and Practical Knowledge
Let us, then, assume with Aristotle that ethics is a practical discipline whose ultimate goal is practice but whose immediate or proper goal is knowledge. The question naturally arises as to the kind of knowledge we should, can, or in fact do attain in ethical investigation or in any other investigation with goals similar to those of ethics. Does the knowledge acquired in such disciplines differ from knowledge obtained in the theoretical disciplines and, if so, how? Finding answers to these questions may be of some use in our efforts to understand why Aristotle most often thinks that the only kind of knowledge we have about matters of conduct is practical.
In many instances, scholars, undoubtedly influenced by Aristotle's frequent remarks on the existence of three kinds of disciplines (theoretical, practical, and productive), assume that there are differences among these three kinds and that the differences are obvious. But when they attempt to specify the differences they simply point to the differences in the goals of these three types of disciplines: Practical and productive ones aim ultimately at something that is different from knowledge—that is, practice and production—while theoretical ones aim presumably at no other purpose than knowledge itself.
The ultimate goals of a discipline, then, determine whether the discipline belongs to the theoretical, practical, or productive kind. They provide us with a criterion for placing each discipline in one of Aristotle's three classes. But are these classes mutually exclusive? Can a discipline belong to two or more of these classes? It seems that Aristotle takes these classes to be mutually exclusive, and that, for him, no discipline can belong to more than one class. Yet whether a discipline belongs to one of these three classes seems to depend solely on whether there is more than one kind of goal in relation to the subject matter which that discipline studies. Whether, for example, there could be theoretical knowledge in relation to medical matters would seem to depend on whether we could aim at knowledge for its own sake about such matters. Could we aim at knowledge for its own sake in relation to matters of conduct? I shall return to this question shortly.
Even if we were to agree with Aristotle that in some cases inquiry or knowledge is pursued for its own sake, whereas in others it is pursued for the sake of something different from knowledge, it is not clear what we should conclude from this supposed difference in the goals of our inquiry; for the familiar distinction Aristotle draws among three types of knowledge that differ with respect to their goals does not by itself specify a difference in the nature of the disciplines that belong to these types. It only specifies a difference in their goals or the uses to which they are put. But differences in the goals may or may not imply differences in the nature or structure
of the knowledge a discipline attains. Conversely, it is not evident that identity of goals implies epistemological identity. Is all theoretical knowledge epistemologically identical?[31] Is all practical knowledge of the same type? Are applied mechanics and applied geometry epistemologically identical and are both of them to be taken as being the same types of knowledge as ethics and politics are?
So pointing only to the different uses of knowledge does not tell us what the basic or essential differences between types of knowledge are or even whether there are any epistemologically significant differences between theoretical and nontheoretical knowledge. One naturally wants to know how an item of theoretical knowledge differs epistemologically from one that is a part of practical knowledge or why some thing that is an item of theoretical knowledge can't have a use beyond itself.[32] And if no such difference in the essential character of the two types of knowledge can be found, then the distinction between practical and theoretical knowledge, which rests only on use, does not tell us much about the knowledge we aspire to in ethical investigation. For all we know, ethical knowledge may be practical but rigorous in the way geometry and optics are (both of which are demonstrative, according to Aristotle), or practical in much the same way rhetoric or other less rigorous types of knowledge are.
It may, nonetheless, be the case that the supposed difference among the uses or goals of practical, productive, and theoretical knowledge itself rests on something more fundamental. It may, for example, rest on differences in the respective objects or faculties of these types of knowledge, and it is perhaps factors such as these that in turn imply some epistemological differences: objects or faculties affect the nature or structure of knowledge itself.
Indeed, we find in the Aristotelian writings a number of remarks pointing to some differences among disciplines or types of disciplines. Thus on at least two different occasions theoretical disciplines are distinguished from practical and productive ones not on the basis of their ultimate goals—knowledge, action, and production, respectively—but on a supposed difference in the objects they study. The nontheoretical ones deal, according to Aristotle, with things which are such that the principle of movement or change is not in them but in the producer or agent. Theoretical knowledge "deals with the things that have in themselves a principle of movement."[33] The attempt to differentiate types of disciplines on the basis of an internal or external source of movement in their objects has its difficulties. To begin with, as Aristotle himself clearly sees, there is mathematics which is a theoretical discipline dealing with what has no movement or is at rest.[34] This is also the problem with the highest theoretical knowledge which, according to Aristotle, studies what can exist apart and is immovable.[35] Another question arises about the discipline that studies the
nature of the moral agent or agent in action. According to Aristotle's distinction of the sources of movement, the discipline must be a theoretical one, since to be an agent is to have a source of movement from within.[36] If one takes the discipline that studies the nature of the agent to be ethics, then ethics must be, on the basis of this distinction at least, a theoretical discipline.
Setting aside the above kinds of problems, it is clear that there are additional ones which are more pertinent to our present purposes. Suppose we were to assume that the distinction in terms of the sources of movement is a meaningful one—that is, that there are two classes of objects which are to be distinguished in terms of whether their source of motion is internal or external and that indeed there are two types of disciplines (theoretical and nontheoretical) that correspond to these two classes. What does this tell us about the epistemological nature of these two types of disciplines? It is not clear that this distinction, taken in the simplest possible way to merely signify a difference in the source of motion, has any important epistemological consequences or that it has consequences that are sufficient for distinguishing between theoretical and nontheoretical disciplines in terms of their epistemological nature. Thus, the distinction in terms of the kind of motion/change in the subject matter, like the distinction in terms of the goals of a discipline, fails to yield an epistemological difference among disciplines.
Yet there may be a way of construing Aristotle's distinction about internal and external sources of movement that makes it epistemologically relevant. It is probably some such construal Aristotle has in mind in connecting the source of movement (change) to the theoretical/nontheoretical division among disciplines. We may, for example, interpret Aristotle's distinction as asserting that in one class of objects, or in the case of the subject matter of some disciplines, the movement (change) is inherent in the nature of the objects (subject matter). It is part of, or necessarily connected to, their essential nature, whereas in the case of the others it is not. Thus in N.E. :
3.15 | All art is concerned with coming into being, i.e., with pursuing or studying how something may come into being which is capable of either being or not being, and whose origin is in the maker and not in the thing made; for art is concerned neither with things that are, or come into being, by necessity, nor with things that do so in accordance with nature (since these have their origin in themselves). . .. Both [art and lack of art] are concerned with what can be otherwise. (1140a15) |
But ethics itself, and presumably all practical disciplines, are concerned with things that can be otherwise: "The class of things that can be otherwise includes both things made and actions done" (1140a; see also 1140b3).
If indeed there are differences of the kind Aristotle speaks between the things with which theoretical and nontheoretical disciplines deal, then perhaps there is reason to think that there are also epistemological differences between theoretical and nontheoretical disciplines. At least, Aristotle's belief that there are such differences in the subject matter of theoretical and nontheoretical disciplines would have provided him with good reasons for concluding that there are epistemological differences between theoretical and nontheoretical disciplines. The assumption that the nature of knowledge in some sense corresponds to the nature of its object would have given him sufficient reason for moving from differences in the subject matter to epistemological differences in the disciplines dealing with such subject matter.
The idea that differences in the nature of the subject matter correspond to differences in types of cognition and even to differences in the cognitive faculties goes at least as far back as Plato. As is well known, Plato in the Republic attempts to differentiate the various faculties of the soul and types of cognition in terms of the nature of the objects they apprehend. Aristotle utilizes this idea and often bases his claims about supposed differences in the nature of knowledge that is attainable in the various disciplines on differences in the nature of the subject matter they deal with. At times he totally embraces the Platonic idea and goes as far as to assert that differences in the nature of the objects of cognition correspond to differences in the parts (or faculties) of the soul that cognize them.[37]
3.16 | And let it be assumed that there are two rational faculties, one whereby we contemplate those things whose first principles cannot be otherwise, and one whereby we contemplate those things which can be otherwise: since, on the assumption that knowledge is based on a likeness or affinity of some sort between subject and object, the parts of the soul adopted to the cognition of objects that are of different kinds must themselves differ in kind. (1139a5) |
Let us, however, set aside for the moment this Platonic-Aristotelian idea of the putative correspondence between parts of the soul (or cognitive faculties) and the nature of the objects they cognize. Let us focus instead on Plato's and Aristotle's claim that the nature of knowledge which is possible in a domain corresponds in some way to the nature of the subject matter of this domain. This claim can be used to partly show why there must be some epistemological differences among the various disciplines; for Aristotle thinks that the subject matter of practical (and indeed of all nontheoretical) disciplines exhibits some characteristics that have important epistemological consequences. He thinks that the subject matter of ethics and similar disciplines is characterized by or suffers from certain deficiencies; it suffers from various kinds of inexactness, which affects the
knowledge that is possible in such nontheoretical domains. It may very well be true then that there are important epistemological differences between practical and theoretical knowledge and not merely differences in their goals. Whether there are in fact such differences depends on what these characteristics of the subject matter Aristotle refers to as inexactness are and whether they do indeed affect the nature of knowledge.
Unfortunately, the supposed inexactness of the subject matter of practical disciplines may not be sufficient for the purpose of distinguishing them with respect to their epistemological character from the theoretical disciplines. Contrary to what many scholars have supposed, these features of inexactness that Aristotle attributes to the subject matter of ethics, medicine, and the rest of the practical disciplines he also attributes to the subject matter of some theoretical disciplines.[38] As shall be seen, he takes the whole of nature to be characterized by these kinds of inexactness. Thus, whatever epistemological consequences these kinds of inexactness have, if they have any, will also affect the disciplines that study nature. These disciplines are, according to Aristotle, theoretical ones.[39]
We cannot, therefore, assume that the supposed inexactness of the subject matter of practical disciplines and its epistemological consequences are sufficient for setting apart these disciplines from the theoretical ones. At best they may set apart only theoretical ones whose subject matter is not inexact from all else—that is, from the theoretical ones whose subject matter is inexact and the practical and productive ones. Or perhaps the practical and productive ones are inexact in a much more pervasive way than are those theoretical ones that deal with nature. It may be the case that the practical and productive disciplines are even less exact than the theoretical ones dealing with nature or inexact subject matter. Yet even if this were true we would still be left only with differences of degree, rather than of kind, among the various types of disciplines.
This last point is of considerable importance, for it questions the widespread assumption that the inexactness Aristotle attributes to the subject matter of ethics and other practical disciplines has such drastic epistemological consequences that it makes them altogether different from the theoretical ones. It questions the assumption that the method of the disciplines whose subject matter is inexact is different from that of the theoretical disciplines on account of the inexactness of the subject matter of the former kind of disciplines. The method of the practical disciplines may very well be different, but it need not be so because of the inexactness of their subject matter. I shall argue later that this assumption is not obvious at all. Although the inexactness of the subject matter poses some problems, Aristotle does not conclude that the method of the disciplines with inexact subject matter is different in kind from that of the disciplines whose subject matter is exact. Hence, he does not infer from the inexactness of the
subject matter of the practical disciplines that their method is different in kind from that of the theoretical disciplines.
But if theoretical and practical knowledge cannot be adequately differentiated on the basis of the character of their goals, the source of movement (change) in their subject matter, or the exactness/inexactness of their subject matter, then how is it done? I suspect there are no major epistemological differences between the types of knowledge Aristotle identifies, and that may be the reason why he does not offer any detailed explanation of this matter. Yet there are some differences, and they seem to stem from the goals of the various kinds of knowledge Aristotle identifies. Thus, the claim we encounter almost throughout the Aristotelian scholarship tradition-that differences in goals imply epistemological differences—is to some extent correct. However, the way the claim is to be understood and the reasons justifying it have never been made clear, or even identified.
Thus, although pointing only to the differences in the goals of practical and theoretical disciplines may not by itself help in identifying in what way the character of practical knowledge differs from that of theoretical, the implications the goals have may do so. For, as I shall argue at some length in subsequent chapters, Aristotle thinks that the goals of practical disciplines impose certain conditions on the knowledge that is possible, desirable, or required in such disciplines. They require, for instance, that we reach a level of specificity or detail that may be far greater than that which the theoretical disciplines require. One difference, then, between practical and theoretical disciplines is this: While the latter kind of disciplines can be solely constituted by general or abstract accounts, those of the former kind must, in virtue of their goals, also include particular, specific, or detailed accounts. At least one difference, then, would be in their generality/abstractness and particularity/specificity. Whether the introduction of particular/specific accounts in a discipline has any additional epistemological consequences is a much more controversial matter that I will discuss later (chap. 5).
However, the above may not be the only way the goals of a discipline affect the knowledge the discipline aims at or obtains. Aristotle argues that the goals also fix or determine the degree of rigor that is proper to a discipline; the rigor which is proper for disciplines whose goals are practical is less than that which is proper for those whose goals are purely theoretical.
The above considerations that connect the required level of specificity and the desirable rigor in a discipline to its goals provide, when spelled out in detail, some explanation as to how and why the goals of a discipline affect its epistemological character. In the case at hand, they would provide some explanation of how and why practical disciplines in general, and
ethics in particular, may differ epistemologically from theoretical disciplines.
Still elsewhere Aristotle takes theoretical knowledge to be the sort of knowledge that aims at or provides knowledge of causes or of the "why" (Met . A i, ii). The theoretical study of any field or the philosophical approach in any domain is that which seeks to understand the causes (E.E. 1216b35).
We may summarize, then, Aristotle's views on the differences between practical and theoretical knowledge as follows: (a) Practical knowledge aims ultimately at something beyond knowledge, that is, practice, while theoretical knowledge aims ultimately at knowledge; (b) Practical knowledge may use to a certain extent the method theoretical knowledge uses, but it may be deficient in its demonstrative rigor on account of the inexactness of its subject matter; (c) Practical knowledge may be more specific than theoretical knowledge on account of its goals; and (d) Practical knowledge may not aim at knowing the causes.
Keeping in mind the variety of features Aristotle uses for the purpose of differentiating between practical and theoretical knowledge, we want to ask whether it is possible to have theoretical knowledge about matters of conduct. As noted earlier, Plato thinks there is no difficulty in having such knowledge. Indeed, most often he sees knowledge of matters of conduct as occupying the highest place among the theoretical disciplines. Among those who have shared Plato's conviction, Benedict de Spinoza is perhaps the best known. His Ethics is the best example we have of a moral geometry. More recently, John Rawls has expressed sympathy with the Platonic ideal and has assumed that it can be realized: "One should note also that the acceptance of these principles [of justice] is not conjectured on a psychological law of probability. Ideally anyway, I should like to show that their acknowledgement is the only choice consistent with the full description of the original position. The argument aims eventually to be strictly deductive. . . . We should strive for a moral geometry with all the rigor which this name connotes."[40]
What about Aristotle? As seen earlier, he takes the interest or desire for knowledge of matters of conduct to be subordinate to our interest or desire for practice. What does this subordination relation imply? It at least implies that we desire or have an interest in knowledge of matters of conduct for the sake of practice. Aristotle holds in addition that the relation of subordination is asymmetrical: If A is desired for the sake of B, then B is not desired for the sake of A.[41] Assuming asymmetry, if it is true that the ultimate goal of ethics is practice, if knowledge of matters of conduct is pursued for the sake of practice, then practice is not pursued for the sake of knowledge. Aristotle also holds that the subordination relation is not irreflexive: if A is desired for the sake of B, then it is not the case that
A is not desired for the sake of A. The best known example Aristotle gives of this is that of the subordination relation virtue has to happiness: virtue is desired or pursued for the sake of happiness but it is also desired or pursued for the sake of itself. We cannot conclude, then, that because we desire or pursue A for the sake of B we cannot desire or pursue A for the sake of itself. We cannot, that is, conclude that because we desire or pursue knowledge of matters of conduct for the sake of practice we cannot pursue knowledge about such subject matters for its own sake, or that there is no theoretical knowledge about matters of conduct. Thus, if what lies behind the difference between practical and theoretical knowledge is that the desire to know about matters of conduct is subordinate to practice, that is, our condition (a), then it does not follow from this subordination relation that there is no desire for knowledge for its own sake about matters of conduct.
Aristotle, however, seems most often to think that one does not, and perhaps cannot, aim at knowledge for its own sake about matters of conduct and, therefore, that there is no theoretical knowledge, in the sense we are presently discussing, about the domain that consists of matters of conduct. This seems to be the intent of the remarks quoted earlier, especially 3.3-3.5 and 3.8—that is, to deny that one aims at or desires knowledge for its own sake about matters of conduct. The supposition is that unless one had an interest in action or in doing certain things, one would not be interested in knowing about them. If one did not desire, aim at, or need to be just or act justly, one would not desire, aim at, or need to know what justice is; as presumably one would not desire, aim at, or need to know what health is if one did not desire, aim at, or need to be healthy (3.5). For Aristotle, there is not, and presumably cannot be, a desire for knowledge about such matters that is independent of practical goals.
The example of medicine is, of course, the example used most often in this connection. It seems obvious to almost everyone that our interest in knowing about health is solely practical; it exists only insofar as we have an interest in being healthy. This completely practical conception of medical knowledge goes at least as far back as the Hippocratic tradition, and it has been preserved in quite unequivocal language by the author of the treatise Tradition in Medicine : "In the first place, the science of medicine would never have been discovered nor, indeed, sought for, were there no need of it. If sick men fared just as well eating and drinking and living exactly as healthy men do, and no better on some different regimen, there would be little need for the science."[42]
The assumption that in the case of medicine and ethics our interest in knowledge can only be subordinate to our interest in some practical goal or other is, however, not obvious. For suppose that we all were to become healthy. Why are we certain that we would then have no interest in matters of health, that we would not be interested in knowing what health is or
what produces it, maintains it, and so forth? But perhaps it could be said that such cognitive interests would still be subordinate to practical ones—we would be interested to know these things because we would be interested in maintaining health or in some such practical objective. But suppose not only that we were healthy, but that in addition we had reasons to believe that we would remain healthy, that there would be, as far as we knew, no practical use for medical knowledge. Would we, then, cease to have any interest in knowing how the human body works, how its parts function, how they sustain themselves, how they attain their excellence or optimal state, and so forth?
What is puzzling about the view that denies there is or can be any cognitive interest in matters of medicine or conduct that goes beyond some practical objectives is this: Those who accept the distinction between theoretical and practical knowledge on the basis of the nature of their respective goals (and this includes Aristotle himself) are willing to admit that we can have a theoretical interest in relation to just about anything, except to things such as the nature of the virtues, of pleasure, of the relation between virtue and pleasure, of health, and other such things. Why such things fall outside the domain of theoretical interests is indeed puzzling, if one considers that they are as much a part of our world as anything is. The puzzling character of the Aristotelian position that denies the possibility or the value of a theoretical interest in matters of conduct was most forcefully described by Harold H. Joachim:
And why, finally, should a speculative inquiry into the phenomena of conduct be rejected as worthless? Might we not say to Aristotle: "Is not the study of the forms of moral consciousness, the conception of the moral ideal (in short, the growth and development of the moral structure of civilized society), at least as valuable—and at least as much entitled to a place in your subdivision of theoretical science—as the study, for example, of the fabric of the lower cosmos, or of the 'meteorological' phenomena, or of the species of animal and their properties?"[43]
I suspect what lies behind the view that denies any theoretical interest in medicine or ethics is the undeniably great importance that the practical goals of these disciplines have for us—that is, the importance of attaining, maintaining, or restoring health (medicine) or of doing the correct thing or realizing the correct dispositions (ethics). These practical objectives are of such importance that they overshadow or almost eclipse any possible theoretical interest in matters of medicine or of conduct. But it may be a mistake to conclude from the importance that the practical objectives of medicine or ethics have that there cannot be any theoretical interests in the case of these disciplines. For the fact that we pursue A for the sake of B and B is of great importance does not imply that we cannot pursue
A for the sake of A. According to Aristotle, we aim at virtue for the sake of happiness and the latter is of the greatest importance, but it does not follow from this that virtue cannot be pursued for its own sake. We should not, therefore, conclude that we cannot have theoretical interests in relation to the subject matter of a discipline just because the practical goals of that discipline are of great importance.
Plato and, at times, Socrates do not draw such a conclusion. Although they assign a great importance to practice, they do not thereby eliminate the theoretical interest in knowing about matters of conduct. Indeed, as seen earlier, they often claim that our theoretical interest in matters of conduct is, or at least should be, as great or greater than the interest we have or should have in any other domain, and this is so precisely because of the importance matters of conduct have for us.
Aristotle, however, is often critical of the emphasis Socrates and Plato place upon our theoretical interest in matters of conduct. Yet even Aristotle does not ultimately deny that there is such an interest. His criticisms of the Socratic and Platonic positions are not so much criticisms of the impossibility of a theoretical interest about matters of conduct as they are of the usefulness or efficacy of such interest or knowledge. According to Aristotle, to emphasize theoretical interest or knowledge about the ethical domain to the extent that Socrates and Plato do may lead to a failure to understand how we act correctly or become good. To have such a theoretical interest or knowledge about the ethical domain, he argues, is neither sufficient nor necessary for acting correctly or having the proper state of character (N.E. 1105b15, 1179b10; E.E. 1216b20).
Aristotle at times recognizes the theoretical interest and knowledge that Socrates and Plato so often emphasize. Thus, in the Protrept ., a work that perhaps reflects the Platonic influence more than others, Aristotle speaks of the theoretical knowledge of the excellences of the soul (B73). In the E.E. he again asserts the importance of theoretical investigation in matters of conduct: "And in every investigation, proofs stated in philosophical form are different from those that are non-philosophical; hence we must not think that theoretical study of such a sort as to make manifest not only the nature of a thing but also its cause is superfluous even for the student of politics, since that is the philosophic procedure in every field" (1216b35). In Polit . he distinguishes between the theoretical and non-theoretical investigation into the nature or justification of slavery (1254a20). Later in Polit . he warns the reader about the dangers of a narrow, practical view: "But it is necessary to say at a little greater length what each of these constitutions is; for the question involves certain difficulties, and it is the special mark of one who investigates any subject philosophically, and not solely with regard to its practical aspect, that he does not overlook or omit any point, but brings to light the truth about
each" (1279b10). Finally, Aristotle urges that we should study most subjects not simply for their practical uses, for "to seek utility everywhere is entirely unsuited to men that are great-souled and free" (1338b).
It is clear that Aristotle does not altogether deny that we can have a theoretical interest in matters of conduct and that theoretical inquiry about such matters may be of some importance. Yet there is no doubt, as I noted earlier, that he takes ethics to be a practical discipline, and he takes the cognitive goals of ethics to be subordinate to its practical ones. How, then, could we have a theoretical interest within a discipline that is practical, an interest to know for the sake of knowledge within a discipline where the interest to know is subordinate to practice? There is a problem here, for the subordination of the cognitive interests in matters of conduct to practical ones implies, according to Aristotle, two things: (1) the extent to which knowledge is pursued about matters of conduct is determined by practical objectives; (2) the practical goals of the discipline define in part the nature of the discipline—they define ethics as a discipline pursued for the sake of practice. I shall discuss both of these things at some length later (chap. 9). I only wish to point out here how difficult it is for Aristotle to allot a place for theoretical interests within an inquiry like ethics (or medicine) which he construes as having practical goals and whose identity is almost determined by these goals. Perhaps any theoretical interests about matters of conduct cannot even be part of the discipline of ethics as he most often understands it.
One might argue, however, that what is of importance in this context is not whether there is, or could be, a theoretical interest in relation to matters of conduct, but whether the knowledge we obtain about matters of conduct, regardless of its goals, meets certain conditions that theoretical knowledge also meets; for, although we should not minimize the importance Aristotle attaches to the nature of the goals of a discipline for determining whether it is theoretical, we often make such determinations on the basis of whether a discipline meets the sort of conditions we mentioned earlier—that is, whether it uses the method or methods theoretical disciplines use to a sufficient degree and achieves an adequate level of demonstrative rigor, whether it deals with its subject matter at a certain level of abstractness or generality, or whether it deals with the basic elements or causes of a certain domain. These are, of course, Aristotle's own conditions in terms of which he at times distinguishes theoretical from non-theoretical disciplines; they are conditions (b), (c), and (d) identified above.
Does ethical inquiry, then, meet some or all of these conditions? It is easier to answer this question with respect to some of these conditions than with respect to others. Indeed, our answer with respect to some of these conditions will not emerge until the end of this study. Take, for instance, condition (b). Does the method(s) of ethical inquiry resemble
sufficiently the method(s) of theoretical disciplines? There is a need to distinguish here between two things this question may be asking—namely, whether the method(s) of Aristotle's own inquiry, in contrast to the method(s) of ethical inquiry in general, resemble those of theoretical disciplines. There is, as is well known, much dispute as to what method(s) Aristotle uses in his own inquiry. If the method of theoretical disciplines is, according to Aristotle, demonstrative and if the method of his own inquiry is, as some scholars insist, also demonstrative, then his own investigation may be to some extent theoretical. The extent or degree to which his inquiry is or can be demonstrative partly depends on the epistemological implications of the kinds of inexactness Aristotle identifies in ethics. These matters will be focal points of discussion in subsequent chapters'. However, if the methods Aristotle uses in his inquiry are, as some scholars insist, altogether different from that used by the theoretical disciplines, then Aristotle's inquiry will not be theoretical.
Whatever we conclude about the method(s) Aristotle uses in his own ethical inquiry does not, however, settle the question about the method(s) of ethical inquiry or even the method(s) Aristotle identifies as the proper method(s) of ethical inquiry. Hence, we cannot conclude from what Aristotle does in his own investigation that ethical inquiry in general is non-theoretical. Scholars, however, are not in agreement about the method(s) Aristotle identifies for ethical inquiry. But it can be said at this point that whether ethics is theoretical depends in part on what the implications of the inexactness Aristotle attributes to matters of conduct and our accounts of them are and whether these kinds of inexactness can be eliminated: For, if these kinds of inexactness imply, as some scholars insist, that ethics cannot be demonstrative, and if demonstration is the method of theoretical disciplines, then ethics falls outside the class of theoretical disciplines.[44] Whether this is so, of course, remains to be seen.
Most often, however, the characteristics in terms of which we judge whether a discipline is theoretical are those captured by Aristotle's conditions (c) and (d). Beginning with (c), we consider a discipline to be theoretical if it is concerned with things that are general, universal, or abstract, if it achieves a certain level of generality or abstractness in its accounts. By doing so, a discipline presumably goes beyond what is of practical interest, namely, the specific or the particular. Thus, despite possible differences in their methods or even their exactness, we can and do view components of physics, economics, or anthropology as theoretical.
But as pointed out earlier, Aristotle's own inquiry is primarily concerned with the most general or abstract aspects of matters of conduct. This is also the way he sees all inquiry—whether ethical, political, medical, and so forth—that is, as being concerned with the general or universal. This is true, despite Aristotle's frequent pronouncements that ethics or medicine
must reach a level of detail or specificity that includes the particular, for the following reasons: first, because the prospects for reaching such a level of specificity are, according to Aristotle, not good; second, because even if such a level of specificity were to be attained, it would still leave intact that part or component of ethical inquiry that deals with the general or abstract aspects of matters of conduct in the way Aristotle's inquiry does. Ethical inquiry, then, could not be such that it had no component that was concerned with the general or abstract. Some part or component of it would thus be theoretical by dealing with the general, universal, or abstract aspects of matters of conduct.
What of Aristotle's condition (d)? Does ethics seek causes or explanations in terms of causes, and is it therefore theoretical in that sense? This is a rather complicated matter that has been discussed recently by a number of philosophers (e.g., Gilbert Harman, Annette Baier, Bernard Williams). I shall have something to say about Aristotle's views on this matter as well as the views of these recent philosophers in subsequent chapters. All I wish to say at this point is that Aristotle does not take ethics to be a discipline that is not explanatory or that does not seek causes. His views on explanations or causes may be different from ours, but these same views also constitute his conception of a theoretical discipline. Thus, ethical inquiry must, according to Aristotle, explain why the end is the good, why there must be some end that is pursued for its own sake, why a certain activity is the good or happiness, why a certain disposition is a virtue, and so forth. Ethics, or at least a component of it, is theoretical in this sense. This is what the remark quoted earlier from E.E. means to assert—namely, that "we must not think that theoretical study of such a sort as to make manifest not only the nature of a thing but also its cause is superfluous even for the study of politics."
The above discussion shows that the emphasis Aristotle, as well as many students of his works, often places on the nature of the goals as the mark that distinguishes theoretical from nontheoretical disciplines obscures the fact that he at times draws the theoretical/nontheoretical distinction on other grounds. When focusing on these grounds, disciplines that are determined to be practical or productive, and hence nontheoretical, on the basis of the nature of their goals have much in common with theoretical disciplines. Indeed, when judged by these other factors they are theoretical, since they share the same epistemological character despite the fact that their ultimate goals may not be cognitive.
Ethics, then, may be practical in virtue of its goals, but this does not imply that it does not share some important features with the disciplines whose goals are theoretical. Thus, it is, by virtue of sharing these features, similar in some important respects to the theoretical disciplines—it is, as Aristotle reminds us, a philosophical discipline or a discipline using philo-
sophic method. To recognize that ethics has, as Aristotle understands it, some theoretical component is to recognize something that may not be trivial. For example, it may be useful for assessing whether some of the features of exactness/inexactness that Aristotle attributes to ethics apply to the whole of the discipline, that is, to the most as well as to the least theoretical aspects of it, or only to some aspects of it, that is, to those aspects that are the closest to particular practical concerns.