Raphael’s Aristotle from The School of Athens, fresco, 1510-1511, Apostolic Palace, Vatican

2,729 words

Part 2 of 2, Part 1 here

Aristotle’s Defense of the Theoretical Life

Some people study mathematics, astronomy, etc. as ends in themselves, purely out of wonder or curiosity. One cannot defend such theoretical work by pointing out that it may still be useful for other aims, even if only by accident. This is to defend theory by claiming that it is really practical. To be a means to an end—even a remote, indirect, and accidental means to an end—is to be practical. This sort of defense still implies that one cannot justify theoretical pursuits that never lead, even accidentally, to practical applications. Thus, one can only justify theory as pure theory: the pursuit of knowledge (1) as an end in itself, and (2) regardless of practical consequences. To defend theory, one must defend it as “useless.”

Aristotle argues two main theses: (1) theoretical knowledge is just as possible as moral knowledge (pp. 15–16), and (2) theoretical knowledge is an end in itself (pp. 16–17). Beyond that, he argues that theoretical knowledge is superior to any other form of knowledge, and that theoretical men are superior to other kinds of men.

Theoretical Knowledge Is Possible

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Isocrates already accepts that moral knowledge is possible, thus Aristotle argues that theoretical knowledge is also possible by showing that it has the same logical structure as moral knowledge.

The analogy between the health of the body and the soul is central to Socratic ethics. Just as doctors and athletic trainers minister to the health of the body, there are “disciplines and skills” (p. 16) that minister to the health of the soul. Aristotle does not spell it out explicitly, but clearly these disciplines and skills are moral philosophy. Aristotle assumes that Isocrates is in agreement with Socrates on all these points.

Then Aristotle tries to lead Isocrates toward natural philosophy by introducing the premise that the soul is superior to the body because it exercises control over the body. This is a move from visible effects to an invisible cause.

Then Aristotle states: “Similarly for the natural sciences as well” (p. 16), i.e., just as the body is moved by the soul, which is a cause and thus superior to its effects, natural phenomena can be traced back to causes that are superior to their effects. For one thing, they are more intelligible and orderly than their effects. These principles include the ultimate elements of nature proposed by natural philosophers, such as earth, air, fire, and water—the very sorts of elements that Isocrates expressly dismissed as useless speculation in the Antidosis.

Theoretical Knowledge is Good

Having argued that natural knowledge is just as possible as moral knowledge, Aristotle then argues that knowledge of nature is just as much an excellence of the soul as moral virtue.

He begins with a common premise: “We all agree that the most virtuous man, the one whose nature is most superior, ought to rule” (p. 16). Another common premise is that the rule of the virtuous man is really the rule of law: “the law is the sole ruler in charge” (p. 16). The virtuous man’s orders are not his free creations. Instead, he is merely the executor of objective moral laws.

At this point, Aristotle begins leading Isocrates toward his position by exploring what is assumed in their common premises. If the virtuous man follows objective moral laws, isn’t this an achievement of “nous, a logos based on nous”? (p. 16). For Aristotle, logos is rational discourse, and nous is the intuitive intellect, which is for Aristotle the highest part of the soul. Thus the virtuous man, whom Isocrates believes should rule, is really the intelligent man: “what measure or what standard of good things do we have that is more accurate than the intelligent man? For whatever this man would choose are good things, if the choice is based on his knowledge, and also their opposites are bad” (pp. 16–17).

Having established that the intelligent man is the best, Aristotle places intelligence in the larger context of his ideas about self-actualization and virtue. For Aristotle, the good life involves the actualization of our best traits. Aristotle assumes that Isocrates would grant this in the case of the moral virtues, so here he extends that argument to the intellectual virtues as well:

. . . since everybody chooses most of all what conforms to their own proper dispositions (a just man choosing to live justly, a brave man to live bravely, likewise a self-controlled man to be self-controlled [these are all moral virtues]), it is also clear that the intelligent man will choose most of all to be intelligent; for this is the function of that capability. Hence it’s evident that, according to the judgment most in charge, intelligence is the most superior of good things. (p. 17)

Here Aristotle is claiming that different types of men choose to exercise their innate dispositions simply as ends in themselves. Virtuous men choose virtuous deeds not just because they are useful but because they enjoy simply being themselves. This is true of intelligent men as well.

This is the conclusion of Aristotle’s response to Isocrates (and Socrates behind him). Aristotle agrees with both men that we are all seeking the good life. He also agrees that the good life requires the right use of all things. This is an inherently practical and moral conception of wisdom. Aristotle can even grant that purely theoretical knowledge is not instrumentally useful to pursuing the good life. But not all goods are instrumental to the good life. Some goods are simply parts of the good life. Intellectual excellence is an end in itself.

Thus Aristotle wraps up his critique of Isocrates with an exhortation to study philosophy: “So one ought not to flee from philosophy, if indeed philosophy is, just as we think it is, both a possession and a use of wisdom, and wisdom is among the greatest goods” (p. 17).

At this point, we are only a third of a way into what remains of the Protrepticus. (Since an unknown portion is missing at the beginning, we are likely close to the center of the text.) What comes next?

Right away, Aristotle offers an apparent throw-away argument that theoretical philosophy is actually easy to learn (pp. 17–18). This is probably in response to Isocrates’ claim that such learning is a waste of time for practical men. Much later, Aristotle argues, contra Isocrates, that theoretical philosophy is useful for statesmanship and offers a critique of Isocrates’ empirical and eclectic approach to legislation, namely, simply to imitate what works in different regimes (pp. 30–31).

The rest of the Protrepticus is devoted to dialogue between Aristotle and Heraclides on Pythagorean themes, as well as Aristotle’s speeches deepening and buttressing his argument that theoretical knowledge is an end in itself. Let’s look at some of the latter arguments.

Two Kinds of Goods

Isocrates claims that theoretical knowledge is useless for the good life, thus he does not include it in his philosophical curriculum. Aristotle, however, turns that argument on its head. The very uselessness of theoretical knowledge is what makes it so good.

Aristotle distinguishes between two kinds of goods: instrumental and intrinsic. Instrumental goods are valued primarily because they are useful for other things. Intrinsic goods are valued not for their usefulness. Thus they are “useless.” Instead, they are valued for their own sake.

Aristotle argues that not all goods can be instrumental. We value instrumental goods for what they accomplish. However, if that end is also instrumental, then it is valuable for some other purpose. If all goods derive their goodness from something else, then one will go forwards to infinity, seeking justification. But that just means that no goods are actually justified. The only way to justify instrumental goods is by appeal to some final good that is good in and of itself: “for this [good] is not valuable because of that [good], and that [good] for the sake of something else, nor does this [chain of justification] get lost in going forward to infinity—rather, this [justification] comes to a halt at some point” (p. 29.).

But one cannot argue that pure theoretical knowledge is valuable in and of itself simply because it has no use. After all, some useless things might lack any intrinsic merit as well. Granted, all intrinsic goods are useless, but that hardly implies that every useless thing is intrinsically good. Aristotle obviously needs an additional argument to establish that theoretical knowledge is good in the first place before he can classify it as intrinsically good.

Pure Theory as Naturally Good

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Aristotle holds that goods are goals: the goals of natural processes and human actions. These processes are the actualization of innate potentialities, but not just any potentiality. A tree, for instance, is potential firewood, but that is not the good of the tree. The good of a tree is its growth and flourishing, the actualization of its best potentialities. Likewise, the human good is the actualization of our best potentialities. Human beings are complex. We have bodies and souls, each with its own excellences, and our souls have multiple parts and faculties, with excellences of their own.

Aristotle argues that the highest human faculty is nous, the intuitive intellect, based on the fact that goods develop over time, and nous develops later than our other faculties, therefore, it is our best faculty. Indeed, the purpose of our life seems to be to exercise our intellects:

if in everything the end result is always better (for everything that comes to be comes to be for the sake of the end result, and what is for the sake of something is better, indeed best of all), and the natural end is the one that is last to be achieved in accordance with the generation that has grown when the development is completed without interruption, thus the first human parts to get to their end stage are the bodily ones, and later the parts of the soul, and the end stage of the better part somehow always comes later than its generation.

Thus the soul is later than the body, and intelligence is the final stage of the soul, for we see that it is the last thing to come to be by nature in humans, and that is why old age lays claim to this alone of good things; so a certain intelligence is our natural end, and being intelligent is ultimately the end for the sake of which we have come to be. Thus if we have come to be, it’s also clear that we exist for the sake of being intelligent and learning something. (pp. 28–29)

If intelligence is the purpose of human life, then intelligence is good. Since intelligence is good, but not instrumentally good, it must be intrinsically good—although Aristotle adds that everything practical is better when performed intelligently as well.

Aristotle even argues that, since the soul animates the body, and the intellect is the highest part of the soul, we are more alive when we develop our intellects (pp. 32–33). And the best way to do that is through purely theoretical pursuits.

Furthermore, Aristotle argues that since pleasure attends to the exercise of our faculties, those who develop their intellects enjoy more pleasures than other men. “Therefore living pleasurably and true enjoyment belong, either only or most of all, to the philosophers” (p. 33).

The Theoretical Life in the Nicomachean Ethics

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The themes and arguments of the Protrepticus are reprised and elaborated by Aristotle in Nicomachean Ethics, book x, chapter 7, where he argues that the life of the theorist is superior to the life of the morally virtuous man.

If happiness is activity in accordance with virtue, it is reasonable that it should be in accordance with the highest virtue; and this will be that of the best thing in us. Whether it be reason or something else that is this element which is thought to be our natural ruler and guide and to take thought of things noble and divine, whether it be itself also divine or only the most divine element in us, the activity of this in accordance with its proper virtue will be perfect happiness. That this activity is contemplative we have already said [this is likely a reference to the Protrepticus].[1]

Aristotle goes on to argue that the contemplative life is the best for the following reasons:

• In contemplation, the best part of us (reason) seeks to know the best thing in the world (the ultimate cause of everything, viz. god).
• Contemplation is more continuous than other activities.
• “That which is proper to each thing is by nature best and most pleasant for each thing; for man, therefore, the life according to reason is best and pleasantest, since reason more than anything else is man. This life therefore is also the happiest” (1178a).
• The pleasures that attend to contemplation are “marvelous for their purity and their enduringness” (1177a).
• Contemplation is also relatively self-sufficient because it requires little external equipment and can be carried out in solitude.
• Finally, the theoretical life is self-sufficient because it need aim at no good beyond itself.

Aristotle the Socratic

Aristotle has offered a philosophical argument that the contemplative life is the best life of all, better than the life of the virtuous gentleman—and, it goes without saying, better than the life of a businessman, a hedonist, or a slave. The contemplative man enjoys greater happiness and even more refined pleasures than the rest. He is even more alive than them. Aristotle is undecided, though, if the contemplative man is more human than other men, or a bit more than human, i.e., a quasi-divine being.

But has Aristotle argued that theoretical, contemplative, or speculative philosophy is better than practical or moral philosophy? To answer this question, we must note two things.

First, in Aristotle’s time, philosophy dealt with more than metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, politics, and aesthetics. It also encompassed science: not just the “philosophy of science,” but mathematics and actual scientific research. Moreover, philosophy also encompassed aspects of religion: not just the “philosophy of religion” or “exoteric” pandering to the cults of the time, but actual contemplative practices aiming at the salvation of the soul. Scientists and mystics still seek such knowledge, but they no longer call it “wisdom,” thus they no longer call themselves philosophers. Thus Aristotle’s defense of the contemplative life is not simply a defense of theoretical philosophy but also of mathematics, science, and religious meditation.

Second, we need to take note of what kind of philosophical arguments Aristotle is offering here.

In the Protrepticus, Aristotle simply concedes the essentially Socratic moral/practical approach to philosophy advocated by Isocrates. Then he argues that the contemplative way of life is part of human happiness.

In the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle praises the superiority of the contemplative way of life at the end of his main work on ethics, just before the transition to his Politics, i.e., right in the middle of his practical philosophy.

In short, Aristotle’s entire approach here is practical. He is not defending theory as such, but the theoretical way of life. He is defending the theoretical way of life as good, i.e., as the actualization of human powers, and not just any powers, but the best powers, indeed the ruling powers.

But is the contemplative life unconditionally good? Aristotle lived at a time when people merely contemplated atoms. They did not split them. He lived at a time when robots were merely thought-experiments. He lived before religious cults became terrorist cells. If Aristotle is a Socratic, then he can defend the contemplative life only if it is used rightly for human happiness. Thus the hedonists of pure contemplation—religious and scientific—need moral oversight, lest their revels go too far, for their good and ours.

So Aristotle is not backsliding from post-Socratic practical philosophy to pre-Socratic theoretical philosophy. Instead, Aristotle is finding a place for the contemplative life—that now extends far beyond philosophy proper—within an essentially practical philosophy. Indeed, Aristotle’s defense of the contemplative life is an exercise in Socratic moral philosophy.

Note

[1] Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, trans. W. D. Ross (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1925), 1177a.