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.