Nicomachean Ethics

BY

Aristotle

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Introduction from Course Instructor

The philosophical study of ethics—also called “moral

philosophy”—has provided numerous theories of correct moral

conduct, ethical theories which attempt to identify the relevant

characteristics that make morally right actions right and morally

wrong actions wrong. This is considered moral theory. More

fundamentally, however, ethics investigates what it is required in

order to live well. Two questions that will often come up this

semester are: 1) How do we generate truly, worthwhile desires—

so that we can live good, human lives? And 2) How do we live

good, human lives in the midst of an unjust world? Indeed, the

world is very messy and very complex. Misunderstanding and

ignorance are perpetuated everywhere: from friends, parents,

teachers, pastors, politicians, and media. Thus, there is mass

confusion regarding whether or not (and to what extent)

exploitation, domination, and isolation are actually built into the

very systems and structures that shape our shared, social reality.

Most of us don’t yet have the intellectual tools necessary to

understand fully the threats and complexities of the world we live

in, a world characterized by ongoing social upheaval along racial

and class lines; a world characterized by ecological catastrophe—

we are currently witnessing a major species die-off in the

biosphere and are now living through Earth’s 6th mass extinction

event; our state is characterized by massive surges in

incarceration, where the U.S. has imprisoned people (largely

defined by race and class) at a rate that is unprecedented in world

history; the last few decades in the U.S. have been characterized

by widening economic inequality, reaching historic levels not seen

since the gilded age; the global economy, led by the U.S., is

capable of producing an extraordinary surplus of meaningless

commodities while at the same time 1 in 9 children go to be

hungry every night; What does it mean to develop truly

worthwhile desires in such a world?

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What does it mean to live an ethical life—a good life—in such a

world? What are the ideas that are used to justify the way the

existing world has been organized for us? We are often expected

to work simply for our own individual happiness. Further, we are

often taught to associate happiness and meaning with having a

marriage and a career. And many desires that fall outside of this

framework are often severed at an early age. Ethical philosophy

asks us to consider whether or not our capacity to develop

worthwhile desires and dreams has deteriorated. What if that is in

fact the case? What if we aren’t even aware of that deterioration?

_____________________________________________________

The following text is abstract and difficult to comprehend—

especially if you’re just being introduced to philosophy! On top of

that, this excerpt from Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics is over

2000 years old. Yet, it is precisely the nature of happiness and the

nature of desire that Aristotle is contemplating.

Aristotle was born in a small town in Northern Greece called

Stagira. At the age of 17, Aristotle was sent to Athens to complete

his education. At the time, Athens was the intellectual and cultural

center of Ancient Greece. Aristotle spent upwards of 20 years

studying at Plato’s Academy in Athens. Along with Socrates and

Plato, Aristotle is one of the greatest philosophers of the Ancient

world and one of the most influential philosophers of all time.

It is difficult to overestimate the influence that Aristotle has had

on the development and trajectory of Western philosophy and

Western thought. His work has shaped our most basic concepts

and categories of thinking (in politics, ethics, religion,

psychology). But Aristotle’s most long lasting contribution has

been his moral philosophy, that is, his ethics.

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Ch. 1

The Good as the aim of every action

For every art and every inquiry, for every science and

investigation, and similarly for every action and pursuit and

choice, there seems to be some good which is aimed at; and

for this reason The Good has rightly been declared to be that

at which all things aim. But it is clear that there is a certain

difference to be found among the various ends [telos], or

goals, or purposes, at which we aim; some ends, or purposes,

are activities. Others are products apart from the activities

that produce them. Where there are ends that are desired

apart from the actions themselves, it is the nature of the

products to be better than the activities.1

Now, as there are many actions, arts, and sciences, there are

also many ends; the end or purpose [telos] of the medical art

is health, that of shipbuilding: a vessel. The telos of military

strategy is victory, while the end [telos] of economics is

wealth. But where such arts fall under a single capacity—as

bridle-making and the other arts concerned with horse

equipment fall under the art of riding, in the same way that

1 Aristotle is making a distinction between means-to-end activities and

activities that are ends-in-themselves. Some activities we choose to do only because doing them is necessary in order to attain some goal, which is not found in the activity itself. This is a “means-to-an-end” activity, like doing homework for the sake of getting a good grade. Yet there are other sorts of activities that we choose to do simply for their own sake, because the goal of the activity is found in the activity itself. This would be an “end-in-itself” activity, like a hobby that we choose to do not in order to achieve some further goal, but because the activity is valuable for us in itself. Of course, there are some activities that are done both as means-to-ends and as ends-in-themselves: for instance, attending art class because it’s enjoyable in itself and because attending the class is necessary in order to achieve the goal of earning a good grade. Here, “end,” “goal,” and “purpose” are all synonyms for the Greek concept of telos: the purpose of an activity.

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other arts fall under more general arts—the ends of the

master arts (that is, the more general arts) are to be preferred

over the ends of all of its subordinate arts. For it is for the

sake of the former that the latter are pursued. It makes no

difference whether the activities themselves are the ends of

the actions, or something else apart from the activities, as in

the case of the sciences just mentioned.2

Ch. 2

Politics as the master science of The Good

So, if there is some end [telos], or goal, in the realm of

action, which we desire for its own sake (and which

determines everything else we desire), and if we do not

choose everything for the sake of something else (which

means the process of desiring would go on to infinity,

rendering our desires empty and vain)—if this is the case,

then clearly this goal [telos] must be The Good and the chief

good. Will not the knowledge of it, then, be of great

importance for our lives, for how we live our lives? Shall we

not, like archers who have a mark to aim at, be more likely to

hit upon what is right? If so, we must try, in a general outline

at least, to determine what this most precious end is. And we

must determine which of the sciences or branches of

knowledge are concerned with this final end (for which

everything else is desired). It would seem to belong to the

2 It’s not just activities that have teloi (plural for telos). Different

sciences or subjects of study also have teloi. For instance, “being-victorious in battle” is the telos (purpose) of the science of military strategy, just as “building sound structures of habitation” is the telos of architecture. In this passage, Aristotle is clarifying that some sciences are broader, more general, than others. For instance, there is the science of cardiology (the study of the heart), which falls under the broader art—the “master art”—of medicine (the study of preserving or restoring health). Aristotle argues that the goals of the master arts are to be preferred over the ends of the subordinate arts, since the latter are studied for the sake of the former.

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Above is an example of how one might divide science, the “master art,”

into its subordinate arts, like the physical science and the social sciences,

etc. Just as chemistry is subordinate to physical science, physical science

is subordinate to the much more general art of science. Aristotle’s point

is that the purpose (telos) of a master art is to be preferred over (is more

valuable) than the purpose (telos) of the subordinate art, precisely

because t hey are studied for the sake of the latter.

In Ch. 1, Aristotle also argues that every single activity that we do and

every single choice that we make aims at some final goal, which he

names The Good: that for the sake of which everything action is done.

The task is determine what exactly this “final telos” is and how to attain

it. Aristotle argues that politics appears to be the “science” (or art or

subject) that studies The Good and, more, that the political art appears the

master art, the most comprehensive art, of all the arts, because ordains

which of the sciences (and arts) should be studied in a state, and it is

politics which determines what each class of citizens should learn and do,

and also what they should not learn and not do

The Good: that telos (goal) for

the sake of which all things aim.

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most authoritative art, the most comprehensive art, and that

which is most truly the master art. And politics appears to be

of this nature; for it is politics that ordains which of the

sciences should be studied in a state, and it is politics which

determines what each class of citizens should learn and do,

and also what they should not learn and not do. And we see

even the most highly esteemed capacities—the most

honorable pursuits—fall under the political: e.g. military

strategy, economics, rhetoric [argumentation as well as legal

and political discourse].

Now, since politics uses the rest of the sciences, and since,

again, it legislates what we are to do and what we are to

abstain from doing, the telos of this art must include the ends

of the others, so that this end must be the good for man. For

even if the telos is the same for a single man as it is for a

state, the telos of the state seems in all cases to be something

greater and more complete. And while it is indeed

worthwhile to attain the telos merely for one man, it is much

finer and even more godlike to attain it for the whole city-

state [polis]. These, then, are the ends at which our inquiry

aims, since it is a political science, in one sense of that term.

Ch. 4

Eudaimonia is The Good

but many views are held about it

So let us resume the discussion: Since all knowledge and

every choice aims at some good, let us discuss then what, in

our view, the aim of politics appears to be (the aim which we

earlier identified as the “highest good attainable by action.”)

Here we find that there is general agreement; for both the

common lot of men and people of superior refinement say

that that this highest good is happiness [eudaimonia]. And

they both identify “being happy” with living well and doing

well. But when it comes to a precise definition of happiness,

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the masses of people do not give the same account as the

wise. For the masses think that happiness is some plain and

obvious thing, like pleasure, wealth, or honor. The masses

differ, however, among one another when it comes to their

view on happiness, and often even the same man identifies

happiness with different things, calling happiness health

when he is ill, and calling happiness wealth when he is poor.

But, being conscious of their ignorance, the common lot of

men admire the wise-man who talks over their heads about

some great idea that is beyond their comprehension.…But to

examine all the opinions that have been held about happiness

would be somewhat fruitless; it is enough to examine those

that are most prevalent or that seem to be plausible...

Ch. 5

Various views on the highest good

Let us, however, resume our discussion from the point at

which we digressed. To judge from the sort of lives that men

in this world actually lead—most men, and men of the most

common and vulgar type, seem (not without some basis) to

identify The Good, or happiness, with pleasure. This is the

reason why they love the life of enjoyment. For there are, we

may say, three prominent types of life, three prominent

“ways-of-being”:

1) The vulgar life of pleasure, which we just mentioned

2) The political life

3) The “contemplative life.”

Now the masses are evidently quite slavish and vulgar in

their tastes, preferring a life suitable to beasts. But they get

some justification for their view of life from the fact that

many of those in very high places share these sorts of

tastes—the tastes of Sardanapallus.3

3 The sex-crazed King of Assyrian Empire in the 600s BC

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A consideration of these three prominent types of life shows

that people of superior cultivation and an active disposition

identify happiness with honor; for this is, roughly speaking,

the end of the political life. But an “honorable life” seems

too superficial an answer, since it is dependent on those who

bestow honor rather than on he who receives it. Yet, the

good that we are after—it must be something that belongs

properly to a man and not easily taken from him. Further,

men seem to pursue honor in order that they may be assured

of their goodness. At any rate, they seek to be honored by

sensible men, by men of practical wisdom. And they seek to

be honored based on their own worth and virtue. Clearly,

then, virtue is better than honor (even according to the men

who seek honor).

Perhaps one might even suppose excellence (or virtue) to be

the end of the political life, instead of honor. But even this

appears somewhat incomplete. For possession of virtue

seems actually compatible with being asleep, or with lifelong

inactivity, and, further, with the greatest sufferings and

misfortunes. But certainly a man who is virtuous, yet also

miserable—no one could call this man happy, unless doing it

just for the sake of argument. But enough of this. There was

the vulgar pleasure seeking life, the life of honor, and third

comes the contemplative life, but we shall only consider this

later.

Now, the life of money-making is a form of life undertaken

through compulsion. And wealth is evidently not the good

we are seeking. For wealth is merely useful and pursued for

the sake of something else. And so one might rather regard

the before mentioned objects—pleasure, honor,

contemplation—to be the end (telos) of the good life. For

they have intrinsic worth. They are loved and desired for

themselves.

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But it is evident that not even these are really final ends; yet

many arguments have been thrown away in support of them.

Let us leave this subject, then.

Ch. 7

The Good is the final and self-sufficient;

happiness [eudaimonia] is defined

Let us again return to the good that we have been seeking

and ask what it can be. It seems to be different in different

actions and arts; it is one thing in medicine, another in

military strategy, and so on with the other arts.

What then is the good of each of those arts? Surely, it must

be that for whose sake everything else is done. In medicine

this is health, in military strategy it is victory, in building it

would be the production of a house—and in any other

sphere, or art, it would be something else. But it is always,

and in every art, ultimately for the sake of the end, the telos,

that all the activities associated with the art are performed.

Therefore, if there is some one end, or some one goal, for all

that we do—well then this end or goal will be The Good

achievable by action. And if there are more than one, then

these many ends will together make up the goods achievable

by action.

So, the argument has proceeded such that we have reached

the same point where we began in Ch. 2: namely, that there

at least appears to be some end, in the realm of action, that is

desired for its own sake and which determines all other

desires: a final telos. But we must try to clarify this even

further. Since there are, obviously, several ends, and since

we choose some of these ends (for example, wealth, and all

other means and instruments) for the sake of something else,

clearly not all ends are final ends; but the chief good is

evidently something final. Therefore, if there is only one

final end—one final goal—this will be what we are seeking,

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and if there are more than one, the most final of these will be

what we are seeking.

Now, we call that which is in itself worthy of pursuit more

final than that which is worthy of pursuit for the sake of

something else. And we call that which is never desirable for

the sake of something else more final than the things that are

desirable both in themselves and for the sake of something

else.4 Therefore, what is always chosen as an end in itself

(which is never chosen as means to something else) we call

final, in an unqualified sense. It is that which is always

desirable in itself and never for the sake of something else.

Now, it appears that we are describing that which we call

“happiness” [eudaimonia]. Happiness, above all else, is held

to be this final end that is desired for itself and nothing else.

On the other hand, consider honor, pleasure, beauty,

intelligence, and every virtue that is chosen for itself. We

choose these virtues for themselves, because if nothing else

resulted from them, we would still choose them. But we

choose them also for the sake of eudaimonia, judging that by

acquiring them we shall be happy. Happiness, eudaimonia,

on the other hand is never chosen for the sake of these

previous virtues. No, in general, happiness is never chosen

for anything other than itself.

If we consider eudaimonia while having in mind the notion

of “self-sufficiency” the same result seems to follow. That is

to say, the final good [eudaimonia] is thought to be self-

sufficient. Now, by “self-sufficient” we do not mean the man

who lives in isolation, as though he had no desire for or need

4 Pleasure and honor and beauty would be examples of things which are

desired for themselves (making them intrinsically valuable) but also desirable for the sake of something else (namely, living happily). Aristotle is arguing that there is something which is desirable in itself (intrinsically valuable) and only desirable in itself. Happiness is this thing.

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of others. No, we have in mind the men who live with, and

for, their parents, their children, their wives, their friends,

and general, men who live with and for their fellow citizens.

This is because man is born for citizenship—man is a

political being. But, of course, some limit must be set to this.

For if we extend our requirement to ancestors and

descendants and friends of friends, then we are in for an

infinite series. However, let us examine this particular on

another occasion.

The self-sufficiency we have in mind, then, is: that which

taken by itself makes life something desirable and deficient

in nothing. And as such, we think happiness [eudaimonia] to

be exactly this.5 Further, we think it the most desirable of all

things, without being counted as simply “one good thing

among others.” Indeed, if eudaimonia were thought of as

merely one good thing among other good things, then adding

more goods to it (even negligible goods) would improve

eudaimonia, because the addition would produce an extra

amount of good. And a greater amount of good is always

more desirable than a lesser amount. We see then that

eudaimonia is something final and self-sufficient. It is the

ultimate end, the telos, of all our actions. Presumably,

however, to say that happiness is the chief good seems a

little trite, a mere platitude. A clearer account of the nature of

eudaimonia is still desired.

5 Here Aristotle is defining eudaimonia as self-sufficient, meaning that

nothing is lacking in the life of eudaimonia, virtues that one would still need to acquire in order to make them happy. On the other hand, leading a life that is full of bodily pleasure and many other beautiful things might still be a life that is deficient in other necessary goods and virtues that are required in order to live happily—such as having meaningful work and meaningful relationships, for instance. Thus, the virtues of pleasure, beauty, and other intrinsically value things cannot be said to be “self-sufficient.” But eudaimonia indicates (by its very defintion) a form of life that is not lacking in anything, meaning that eudaimonia, unlike pleasure and beauty, is “self-sufficient.”

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Functional Conception of Goodness

Perhaps, a clearer account of happiness could be given, if we

could first ascertain the function [ergon] of man. For just as

it is for a flute-player, or a sculptor, or an artist—and in

general, for anyone who fulfills some function or performs

some action—the “good” and the “well” seem to reside in

the proper function, if of course that thing has a function.

Do the carpenter, then, and the tanner have certain functions

or activities, and yet man in general has none? Is man born

without a function? Or as eye, hand, foot, and in general

each of the parts of the body evidently has a function,6 may

one lay it down also that man, similarly, has a function apart

from all these? What then can this function be?

Life seems to be common even to plants, but we are seeking

what is peculiar to man. Let us exclude, therefore, the life of

nutrition and growth from being the function [ergon] of a

man.7 Next there would be a life of perception, but this also

6 Function (in Greek, ergon) is the characteristic activity of something,

the activity that characterizes what something is. The function of a thing, therefore, exhibits the telos of a thing (what its purpose is). For example, the function (ergon) of the eye is to see, and even though the eye is also capable of other activities, like winking and flirting, these are not the activities that exhibit the purpose of the eye. Similarly the function of the ear is to hear. The function of the heart is to pump blood, etc. etc. Aristotle notes that all of the different parts and organs that make up a person have functions, but he is asking whether or not a person in general has a function. Similarly, with regard to a person’s profession, they have a function; the function of a carpenter is to convert wood into objects and the function of a teacher is to educate their students. But apart from their particular profession, what is the function of a person as a person? 7 By “the life of nutrition and growth” Aristotle is simply referring to the

physiological processes that allow a creature (plant, animal, or human) to grow and develop. For plants, this would include converting sunlight into energy, taking nutrients from the soil, blooming, etc. For animals and humans, it would include eating and drinking, distributing oxygen

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seems to be common even to the horse, the ox, and every

other animal. So, neither nutrition nor perception qualify as

the function of man. There remains, then, the active-life

[energeia] of the rational element [logos]. The rational

element of man has two parts: one part is rational in the

sense that it is obedient to the dictates of reason and the other

part is rational in the sense that it possesses and conceives of

rational rules; it possesses and exercises thought.

Because the “active-life of the rational element” has two

meanings, we must make it clear that we mean—when we’re

getting after the function of man—a life that is determined

by the activity (as opposed to the mere possession) of the

rational element of man. For the activity, it seems, has a

greater claim to be the function of man. The proper function

of man, then, is an activity of the soul [psyche] which

follows or implies a rational principle or standard. And if we

say “so-and-so has a good function,” we mean that he sets

high standards for himself. He is a “serious man”

[spoudaios]. For example, the proper function of a harpist is

the same thing as the function of a harpist who has set high

standards for himself. The same applies to any and every

group of individuals. Of course, the attainment of excellence

must be added to the mere function. In other words, the

function of the harpist is to play the harp. The function of the

harpist who sets high standards for himself is to play the harp

well.

On these assumptions, if we take the proper function of man

to be a certain kind of life, and if this kind of life is an

activity of the soul and consists of actions performed in

conjunction with the rational element [logos], and moreover

and blood throughout the body, etc. etc. In order to for an activity to qualify as the function for a human being, Aristotle is arguing that this activity must be unique to human beings. Because we share the nutritive activity with plants and animals, it is not the ergon of man in general.

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if a man of high standards is he who performs the actions

well and properly, and if a function is well-performed when

it is performed in accordance with the excellence appropriate

to it—then based on all this, we reach this conclusion: that

The Good of man is an activity of the soul in conformity

with excellence or virtue, and if there are several virtues,

then in conformity with the best and most complete.

But we must add to this: “in a complete life.” For one

songbird does not make a spring, nor does one sunny day.

Similarly, one good day, or a short time, does not make a

man blessed and happy.

Translators used: Martin Ostwald and W.D. Ross

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Does the carpenter, then, and the tanner have certain functions or

activities, and yet man in general has none? Is man born without a function?

Or as eye, hand, foot, and in general each of the parts of the body evidently

has a function, may one lay it down also that man, similarly, has a function

apart from all these? What then can this function be?

We are often expected to work simply for our own individual happiness.

Further, we are often taught to associate happiness and meaning with

having a marriage and a career. And so desires that fall outside of this

framework are often severed at an early age. Ethical philosophy asks us to

consider whether or not our capacity to develop worthwhile dreams and

desires has deteriorated. What if that is in fact the case? What if we aren’t

even aware of that deterioration?