Topics
& Readings
Jan 10 Introduction
Jan 17 B The Nature of Ethics: Happiness,
Excellence & the Good Life
questions: Hans Lund
Aristotle,
Nicomachean Ethics, Book 1. (Digest).
Barnes: Aristotle,
A Very Short Introduction (chs 1-13)
John Wallach, Contemporary
Aristotelianism” (just pp
613-27) Political Theory 20:4, 1992 (e-journal)
Jan 24 B Virtue, Character, & The
Mean
seminar
paper: Matthew Morgan commentary:
Kevin Hoy
questions: Jessie Larter
Aristotle,
Nicomachean Ethics, Book 2
Everson, APsychology@ (course
pack)
Barnes: Aristotle,
A Very Short Introduction (finish)
Jan 31 B Responsibility
/ The Virtues
seminar
paper: Geoff Sigalet commentary: Tanya Whyte
questions: Irek Rek
Aristotle,
Nicomachean Ethics, Books 3-4 (Digest
Book 3 with a one paragraph summary of Book 4.)
Rhetoric, Book 2 (2-11)
(webpage)
Feb
7 B Justice
seminar
paper: Kiosh Iselin commentary: Geoff Sigalet
questions: Akimi Fukaura
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Book 5.
Feb
14 B Practical Wisdom / The Critique of Socrates [K Essay #1 due Friday, Feb 15th]
seminar
paper: Kevin Hoy commentary: Matthew Morgan
questions: Sarolta Saskiw
Aristotle,
Nicomachean Ethics, Book 6 and Book 7 (chs 1-10). (Digest both) Note: The rest of Book 7 (chs 11-14) will
be considered with Book 10
C.D.C. Reeve, “Aristotle on the Virtues of
Thought” (course pack)
David Bostock,
“Appendix: Note on the Practical Syllogism” (course pack)
Feb 21 Reading Week
Feb 28B Friendship
seminar
paper: Sarolta Saskiw commentary: Akimi Fukaura
questions:
Dwayne Barnaby
Aristotle,
Nicomachean Ethics, Books 8‑9
(Digest both)
Mar
6 B Happiness,
Pleasure & The Best Life
seminar
paper: Dwayne Barnaby commentary: Kiosh Iselin
questions: Tanya Whyte
Aristotle,
Nicomachean Ethics, Book 7 (chs 11-14) and Book 10. (Digest both)
Annas,
“Happiness as Achievement”, Daedalus (Spring 2004). (e-journal)
Note: Topics and readings
for the remainder of the course are provisional and may be changed to take up
issues of particular interest. Please
bring any interests to my attention.
Mar
13 B Overview of Aristotelean Ethics: Character
& Virtue
seminar
paper: Jessie Larter commentary: Hans Lund
questions: Kevin Hoy
Burnyeat, AAristotle
on Learning to be Good@ (course
pack)
Vasilou,
“The Role of Good Upbringing in Aristotle’s Ethics”,
Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 56:4 1996 (ejournal)
Review: Nicomachean Ethics, Books 2-5 (Bk 1 will be
reviewed later, with Bk 10.)
Recommended for
adventurers: Aristotle, On the Soul Book 3, Parts 4-7, available on
line at http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/soul.3.iii.html
Mar
20 B Friendship (note change in order) [K Essay #2 Tuesday, March 25th]
seminar
paper: Akimi Fukaura commentary: Sarolta Saskiw
questions: Geoff Sigalet
Sherman,
“Aristotle on Friendship and the Shared Life” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research
47:4 1987 (ejournal)
Cooper, AAristotle
on Friendship@ (course pack)
Nussbaum, AThe
Vulnerability of The Good Human Life@:
the first part (pp 343-54) (course
pack)
Review: Nicomachean
Ethics, Books 8-9.
Mar 27
B Practical
Wisdom & The Virtues
seminar
paper: Hans Lund commentary: Jessie Larter
questions: Kiosh Iselin
Nussbaum, AThe
Discernment of Perception@ (course
pack)
Fiasse, “Aristotle’s
Phronesis”, The Review of Metaphysics 55 2001 (ejournal)
Purshouse,
“Neoptolemus’s Soul”, British Journal for the History of
Philosophy 14:2 2006 (ejournal)
Review: Nicomachean
Ethics, Books 6-7. (esp Book
6, chs 12-13)
Cooper, AFriendship
and the Good in Aristotle@, The
Philosophical Review 86:3 (1977), 290-315 (e-journal)
Apr 3
B
Pleasure, Happiness and Contemplation
seminar
paper: Tanya Whyte commentary: Irek Rek
questions:
Matthew Morgan
Rorty,
AThe
Place of Contemplation in Aristotle=s
Nicomachean Ethics@, Mind 87 (1978),
343-358 (e-journal)
Wilkes,
AThe
Good Man and the Good for Man in Aristotle=s
Ethics@, Mind 87 (1978),
553-571 (e-journal)
Nagel, AAristotle on Eudaimionia@,
Phronesis 17 (1972), 252-59 (e-journal)
Maybe also
Metaphysics 12 (6-10)
Review: Nicomachean
Ethics, Book 10, ch
7-8
Apr 10
B
Final Seminar (readings may be revised)
seminar
paper: Irek Rek commentary: Dwayne Barnaby
Lawrence, “Aristotle and The Ideal
Life”, Philosophical Review 102:1 1993 (e-journal)
Julia Annas,
“Ancient Ethics and Modern Morality” Philosophical Perspectives 6
(1992) (e-journal)
Apr 17 - Essay # 3 due
FURTHER READING
(ADVANCED)
These
supplementary readings are listed for those who might want to do further work
on particular topics. They are not
required for the seminars or essays. All
references are to e-journals.
Happiness, Pleasure & The Best Life
Julia Annas, “Happiness as
Achievement”, Daedalus 133:2
(Spring 2004)
Martha C. Nussbaum, “Mill between Aristotle
& Bentham”, Daedalus 133:2 (Spring 2004)
Overview of Aristotelean Ethics: Character &
Virtue
Aristotle,
On the Soul Book 3, Parts 4-7, available on line at
http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/soul.3.iii.html
Michael S. Kochin, “Individual Narrative And
Political Character”, Review of Metaphysics 55:4 (2002)
Christopher Mirus, “Aristotle’s
Agathon”, Review of Metaphysics 57 (March, 2004)
David Wiggins, “Neo-Aristotelian Reflections
on Justice”, Mind 113 (July 2004)
Practical Wisdom & The Virtues
Arash Abizadeh, “The Passions of the Wise:
Phronêsis, Rhetoric, and Aristotle's Passionate Practical
Deliberation”, Review of Metaphysics 56:2 (December 2002)
Alex
John London, “Moral knowledge and the Acquisition of Virtue in
Aristotle’s Nicomachean and Eudemian Ethics”, Review of Metaphysics 54 (March 2001)
Nussbaum, “The Discernment of
Perception” (course pack)
Friendship
& the Social Character of
Ethics
Robert
Sokolowski, Phenomenology of Friendship”, Review of Metaphysics 55
(March 2002)
Happiness and Contemplation
Julia
Annas, “Happiness as Achievement”, Daedalus 133:2 (Spring 2004)
Jonathan
Jacobs, “Why Is Virtue Naturally Pleasing?”, Review of
Metaphysics 49:1 (1995)
Martha C. Nussbaum, “Mill between Aristotle
& Bentham”, Daedalus 133:2 (Spring 2004)
Concluding topic: the best “best life”
Stephen Buckle, “Aristotle’s Republic:
or, Why Aristotle’s Ethics is Not Virtue Ethics”, Philosophy 77
(2002)
Gary Gurtler, “The Activity of Happiness in
Aristotle's Ethics”, Review of Metaphysics 56:4 (June 2003)
These topics aren’t particularly recommended.
In fact, they aren’t very good – any topic you make up will be
better than any of these. But if
you’re stuck for a topic, these might help you get going
....
The Nature of Ethics: Happiness, Excellence &
the Good Life
1. Aristotle
claims: “you cannot quite regard a man as happy if he is very ugly to
look at or of humble origin ...”?
2. Is
Aristotle right that good persons will be happy -- no matter what tragedy
befalls them or
those for whom they care?
(Imagine a parent whose child is killed ... if the parent was unhappy
would this indicate that something was wrong with him/her (or that s/he was
not a good person)?
Virtue, Character, & the Mean
1. Test what Aristotle
says about responsibility by considering a case of death resulting from drunk
driving: what degree of punishment (blame) would he consider appropriate, and
would he be right?
2. In the case of domestic violence (or a
death resulting from drunk driving), what should be the main concern of the
judicial system in determining guilt and punishment: the act, or the effects
of the act, or the intent and mental state of the individual doing it?
The Virtues
1. Do you
agree with Aristotle’s list of the virtues? For example, why isn’t compassion (or
empathy or sensitivity) on the list?
Does he understand courage the right way?
2. Take any one of the emotions considered in
the Rhetoric and assess
Aristotle’s understanding of its virtuous form in the Ethics.
3. “The idea of magnificence as a virtue
means that an individual can be a better person and have a better life if
they are wealthy than if they are poor”. Discuss
Practical Wisdom / Weakness of the Will
1. Which is
worse: cowardice, or a violent temper?
2.
“Neoptolemus told a lie in order to bring the Trojan war to an
end. Surely the lie was justified by
the good consequences it brought about.
But Aristotle suggests (twice) that it was wrong.” Why?
Friendship
In Plato's Republic Polemarchos defines
"justice" as "giving benefits to friends and harms to
enemies". Many philosophers today
reject this view on the grounds that one should never consider whether
another person is a friend or enemy in deciding how to treat them. But wouldn't Aristotle say that the best
person does exactly this, and isn't he right?
Happiness, Pleasure & the Best Life
Who has the best (or happiest) life: the person who
is (a) morally good, (b) actively involved in the community, or (c) a
scholar.
source: http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/rhetoric.2.ii.html
Rhetoric
By Aristotle
Translated by W. Rhys Roberts
Book
II
Part 2
Anger may be defined as an impulse, accompanied by pain, to a conspicuous revenge for a conspicuous slight directed without justification
towards what concerns oneself or towards what concerns one's
friends. If this is a proper definition of anger, it must
always be felt towards some particular individual, e.g. Cleon,
and not 'man' in general. It must be felt because the other
has done or intended to do something to him or one of his friends. It must always be attended by a certain pleasure-that which arises
from the expectation of revenge. For since nobody aims at what
he thinks he cannot attain, the angry man is aiming at what he
can attain, and the belief that you will attain your aim is
pleasant. Hence it has been well said about wrath,
"Sweeter it is by far than the honeycomb
"dripping with sweetness,
"And spreads through the hearts of men. "
It is also attended by a certain pleasure because the thoughts
dwell upon the act of vengeance, and the images then called up
cause pleasure, like the images called up in dreams.
Now slighting is the actively entertained opinion of something as
obviously of no importance. We think bad things, as well as good ones, have serious importance; and we think the same of anything that
tends to produce such things, while those which have little or
no such tendency we consider unimportant. There are three
kinds of slighting-contempt, spite, and insolence. (1)
Contempt is one kind of slighting: you feel contempt for what
you consider unimportant, and it is just such things that you slight.
(2) Spite is another kind; it is a thwarting another man's wishes, not to get something yourself but to prevent his getting it. The
slight arises just from the fact that you do not aim at
something for yourself: clearly you do not think that he can
do you harm, for then you would be afraid of him instead of
slighting him, nor yet that he can do you any good worth
mentioning, for then you would be anxious to make friends with him.
(3) Insolence is also a form of slighting, since it consists in doing and saying things that cause shame to the victim, not in order
that anything may happen to yourself,
or because anything has happened to yourself, but simply for
the pleasure involved. (Retaliation is not 'insolence', but vengeance.)
The cause of the pleasure thus enjoyed by the insolent man is
that he thinks himself greatly superior to others when ill-treating them. That is why youths and rich men are insolent; they think
themselves superior when they show insolence. One sort of
insolence is to rob people of the honour due to them; you
certainly slight them thus; for it is the unimportant, for
good or evil, that has no honour paid to it. So
Achilles says in anger:
"He hath taken my prize for himself
"and hath done me dishonour, "
and
"Like an alien honoured by none, "
meaning that this is why he is angry. A man expects to be
specially respected by his inferiors in birth, in capacity,
in goodness, and generally in anything in which he is much
their superior: as where money is concerned a wealthy man
looks for respect from a poor man; where speaking is concerned, the man with a turn for oratory looks for respect from one who
cannot speak; the ruler demands the respect of the ruled, and
the man who thinks he ought to be a ruler demands the respect
of the man whom he thinks he ought to be ruling. Hence it has
been said
"Great is the wrath of kings, whose father is Zeus
almighty, "
and
"Yea, but his rancour abideth long afterward also, "
their great resentment being due to their great superiority.
Then again a man looks for respect from those who he thinks
owe him good treatment, and these are the people whom he has
treated or is treating well, or means or has meant to treat
well, either himself, or through his friends, or through
others at his request.
It will be plain by now, from what has been said, (1) in what frame of mind, (2) with what persons, and (3) on what grounds people
grow angry. (1) The frame of mind is that of one in which any
pain is being felt. In that condition, a man is always aiming
at something. Whether, then, another man opposes him either
directly in any way, as by preventing him from drinking when
he is thirsty, or indirectly, the act appears to him just the same; whether some one works against him, or fails to work with him,
or otherwise vexes him while he is in this mood, he is
equally angry in all these cases. Hence people who are
afflicted by sickness or poverty or love or thirst or any
other unsatisfied desires are prone to anger and easily roused: especially
against those who slight their present distress. Thus a sick man
is angered by disregard of his illness, a poor man by disregard of his poverty, a man aging war by disregard of the war he is
waging, a lover by disregard of his love, and so throughout,
any other sort of slight being enough if special slights are
wanting. Each man is predisposed, by the emotion now
controlling him, to his own particular anger. Further, we are angered
if we happen to be expecting a contrary result: for a quite unexpected evil is specially painful, just as the
quite unexpected fulfilment of our wishes is specially
pleasant. Hence it is plain what seasons, times, conditions, and
periods of life tend to stir men easily to anger, and where and when this will happen; and it is plain that the more we are under
these conditions the more easily we are stirred.
These, then, are the frames of mind in which men are easily stirred to anger. The persons with whom we get angry are those who
laugh, mock, or jeer at us, for such conduct is insolent.
Also those who inflict injuries upon us that are marks of
insolence. These injuries must be such as are neither
retaliatory nor profitable to the doers: for only then will they be
felt to be due to insolence. Also those who speak ill of us, and show contempt for us, in connexion with the things we ourselves most
care about: thus those who are eager to win fame as
philosophers get angry with those who show contempt for their
philosophy; those who pride themselves upon their appearance
get angry with those who show contempt for their appearance and
so on in other cases. We feel particularly angry on this account if we suspect that we are in fact, or that people think we are,
lacking completely or to any effective extent in the
qualities in question. For when we are convinced that we
excel in the qualities for which we are jeered at, we can
ignore the jeering. Again, we are angrier with our friends than with other people, since we feel that our friends ought to treat us
well and not badly. We are angry with those who have usually
treated us with honour or regard, if a change comes and they
behave to us otherwise: for we think that they feel contempt
for us, or they would still be behaving as they did before.
And with those who do not return our kindnesses or fail to return
them adequately, and with those who oppose us though they are our inferiors: for all such persons seem to feel contempt for us;
those who oppose us seem to think us inferior to themselves,
and those who do not return our kindnesses seem to think that
those kindnesses were conferred by inferiors. And we feel
particularly angry with men of no account at all, if they
slight us. For, by our hypothesis, the anger caused by the slight
is felt towards people who are not justified in slighting us, and our inferiors are not thus justified. Again, we feel angry with
friends if they do not speak well of us or treat us well; and
still more, if they do the contrary; or if they do not
perceive our needs, which is why Plexippus is angry with
Meleager in Antiphon's play; for this want of perception shows
that they are slighting us-we do not fail to perceive the needs of those for whom we care. Again we are angry with those who
rejoice at our misfortunes or simply keep cheerful in the
midst of our misfortunes, since this shows that they either
hate us or are slighting us. Also with those who are
indifferent to the pain they give us: this is why we get angry with
bringers of bad news. And with those who listen to stories about us or keep on looking at our weaknesses; this seems like either
slighting us or hating us; for those who love us share in all
our distresses and it must distress any one to keep on
looking at his own weaknesses. Further, with those who slight
us before five classes of people: namely, (1) our rivals, (2)
those whom we admire, (3) those whom we wish to admire us, (4)
those for whom we feel reverence, (5) those who feel reverence for us: if any one slights us before such persons, we feel
particularly angry. Again, we feel angry with those who
slight us in connexion with what we are as honourable men
bound to champion-our parents, children, wives, or subjects.
And with those who do not return a favour, since such a slight is
unjustifiable. Also with those who reply with humorous levity when we are speaking seriously, for such behaviour indicates contempt.
And with those who treat us less well than they treat
everybody else; it is another mark of contempt that they
should think we do not deserve what every one else deserves.
Forgetfulness, too, causes anger, as when our own names are
forgotten, trifling as this may be; since forgetfulness is felt to be another sign that we are being slighted; it is due to
negligence, and to neglect us is to slight us.
The persons with whom we feel anger, the frame of mind in which we
feel it, and the reasons why we feel it, have now
all been set forth. Clearly the orator will have to speak so
as to bring his hearers into a frame of mind that will
dispose them to anger, and to represent his adversaries as
open to such charges and possessed of such qualities as do make people angry.
Part 3
Since growing calm is the opposite of growing angry, and calmness the opposite of anger, we must ascertain in what frames of mind
men are calm, towards whom they feel calm, and by what means
they are made so. Growing calm may be defined as a settling
down or quieting of anger. Now we get angry with those who
slight us; and since slighting is a voluntary act, it is
plain that we feel calm towards those who do nothing of the kind,
or who do or seem to do it involuntarily. Also towards those who intended
to do the opposite of what they did do. Also towards those who treat
themselves as they have treated us: since no one can be supposed to
slight himself. Also towards those who admit their fault and are sorry: since we accept their grief at what they have done as
satisfaction, and cease to be angry. The punishment of
servants shows this: those who contradict us and deny their
offence we punish all the more, but we cease to be incensed against
those who agree that they deserved their punishment. The reason is
that it is shameless to deny what is obvious, and those who are shameless towards us slight us and show contempt for us: anyhow, we do not
feel shame before those of whom we are thoroughly
contemptuous. Also we feel calm towards those who humble
themselves before us and do not gainsay us; we feel that they
thus admit themselves our inferiors, and inferiors feel fear,
and nobody can slight any one so long as he feels afraid of him. That
our anger ceases towards those who humble themselves before us is shown even by dogs, who do not bite
people when they sit down. We also feel calm towards those
who are serious when we are serious, because then we feel
that we are treated seriously and not contemptuously. Also towards those who have done us more kindnesses than we have done them.
Also towards those who pray to us and beg for mercy, since
they humble themselves by doing so. Also towards those who do
not insult or mock at or slight any one at all, or not any
worthy person or any one like ourselves. In general,
the things that make us calm may be inferred by seeing what
the opposites are of those that make us angry. We are not
angry with people we fear or respect, as long as we fear or
respect them; you cannot be afraid of a person and also at
the same time angry with him. Again, we feel no anger, or
comparatively little, with those who have done what they did through anger: we do not feel that they have done it from a wish to
slight us, for no one slights people when angry with them,
since slighting is painless, and anger is painful. Nor do we
grow angry with those who reverence us.
As to the frame of mind that makes people calm, it is plainly the opposite to that which makes them angry, as when they are
amusing themselves or laughing or feasting; when they are
feeling prosperous or successful or satisfied; when, in fine,
they are enjoying freedom from pain, or inoffensive pleasure,
or justifiable hope. Also when time has passed and their anger is
no longer fresh, for time puts an end to anger. And vengeance previously taken on one person puts an end to even greater anger felt
against another person. Hence Philocrates, being asked by
some one, at a time when the public was angry with him, 'Why
don't you defend yourself?' did right to reply, 'The time is
not yet.' 'Why, when is the time?' 'When I see someone else
calumniated.' For men become calm when they have spent their anger on somebody else. This happened in the case of Ergophilus: though
the people were more irritated against him than against
Callisthenes, they acquitted him because they had condemned
Callisthenes to death the day before. Again, men become calm
if they have convicted the offender; or if he has already suffered
worse things than they in their anger would have themselves inflicted upon him; for they feel as if they were already avenged. Or if
they feel that they themselves are in the wrong and are
suffering justly (for anger is not excited by what is just),
since men no longer think then that they are suffering
without justification; and anger, as we have seen, means this.
Hence we ought always to inflict a preliminary punishment in words: if that is done, even slaves are less aggrieved by the actual
punishment. We also feel calm if we think that the offender
will not see that he is punished on our account and because
of the way he has treated us. For anger has to do with
individuals. This is plain from the definition. Hence the poet
has well written:
"Say that it was Odysseus, sacker of cities, "
implying that Odysseus would not have considered himself
avenged unless the Cyclops perceived both by whom and for
what he had been blinded. Consequently we do not get angry
with any one who cannot be aware of our anger, and in particular
we cease to be angry with people once they are dead, for we
feel that the worst has been done to them, and that they will neither feel pain nor anything else that we in our anger aim at making
them feel. And therefore the poet has well made Apollo say,
in order to put a stop to the anger of Achilles against the
dead Hector,
"For behold in his fury he doeth despite to the
senseless clay. "
It is now plain that when you wish to calm others you must draw upon
these lines of argument; you must put your hearers into the corresponding frame of mind, and represent those with whom they are angry as
formidable, or as worthy of reverence, or as benefactors, or
as involuntary agents, or as much distressed at what they
have done.
Part 4
Let us now turn to Friendship and Enmity, and ask towards whom these
feelings are entertained, and why. We will begin by defining and friendly
feeling. We may describe friendly feeling towards any one as wishing for him what you believe to be good things, not for your own
sake but for his, and being inclined, so far as you can, to
bring these things about. A friend is one who feels thus and
excites these feelings in return: those who think they feel
thus towards each other think themselves friends. This being
assumed, it follows that your friend is the sort of man who shares your pleasure in what is good and your pain in what is
unpleasant, for your sake and for no other reason. This
pleasure and pain of his will be the token of his good wishes
for you, since we all feel glad at getting what we wish for,
and pained at getting what we do not. Those, then, are friends
to whom the same things are good and evil; and those who are, moreover, friendly or unfriendly to the same people; for in that case they
must have the same wishes, and thus by wishing for each other
what they wish for themselves, they show themselves each
other's friends. Again, we feel friendly to those who have
treated us well, either ourselves or those we care for, whether
on a large scale, or readily, or at some particular crisis; provided it was for our own sake. And also to those who we think wish to
treat us well. And also to our friends' friends,
and to those who like, or are liked by, those whom we like
ourselves. And also to those who are enemies to those whose
enemies we are, and dislike, or are disliked by, those whom we
dislike. For all such persons think the things good which we think good, so that they wish what is good for us; and this, as we saw, is
what friends must do. And also to those who are willing to
treat us well where money or our personal safety is
concerned: and therefore we value those who are liberal,
brave, or just. The just we consider to be those who do not live on
others; which means those who work for their living, especially farmers and others who work with their own hands. We also like temperate
men, because they are not unjust to others; and, for the same
reason, those who mind their own business. And also those
whose friends we wish to be, if it is plain that they wish to
be our friends: such are the morally good, and those well
thought of by every one, by the best men, or by those whom we admire
or who admire us. And also those with whom it is pleasant to live and spend our days: such are the good-tempered, and those who
are not too ready to show us our mistakes, and those who are
not cantankerous or quarrelsome-such people are always
wanting to fight us, and those who fight us we feel wish for
the opposite of what we wish for ourselves-and those who have the tact to make and take a joke; here both parties have the same object
in view, when they can stand being made fun of as well as do
it prettily themselves. And we also feel friendly towards
those who praise such good qualities as we possess, and
especially if they praise the good qualities that we are not
too sure we do possess. And towards those who are cleanly in their person, their dress, and all their way of life. And towards
those who do not reproach us with what we have done amiss to
them or they have done to help us, for both actions show a
tendency to criticize us. And towards those who do not nurse
grudges or store up grievances, but are always ready to make
friends again; for we take it that they will behave to us just as
we find them behaving to every one else. And towards those who are not evil speakers and who are aware of neither their neighbours' bad
points nor our own, but of our good ones only, as a good man
always will be. And towards those who do not try to thwart us
when we are angry or in earnest, which would mean being ready
to fight us. And towards those who have some serious feeling
towards us, such as admiration for us, or belief in our goodness,
or pleasure in our company; especially if they feel like this about
qualities in us for which we especially wish to be admired, esteemed, or liked. And towards those who are like ourselves in character
and occupation, provided they do not get in our way or gain
their living from the same source as we do-for then it will
be a case of 'potter against potter':
"Potter to potter and builder to builder begrudge their reward. "
And those who desire the same things as we desire, if it is
possible for us both to share them together; otherwise the
same trouble arises here too. And towards those with whom we
are on such terms that, while we respect their opinions, we
need not blush before them for doing what is conventionally wrong:
as well as towards those before whom we should be ashamed to do anything
really wrong. Again, our rivals, and those whom we should like to
envy us--though without ill-feeling--either we like these people or at least we wish them to like us. And we feel friendly towards
those whom we help to secure good for themselves, provided we
are not likely to suffer heavily by it ourselves. And those
who feel as friendly to us when we are not with them as when
we are-which is why all men feel friendly towards those who
are faithful to their dead friends. And, speaking generally, towards
those who are really fond of their friends and do not desert them in trouble; of all good men, we feel most friendly to those who
show their goodness as friends. Also towards those who are
honest with us, including those who will tell us of their own
weak points: it has just said that with our friends we are
not ashamed of what is conventionally wrong, and if we do
have this feeling, we do not love them; if therefore we do not have
it, it looks as if we did love them. We also like those with whom we do not feel frightened or uncomfortable-nobody can like a man
of whom he feels frightened. Friendship has various forms-comradeship, intimacy, kinship, and
so on.
Things that cause friendship are: doing kindnesses; doing them unasked;
and not proclaiming the fact when they are done, which shows that they were done for our own sake and not for some other reason.
Enmity and Hatred should clearly be studied by reference to their opposites. Enmity may be produced by anger or spite or calumny.
Now whereas anger arises from offences against oneself,
enmity may arise even without that; we may hate people merely
because of what we take to be their character. Anger is
always concerned with individuals-a Callias or a Socrates-whereas hatred is directed also against classes: we all hate any thief
and any informer. Moreover, anger can be cured by time; but
hatred cannot. The one aims at giving pain to its object, the
other at doing him harm; the angry man wants his victims to
feel; the hater does not mind whether they feel or not. All
painful things are felt; but the greatest evils, injustice and
folly, are the least felt, since their presence causes no pain. And anger is accompanied by pain, hatred is not; the angry man feels
pain, but the hater does not. Much may happen to make the
angry man pity those who offend him, but the hater under no
circumstances wishes to pity a man whom he has once hated:
for the one would have the offenders suffer for what they
have done; the other would have them cease to exist.
It is plain from all this that we can prove people to be friends or
enemies; if they are not, we can make them out to be so; if they claim to be so, we can refute their claim; and if it is disputed
whether an action was due to anger or to hatred, we can
attribute it to whichever of these we prefer.
Part 5
To turn next to Fear, what follows will show things and persons of
which, and the states of mind in which, we feel afraid. Fear may be defined as a pain or disturbance due to a mental picture of some
destructive or painful evil in the future. Of destructive or
painful evils only; for there are some evils, e.g. wickedness
or stupidity, the prospect of which does not frighten us: I
mean only such as amount to great pains or losses. And even
these only if they appear not remote but so near as to be imminent: we do not fear things that are a very long way off: for
instance, we all know we shall die, but we are not troubled
thereby, because death is not close at hand. From this
definition it will follow that fear is caused by whatever we
feel has great power of destroying or of harming us in ways that
tend to cause us great pain. Hence the very indications of such things are terrible, making us feel that the terrible thing itself is
close at hand; the approach of what is terrible is just what
we mean by 'danger'. Such indications are the enmity and
anger of people who have power to do something to us; for it
is plain that they have the will to do it, and so they are on
the point of doing it. Also injustice in possession of power; for
it is the unjust man's will to do evil that makes him unjust. Also outraged virtue in possession of power; for it is plain that,
when outraged, it always has the will to retaliate, and now
it has the power to do so. Also fear felt by those who have
the power to do something to us, since such persons are sure
to be ready to do it. And since most men tend to be
bad-slaves to greed, and cowards in danger-it is, as a rule, a terrible thing to be at another man's mercy; and therefore, if we have
done anything horrible, those in the secret terrify us with
the thought that they may betray or desert us. And those who
can do us wrong are terrible to us when we are liable to be
wronged; for as a rule men do wrong to others whenever they
have the power to do it. And those who have been wronged, or believe themselves to be wronged, are terrible; for they are always
looking out for their opportunity. Also those who have done
people wrong, if they possess power, since they stand in fear
of retaliation: we have already said that wickedness
possessing power is terrible. Again, our rivals for a thing cause
us fear when we cannot both have it at once; for we are always at war with such men. We also fear those who are to be feared by
stronger people than ourselves: if they can hurt those
stronger people, still more can they hurt us; and, for the
same reason, we fear those whom those stronger people are
actually afraid of. Also those who have destroyed people stronger than we are. Also those who are attacking people weaker than we
are: either they are already formidable, or they will be so
when they have thus grown stronger. Of those we have wronged,
and of our enemies or rivals, it is not the passionate and
outspoken whom we have to fear, but the quiet, dissembling, unscrupulous;
since we never know when they are upon us, we can never be sure
they are at a safe distance. All terrible things are more terrible if they give us no chance of retrieving a blunder either no
chance at all, or only one that depends on our enemies and
not ourselves. Those things are also worse which we cannot,
or cannot easily, help. Speaking generally, anything causes
us to feel fear that when it happens to, or threatens, others
cause us to feel pity.
The above are, roughly, the chief things that are terrible and are
feared. Let us now describe the conditions under which we ourselves feel fear. If fear is associated with the expectation that
something destructive will happen to us, plainly nobody will
be afraid who believes nothing can happen to him; we shall
not fear things that we believe cannot happen to us, nor people
who we believe cannot inflict them upon us; nor shall we be
afraid at times when we think ourselves safe from them. It follows therefore that fear is felt by those who believe something to be likely to
happen to them, at the hands of particular persons, in a
particular form, and at a particular time. People do not
believe this when they are, or think they a are, in the midst
of great prosperity, and are in consequence insolent, contemptuous,
and reckless-the kind of character produced by wealth, physical strength,
abundance of friends, power: nor yet when they feel they have experienced
every kind of horror already and have grown callous about the future,
like men who are being flogged and are already nearly dead-if they are to feel the anguish of uncertainty, there must be some faint
expectation of escape. This appears from the fact that fear
sets us thinking what can be done, which of course nobody
does when things are hopeless. Consequently, when it is
advisable that the audience should be frightened, the orator must
make them feel that they really are in danger of something, pointing out that it has happened to others who were stronger than they
are, and is happening, or has happened, to people like
themselves, at the hands of unexpected people, in an unexpected
form, and at an unexpected time.
Having now seen the nature of fear, and of the things that cause it,
and the various states of mind in which it is felt, we can also see what Confidence is, about what things we feel it, and under what
conditions. It is the opposite of fear, and what causes it is
the opposite of what causes fear; it is, therefore, the
expectation associated with a mental picture of the nearness
of what keeps us safe and the absence or remoteness of what
is terrible: it may be due either to the near presence of what inspires
confidence or to the absence of what causes alarm. We feel it if
we can take steps-many, or important, or both-to cure or prevent trouble; if we have neither wronged others nor been wronged by them; if
we have either no rivals at all or no strong ones; if our
rivals who are strong are our friends or have treated us well
or been treated well by us; or if those whose interest is the
same as ours are the more numerous party, or the stronger, or
both.
As for our own state of mind, we feel confidence if we believe we
have often succeeded and never suffered reverses, or have often met danger and escaped it safely. For there are two reasons why
human beings face danger calmly: they may have no experience
of it, or they may have means to deal with it: thus when in
danger at sea people may feel confident about what will
happen either because they have no experience of bad weather, or
because their experience gives them the means of dealing with it. We also feel confident whenever there is nothing to terrify other
people like ourselves, or people weaker than ourselves, or
people than whom we believe ourselves to be stronger-and we
believe this if we have conquered them, or conquered others
who are as strong as they are, or stronger. Also if we
believe ourselves superior to our rivals in the number and importance of the advantages that make men formidable-wealth, physical
strength, strong bodies of supporters, extensive territory,
and the possession of all, or the most important, appliances
of war. Also if we have wronged no one, or not many, or not
those of whom we are afraid; and generally, if our relations
with the gods are satisfactory, as will be shown especially by signs
and oracles. The fact is that anger makes us confident-that anger is excited by our knowledge that we are not the wrongers but the
wronged, and that the divine power is always supposed to be
on the side of the wronged. Also when, at the outset of an
enterprise, we believe that we cannot and shall not fail, or that we shall succeed completely.-So much for the
causes of fear and confidence.
Part 6
We now turn to Shame and Shamelessness; what follows will explain the things that cause these feelings, and the persons before
whom, and the states of mind under which, they are felt.
Shame may be defined as pain or disturbance in regard to bad
things, whether present, past, or future, which seem likely
to involve us in discredit; and shamelessness as contempt or
indifference in regard to these same bad things. If this definition
be granted, it follows that we feel shame at such bad things as
we think are disgraceful to ourselves or to those we care for. These evils are, in the first place, those due to moral badness. Such
are throwing away one's shield or taking to flight; for these
bad things are due to cowardice. Also, withholding a deposit
or otherwise wronging people about money; for these acts are
due to injustice. Also, having carnal intercourse with
forbidden persons, at wrong times, or in wrong places; for these things are due to licentiousness. Also, making profit in petty or
disgraceful ways, or out of helpless persons, e.g. the poor,
or the dead-whence the proverb 'He would pick a corpse's
pocket'; for all this is due to low greed and meanness. Also,
in money matters, giving less help than you might, or none at
all, or accepting help from those worse off than yourself; so also
borrowing when it will seem like begging; begging when it will seem like asking the return of a favour; asking such a return when it
will seem like begging; praising a man in order that it may
seem like begging; and going on begging in spite of failure:
all such actions are tokens of meanness. Also, praising
people to their face, and praising extravagantly a man's good
points and glozing over his weaknesses, and showing extravagant sympathy with his grief when you are in his presence, and all that sort
of thing; all this shows the disposition of a flatterer.
Also, refusing to endure hardships that are endured by people
who are older, more delicately brought up, of higher rank, or
generally less capable of endurance than ourselves: for all
this shows effeminacy. Also, accepting benefits, especially accepting them often, from another man, and then abusing him for
conferring them: all this shows a mean, ignoble disposition.
Also, talking incessantly about yourself,
making loud professions, and appropriating the merits of others; for
this is due to boastfulness. The same is true of the actions due to any of the other forms of badness of moral character, of the
tokens of such badness, &c.: they are all disgraceful and
shameless. Another sort of bad thing at which we feel shame
is, lacking a share in the honourable things shared by every
one else, or by all or nearly all who are like ourselves. By
'those like ourselves' I mean those of our own race
or country or age or family, and generally those who are on
our own level. Once we are on a level with others, it is a
disgrace to be, say, less well educated than they are; and so
with other advantages: all the more so, in each case, if it
is seen to be our own fault: wherever we are ourselves to blame for our present, past, or future circumstances, it follows at once
that this is to a greater extent due to our moral badness. We
are moreover ashamed of having done to us, having had done,
or being about to have done to us acts that involve us in
dishonour and reproach; as when we surrender our persons, or
lend ourselves to vile deeds, e.g. when we submit to outrage. And
acts of yielding to the lust of others are shameful whether willing or unwilling (yielding to force being an instance of
unwillingness), since unresisting submission to them is due
to unmanliness or cowardice.
These things, and others like them, are what cause the feeling of
shame. Now since shame is a mental picture of disgrace, in which we shrink from the disgrace itself and not from its consequences,
and we only care what opinion is held of us because of the
people who form that opinion, it follows that the people
before whom we feel shame are those whose opinion of us
matters to us. Such persons are: those who admire us, those whom we
admire, those by whom we wish to be admired, those with whom we are competing, and those whose opinion of us we respect. We admire
those, and wish those to admire us, who possess any good
thing that is highly esteemed; or from whom we are very
anxious to get something that they are able to give us-as a
lover feels. We compete with our equals. We respect, as true, the
views of sensible people, such as our elders and those who have been well educated. And we feel more shame about a thing if it is
done openly, before all men's eyes. Hence the proverb, 'shame
dwells in the eyes'. For this reason we feel most shame
before those who will always be with us and those who notice
what we do, since in both cases eyes are upon us. We also
feel it before those not open to the same imputation as ourselves: for it is plain that their opinions about it are the opposite of
ours. Also before those who are hard on any one whose conduct
they think wrong; for what a man does himself,
he is said not to resent when his neighbours do it: so that
of course he does resent their doing what he does not do himself.
And before those who are likely to tell everybody about you; not telling
others is as good as not be lieving you wrong. People are likely to
tell others about you if you have wronged them, since they are on the look out to harm you; or if they speak evil of everybody, for
those who attack the innocent will be still more ready to
attack the guilty. And before those whose main occupation is
with their neighbours' failings-people like satirists and
writers of comedy; these are really a kind of evil-speakers and
tell-tales. And before those who have never yet known us come to grief, since their attitude to us has amounted to admiration so far:
that is why we feel ashamed to refuse those a favour who ask
one for the first time-we have not as yet lost credit with
them. Such are those who are just beginning to wish to be our
friends; for they have seen our best side only (hence the
appropriateness of Euripides' reply to the Syracusans): and such also are those among our old acquaintances who know nothing to our
discredit. And we are ashamed not merely of the actual
shameful conduct mentioned, but also of the evidences of it:
not merely, for example, of actual sexual intercourse, but
also of its evidences; and not merely of disgraceful acts but
also of disgraceful talk. Similarly we feel shame not merely in presence of the persons mentioned but also of those who will tell them
what we have done, such as their servants or friends. And,
generally, we feel no shame before those upon whose opinions
we quite look down as untrustworthy (no one feels shame
before small children or animals); nor are we ashamed of the
same things before intimates as before strangers, but before the former of what seem genuine faults, before the latter of what seem
conventional ones.
The conditions under which we shall feel shame are these: first, having
people related to us like those before whom, as has been said, we feel shame. These are, as was stated, persons whom we admire, or
who admire us, or by whom we wish to be admired, or from whom
we desire some service that we shall not obtain if we forfeit
their good opinion. These persons may be actually looking on
(as Cydias represented them in his speech on land assignments
in Samos, when he told the Athenians to imagine the Greeks to
be standing all around them, actually seeing the way they voted and not merely going to hear about it afterwards): or again they may
be near at hand, or may be likely to find out about what we
do. This is why in misfortune we do not wish to be seen by
those who once wished themselves like us; for such a feeling
implies admiration. And men feel shame when they have acts or
exploits to their credit on which they are bringing dishonour, whether
these are their own, or those of their ancestors, or those of other persons with whom they have some close connexion. Generally, we
feel shame before those for whose own misconduct we should
also feel it-those already mentioned; those who take us as
their models; those whose teachers or advisers we have been;
or other people, it may be, like ourselves, whose rivals we
are. For there are many things that shame before such people makes us do or leave undone. And we feel more shame when we are likely to
be continually seen by, and go about under the eyes of, those
who know of our disgrace. Hence, when Antiphon the poet was
to be cudgelled to death by order of Dionysius, and saw those
who were to perish with him covering their faces as they went
through the gates, he said, 'Why do you cover your faces? Is
it lest some of these spectators should see you to-morrow?'
So much for Shame; to understand Shamelessness, we need only consider the converse cases, and plainly we shall have all we need.
Part 7
To take Kindness next: the definition of it will show us towards whom
it is felt, why, and in what frames of mind. Kindness-under the influence of which a man is said to 'be kind' may be defined as
helpfulness towards some one in need, not
in return for anything, nor for the advantage of the
helper himself, but for that of the person helped. Kindness is great if shown to one who is in great need, or who needs what is
important and hard to get, or who needs it at an important
and difficult crisis; or if the helper is the only, the
first, or the chief person to give the help. Natural cravings
constitute such needs; and in particular cravings, accompanied by
pain, for what is not being attained. The appetites are cravings for this kind: sexual desire, for instance, and those which arise
during bodily injuries and in dangers; for appetite is active
both in danger and in pain. Hence those who stand by us in
poverty or in banishment, even if they do not help us much,
are yet really kind to us, because our need is great and the
occasion pressing; for instance, the man who gave the mat in the Lyceum.
The helpfulness must therefore meet, preferably, just this kind of
need; and failing just this kind, some other kind as great or greater. We now see to whom, why, and under what conditions kindness is
shown; and these facts must form the basis of our arguments.
We must show that the persons helped are, or have been, in
such pain and need as has been described, and that their
helpers gave, or are giving, the kind of help described, in
the kind of need described. We can also see how to eliminate the idea of kindness and make our opponents appear unkind: we may
maintain that they are being or have been helpful simply to
promote their own interest-this, as has been stated, is not
kindness; or that their action was accidental, or was forced
upon them; or that they were not doing a favour, but merely returning
one, whether they know this or not-in either case the action is
a mere return, and is therefore not a kindness even if the doer does not know how the case stands. In considering this subject we
must look at all the categories: an act may be an act of
kindness because (1) it is a particular thing, (2) it has a
particular magnitude or (3) quality, or (4)
is done at a particular time or (5) place. As evidence of the want of kindness, we may point out that a smaller service had been
refused to the man in need; or that the same service, or an
equal or greater one, has been given to his enemies; these
facts show that the service in question was not done for the
sake of the person helped. Or we may point out that the thing
desired was worthless and that the helper knew it: no one will admit
that he is in need of what is worthless.
Part 8
So much for Kindness and Unkindness. Let us now consider Pity, asking
ourselves what things excite pity, and for what persons, and in what
states of our mind pity is felt. Pity may be defined as a feeling of pain caused by the sight of some evil, destructive or
painful, which befalls one who does not deserve it, and which
we might expect to befall ourselves or some friend of ours,
and moreover to befall us soon. In order to feel pity, we
must obviously be capable of supposing that some evil may
happen to us or some friend of ours, and moreover some such evil as is stated in our definition or is more or less of that kind. It
is therefore not felt by those completely ruined, who suppose
that no further evil can befall them, since the worst has
befallen them already; nor by those who imagine themselves
immensely fortunate-their feeling is rather presumptuous insolence,
for when they think they possess all the good things of life, it
is clear that the impossibility of evil befalling them will be included, this being one of the good things in question. Those who think
evil may befall them are such as have already had it befall
them and have safely escaped from it; elderly men, owing to
their good sense and their experience; weak men, especially
men inclined to cowardice; and also educated people, since
these can take long views. Also those who have parents living, or children, or wives; for these are our own, and the evils
mentioned above may easily befall them. And those who neither
moved by any courageous emotion such as anger or confidence
(these emotions take no account of the future), nor by a
disposition to presumptuous insolence (insolent men, too, take no
account of the possibility that something evil will happen to them), nor yet by great fear (panic-stricken people do not feel pity,
because they are taken up with what is happening to
themselves); only those feel pity who are between these two
extremes. In order to feel pity we must also believe in the
goodness of at least some people; if you think nobody good,
you will believe that everybody deserves evil fortune. And, generally, we feel pity whenever we are in the condition of remembering
that similar misfortunes have happened to us or ours, or
expecting them to happen in the future.
So much for the mental conditions under which we feel pity. What we
pity is stated clearly in the definition. All unpleasant and painful things excite pity if they tend to destroy pain and annihilate;
and all such evils as are due to chance, if they are serious.
The painful and destructive evils are: death in its various
forms, bodily injuries and afflictions, old age, diseases,
lack of food. The evils due to chance are: friendlessness, scarcity
of friends (it is a pitiful thing to be torn away from friends and
companions), deformity, weakness, mutilation; evil coming from a source from which good ought to have come; and the frequent repetition
of such misfortunes. Also the coming of good when the worst
has happened: e.g. the arrival of the Great King's gifts for
Diopeithes after his death. Also that either no good should
have befallen a man at all, or that he should not be able to
enjoy it when it has.
The grounds, then, on which we feel pity are these or like these. The people we pity are: those whom we know, if only they are not
very closely related to us-in that case we feel about them as
if we were in danger ourselves. For this reason Amasis did
not weep, they say, at the sight of his son being led to
death, but did weep when he saw his friend begging: the latter sight
was pitiful, the former terrible, and the terrible is different from the pitiful; it tends to cast out pity, and often helps to
produce the opposite of pity. Again, we feel pity when the
danger is near ourselves. Also we pity those who are like us
in age, character, disposition, social standing, or birth;
for in all these cases it appears more likely that the same
misfortune may befall us also. Here too we have to remember the general
principle that what we fear for ourselves excites our pity when it
happens to others. Further, since it is when the sufferings of others are close to us that they excite our pity (we cannot remember
what disasters happened a hundred centuries ago, nor look
forward to what will happen a hundred centuries hereafter,
and therefore feel little pity, if any, for such things): it
follows that those who heighten the effect of their words
with suitable gestures, tones, dress, and dramatic action generally, are especially successful in exciting pity: they thus put the
disasters before our eyes, and make them seem close to us,
just coming or just past. Anything that has just happened, or
is going to happen soon, is particularly piteous: so too
therefore are the tokens and the actions of sufferers-the garments
and the like of those who have already suffered; the words and the
like of those actually suffering-of those, for instance, who are on the point of death. Most piteous of all is it when, in such
times of trial, the victims are persons of noble character:
whenever they are so, our pity is especially excited, because
their innocence, as well as the setting of their misfortunes
before our eyes, makes their misfortunes seem close to
ourselves.
Part 9
Most directly opposed to pity is the feeling called Indignation. Pain
at unmerited good fortune is, in one sense, opposite to pain at unmerited bad fortune, and is due to the same moral qualities. Both
feelings are associated with good moral character; it is our
duty both to feel sympathy and pity for unmerited distress,
and to feel indignation at unmerited prosperity; for whatever
is undeserved is unjust, and that is why we ascribe indignation even
to the gods. It might indeed be thought that envy is similarly opposed to pity, on the ground that envy it
closely akin to indignation, or even the same thing. But it
is not the same. It is true that it also is a disturbing pain
excited by the prosperity of others. But it is excited not by the prosperity of the undeserving but by that of people who are like
us or equal with us. The two feelings have this in common,
that they must be due not to some untoward thing being likely
to befall ourselves, but only to what is happening to our
neighbour. The feeling ceases to be envy in the one case and
indignation in the other, and becomes fear, if the pain and
disturbance are due to the prospect of something bad for ourselves
as the result of the other man's good fortune. The feelings
of pity and indignation will obviously be attended by the
converse feelings of satisfaction. If you are pained by the
unmerited distress of others, you will be pleased, or at
least not pained, by their merited distress. Thus no good man can be pained by the punishment of parricides or murderers. These
are things we are bound to rejoice at, as we must at the
prosperity of the deserving; both these things are just, and
both give pleasure to any honest man, since he cannot help
expecting that what has happened to a man like him will happen
to him too. All these feelings are associated with the same type of
moral character. And their contraries are associated with the contrary type; the man who is delighted by others' misfortunes is
identical with the man who envies others' prosperity. For any
one who is pained by the occurrence or existence of a given
thing must be pleased by that thing's non-existence or
destruction. We can now see that all these feelings tend to
prevent pity (though they differ among themselves, for the reasons given), so that all are equally useful for neutralizing an appeal to pity.
We will first consider Indignation-reserving the other emotions for
subsequent discussion-and ask with whom, on what grounds, and in what states of mind we may be indignant. These questions are really
answered by what has been said already. Indignation is pain
caused by the sight of undeserved good fortune. It is, then,
plain to begin with that there are some forms of good the
sight of which cannot cause it. Thus a man may be just or
brave, or acquire moral goodness: but we shall not be indignant with
him for that reason, any more than we shall pity him for the contrary reason. Indignation is roused by the sight of wealth, power, and
the like-by all those things, roughly speaking, which are
deserved by good men and by those who possess the goods of
nature-noble birth, beauty, and so on. Again, what is long
established seems akin to what exists by nature; and therefore
we feel more indignation at those possessing a given good if they
have as a matter of fact only just got it and the prosperity it brings with it. The newly rich give more offence than those whose wealth is of long standing and
inherited. The same is true of those who have office or
power, plenty of friends, a fine family, &c. We feel the same when these advantages of theirs secure them others. For here again, the
newly rich give us more offence by obtaining office through
their riches than do those whose wealth is of long standing;
and so in all other cases. The reason is that what the latter
have is felt to be really their own, but what the others have
is not; what appears to have been always what it is is regarded as
real, and so the possessions of the newly rich do not seem to be really their own. Further, it is not any and every man that deserves
any given kind of good; there is a certain correspondence and
appropriateness in such things; thus it is appropriate for
brave men, not for just men, to have fine weapons, and for
men of family, not for parvenus, to make distinguished marriages.
Indignation may therefore properly be felt when any one gets what
is not appropriate for him, though he may be a good man enough. It may also be felt when any one sets himself up against his
superior, especially against his superior in some particular
respect-whence the lines
"Only from battle he shrank with Aias Telamon's son;
"Zeus had been angered with him,
"had he fought with a mightier one; "
but also, even apart from that, when the inferior in any
sense contends with his superior; a musician, for instance,
with a just man, for justice is a finer thing than music.
Enough has been said to make clear the grounds on which, and the persons
against whom, Indignation is felt-they are those mentioned, and others
like him. As for the people who feel it; we feel it if we do ourselves deserve the greatest possible goods and moreover have them, for
it is an injustice that those who are not our equals should
have been held to deserve as much as we have. Or, secondly,
we feel it if we are really good and honest people; our
judgement is then sound, and we loathe any kind of injustice. Also
if we are ambitious and eager to gain particular ends, especially if we are ambitious for what others are getting without
deserving to get it. And, generally, if we think that we
ourselves deserve a thing and that others do not, we are
disposed to be indignant with those others so far as that
thing is concerned. Hence servile, worthless, unambitious persons are not inclined to Indignation, since there is nothing they can
believe themselves to deserve.
From all this it is plain what sort of men those are at whose misfortunes, distresses, or failures we ought to feel pleased, or at least
not pained: by considering the facts described we see at once
what their contraries are. If therefore our speech puts the
judges in such a frame of mind as that indicated and shows
that those who claim pity on certain definite grounds do not
deserve to secure pity but do deserve not to secure it, it
will be impossible for the judges to feel pity.
Part 10
To take Envy next: we can see on what grounds, against what persons, and in what states of mind we feel it. Envy is pain at the sight
of such good fortune as consists of the good things already
mentioned; we feel it towards our equals; not with the idea
of getting something for ourselves, but because the other
people have it. We shall feel it if we have, or think we
have, equals; and by 'equals' I mean equals in birth, relationship, age, disposition, distinction, or wealth. We feel envy also if
we fall but a little short of having everything; which is why
people in high place and prosperity feel it-they think every
one else is taking what belongs to themselves. Also if we are
exceptionally distinguished for some particular thing, and
especially if that thing is wisdom or good fortune. Ambitious men
are more envious than those who are not. So also those who profess wisdom; they are ambitious to be thought wise. Indeed,
generally, those who aim at a reputation for anything are
envious on this particular point. And small-minded men are
envious, for everything seems great to them. The good things
which excite envy have already been mentioned. The deeds or possessions
which arouse the love of reputation and honour and the desire for
fame, and the various gifts of fortune, are almost all subject to envy; and particularly if we desire the thing ourselves, or think we
are entitled to it, or if having it puts us a little above
others, or not having it a little below them. It is clear
also what kind of people we envy; that was included in what
has been said already: we envy those who are near us in time,
place, age, or reputation. Hence the line:
"Ay, kin can even be jealous of their kin. "
Also our fellow-competitors, who are indeed the people just
mentioned-we do not compete with men who lived a hundred
centuries ago, or those not yet born, or the dead, or those
who dwell near the Pillars of Hercules, or those whom, in our
opinion or that of others, we take to be far below us or far
above us. So too we compete with those who follow the same ends as
ourselves: we compete with our rivals in sport or in love, and generally with those who are after the same things; and it is therefore
these whom we are bound to envy beyond all others. Hence the
saying:
"Potter against potter. "
We also envy those whose possession of or success in a thing
is a reproach to us: these are our neighbours and equals; for
it is clear that it is our own fault we have missed the good
thing in question; this annoys us, and excites envy in us. We
also envy those who have what we ought to have, or have got
what we did have once. Hence old men envy younger men, and those
who have spent much envy those who have spent little on the same thing.
And men who have not got a thing, or not got it yet, envy those who
have got it quickly. We can also see what things and what persons give pleasure to envious people, and in what states of mind they feel
it: the states of mind in which they feel pain are those
under which they will feel pleasure in the contrary things.
If therefore we ourselves with whom the decision rests are
put into an envious state of mind, and those for whom our
pity, or the award of something desirable, is claimed are such as
have been described, it is obvious that they will win no pity from us.
Part 11
We will next consider Emulation, showing in what follows its causes and objects, and the state of mind in which it is felt.
Emulation is pain caused by seeing the
presence, in persons whose nature is like our own, of good
things that are highly valued and are possible for ourselves to acquire; but it is felt not because others have these goods, but
because we have not got them ourselves. It is therefore a
good feeling felt by good persons, whereas envy is a bad
feeling felt by bad persons. Emulation makes us take steps to
secure the good things in question, envy makes us take steps
to stop our neighbour having them. Emulation must therefore tend
to be felt by persons who believe themselves to
deserve certain good things that they have not got, it being
understood that no one aspires to things which appear
impossible. It is accordingly felt by the young and by
persons of lofty disposition. Also by those who possess such good things as are deserved by men held in honour-these are wealth,
abundance of friends, public office, and the like; on the
assumption that they ought to be good men, they are emulous
to gain such goods because they ought, in their belief, to
belong to men whose state of mind is good. Also by those whom
all others think deserving. We also feel it about anything for which
our ancestors, relatives, personal friends, race, or country
are specially honoured, looking upon that thing as
really our own, and therefore feeling that we deserve to have
it. Further, since all good things that are highly honoured
are objects of emulation, moral goodness in its various forms
must be such an object, and also all those good things that are useful and serviceable to others: for men honour those who are morally
good, and also those who do them service. So with those good
things our possession of which can give enjoyment to our
neighbours-wealth and beauty rather than health. We can see,
too, what persons are the objects of the feeling. They are
those who have these and similar things-those already mentioned, as
courage, wisdom, public office. Holders of public office-generals, orators, and all who possess such powers-can do many people a good turn.
Also those whom many people wish to be like; those who have
many acquaintances or friends; those whom admire, or whom we
ourselves admire; and those who have been praised and
eulogized by poets or prose-writers. Persons of the contrary
sort are objects of contempt: for the feeling and notion of contempt are opposite to those of emulation. Those who are such as to
emulate or be emulated by others are inevitably disposed to
be contemptuous of all such persons as are subject to those
bad things which are contrary to the good things that are the
objects of emulation: despising them for just that reason.
Hence we often despise the fortunate, when luck comes to them without
their having those good things which are held in honour.
This completes our discussion of the means by which the several emotions
may be produced or dissipated, and upon which depend the persuasive arguments connected with the emotions.
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