Category Archives: Ethics

Old Age and Justice in the Republic

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Near the beginning of the Politics Aristotle says that the young should not study politics, for they have not yet acquired the experience requisite for such a science.  Perhaps a similar concern, free of prohibition, offers Plato a reason to introduce the character of Cephalus at the beginning of the Republic.

Cephalus, as it turns out, is a very old man.(1)  Socrates tells us that he is very eager to speak to the aged, because all have to travel down the path of old age, and he wants to know “what kind of road it is, rough and difficult, or easy and passable.”(2)  Plato uses Cephalus, as seems plain from his hasty exit, for a characteristically dramatic and philosophical purpose.  Cephalus himself elaborates on the topic of old age, eagerly opining to a rare audience, Socrates, that although the carousing long nights of youth are no longer possible, gone also is the despotism of sexual desire.  More importantly, he mentions that though wealth is a palliative in old age, character is more important.(3)  More somberly, Cephalus continues on to admit that of late he has been haunted by the fear of his life after death— the hand of death is beginning to point at him.  “The tales told concerning those in Hades, how it is necessary that those who have been unjust must pay the penalty there, although entirely laughable up to this point, at that point [of encroaching mortality] they harrow his soul that they may be true.” (4)

Cephalus emphasizes however, that just deeds, stored and accumulated throughout a life, are a sweet hope to the man in old age that he will escape such horrors.  It is from Cephalus then, by the exortation of old age, the idea that a complete life must be lived justly in order to reap the easy conscience of old age, and that character, informed by the requirements of justice may allow a soul to pass into the blessed afterworld, that the great themes of justice and morality are introduced into the dialogue.  Far from being an abstract treatise, Plato foresees for us a path that all must take, that of a burdensome or light old age, and gives us no determination of the fate of Cephalus, but bids us examine our own.

 

REFERENCES:

Translations mine.

  1. 328b9 μάλα πρεσβύτης
  2. 328e3-4 ποία τίς ἐστιν, τραχεῖα καὶ χαλεπή,
    ἢ ῥᾳδία καὶ εὔπορος.
  3. 329d3 ὁ τρόπος
  4. 330d7-e2 οἵ τε γὰρ λεγόμενοι μῦθοι περὶ
    τῶν ἐν Ἅιδου, ὡς τὸν ἐνθάδε ἀδικήσαντα δεῖ ἐκεῖ διδόναι δίκην, καταγελώμενοι τέως, τότε δὴ στρέφουσιν αὐτοῦ τὴν ψυχὴν μὴ ἀληθεῖς ὦσιν·

Bodily Reverence in the Hippocratic Oath

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More recently the study of ancient medicine has gained attention, not from merely antiquarian curiosity about the developmental history of the healing arts, but from its illumination on kindred concepts arising in and influenced especially by philosophy and science, yet also inclusive of the wider Mediterranean culture.  Of particular interest to me today is the Hippocratic Oath, which many believe to apply to a small group of practicing medics due to the parochial constraints it imposes on its adherents, thus necessarily limiting the scope of its practice.  However, let’s take a look at this document in full:

I swear by Apollo the healer, by Asclepius, by Health (Hygeia), and Panacea and by all the gods and goddesses, making them witnesses, to bring to completion this oath and written contract in accordance with my ability and judgment:

To revere the man who taught me this art as equally as my ancestors, and to share my living with him, and to share with him when he lacks money, and to esteem his progeny equally as my brothers, and to teach this art, if they wish to learn it, without a wage or written contract, and to share the precepts and lectures and all other instructions both with my own sons and those of the one who taught me, and to no one else.

And I shall make use of a regimen for the help of patients in accordance with my ability and judgment, but not to act for injury or a wrongful act.  And I shall not give a deadly drug to anyone, though he ask for it, nor will I offer up such counsel.  In a like manner, I shall not give any abortifacent (lit. destructive pessary) to a woman.  But I shall observe my life and my art in a holy and reverent manner.  I shall not cut even one suffering from the stone, but I shall give way to the practitioners of this deed (i.e. surgeons). As many houses as I enter into I shall proceed for the benefit of the patients, standing afar from every willing and destructive harm, and especially from sexual acts with both female bodies and male, free and slave alike.  Whichever things I hear or see in my practice or outside my practice in the course of daily life, things which are unnecessary to ever blurt out, I shall consider such things unspeakable.  If I complete this oath, and do not violate it, may there be a gain of reputation because of my life and art from all men forever.  But if I transgress and forswear, may there be the opposite (Translation mine, Hippocratic Oath). [1]

I want to draw out a plausible interpretation as to the theoretical guidance of this oath, sworn to not only the four physician gods, but of such gravity that all the gods and goddesses are invoked as witness.  My idea is that a reverence for the body guided this guild (for this seems an apt description for this dedicated association) in all its interactions with patients.  There may have been some religious motivation for this precept or more likely, it was merely a central, refining filter through which medical practices could be easily guided instead of the alternative of detailed and cumbersome rules, such as the nitpicking “best practices” I imagine hinders modern day medical ethics.

Here are some examples that make me suspect a cult of the body.  Now of course, just as today, the physician is sworn not to give any poison to a man, and “in a like manner” (ὁμοίως) he is also not to give an abortifacent to any woman.  The “in a like manner” is intriguing because, if we are to draw an analogy, in the first instance it is the man’s body that is injured by being drugged.  Thus, in the second instance, we may infer that the woman’s body is injured by being drugged by the abortifacent. [2]  Also of note then, is that the preservation of the child is not primarily in view.  More intriguing is the proscription on surgery, telling physicians that they cannot “cut” even if the patient is suffering from stones, one of the most painful maladies. [3]  The patient must be given a referral instead.  It is tempting to think that a ban on cutting is due to an overzealous adherence to preserve or improve not the state of the patient’s health, but rather to have the physician impose even a temporary harm for a greater long-term good.  Alternatively, though, given the last line of the oath, perhaps we can consider that the physician has his good reputation in mind, and that if word gets around that he “cuts” people, even for the better, patients will be hesitant to visit him.  One need only reflect on how skittish moderns are towards doctor visits, even with drugs, anesthesia and centuries of knowledge.  Lastly consider the strange wording of the prohibition on sleeping with patients: abstain “especially from sexual acts with both female bodies and male, free and slave alike.”  This is the literal translation, it is does not say abstain from females and males, but female and male bodies  (γυναικείων σωμάτων καὶ ἀνδρῴων).  The relationship of patient and doctor requires and must respect the solemn vulnerability of the nude body, and what better way to further this than with a principled, philosophical reverence for the body?

 

REFERENCES:

[1] Ὄμνυμι Ἀπόλλωνα ἰητρὸν καὶ Ἀσκληπιὸν καὶ Ὑγείαν καὶ Πανάκειαν καὶ θεοὺς πάντας τε καὶ πάσας, ἵστορας ποιεύμενος, ἐπιτελέα ποιήσειν κατὰ δύναμιν καὶ κρίσιν ἐμὴν ὅρκον τόνδε καὶ συγγραφὴν τήνδε· ἡγήσεσθαι μὲν τὸν διδάξαντά με τὴν τέχνην ταύτην ἴσα γενέτῃσιν ἐμοῖς, καὶ βίου κοινώσεσθαι, καὶ χρεῶν χρηΐζοντι μετάδοσιν ποιήσεσθαι, καὶ γένος τὸ ἐξ αὐτοῦ ἀδελφοῖς ἴσον ἐπικρινεῖν ἄρρεσι, καὶ διδάξειν
10 τὴν τέχνην ταύτην, ἢν χρηΐζωσι μανθάνειν, ἄνευ μισθοῦ καὶ συγγραφῆς, παραγγελίης τε καὶ ἀκροήσιος καὶ τῆς λοίπης ἁπάσης μαθήσιος μετάδοσιν ποιήσεσθαι υἱοῖς τε ἐμοῖς καὶ τοῖς τοῦ ἐμὲ διδάξαντος, καὶ μαθητῇσι συγγεγραμμένοις τε καὶ ὡρκισμένοις νόμῳ ἰητρικῷ, ἄλλῳ δὲ οὐδενί. διαιτήμασί τε χρήσομαι ἐπ᾿ ὠφελείῃ καμνόντων κατὰ δύναμιν καὶ κρίσιν ἐμήν, ἐπὶ δηλήσει δὲ καὶ ἀδικίῃ εἴρξειν. οὐ δώσω δὲ οὐδὲ φάρμακον οὐδενὶ αἰτηθεὶς θανάσιμον, οὐδὲ ὑφηγήσομαι συμβουλίην
20 τοιήνδε· ὁμοίως δὲ οὐδὲ γυναικὶ πεσσὸν φθόριον δώσω. ἁγνῶς δὲ καὶ ὁσίως διατηρήσω βίον τὸν ἐμὸν καὶ τέχνην τὴν ἐμήν. οὐ τεμέω δὲ οὐδὲ μὴν λιθιῶντας, ἐκχωρήσω δὲ ἐργάτῃσιν ἀνδράσι πρήξιος τῆσδε. ἐς οἰκίας δὲ ὁκόσας ἂν ἐσίω, ἐσελεύσομαι ἐπ᾿ ὠφελείῃ καμνόντων, ἐκτὸς ἐὼν πάσης ἀδικίης ἑκουσίης καὶ φθορίης, τῆς τε ἄλλης καὶ ἀφροδισίων ἔργων ἐπί τε γυναικείων σωμάτων καὶ ἀνδρῴων, ἐλευθέρων τε καὶ δούλων. ἃ δ᾿ ἂν ἐν θεραπείῃ ἢ ἴδω ἢ ἀκούσω, ἢ καὶ ἄνευ
30 θεραπείης κατὰ βίον ἀνθρώπων, ἃ μὴ χρή ποτε ἐκλαλεῖσθαι ἔξω, σιγήσομαι, ἄρρητα ἡγεύμενος εἶναι τὰ τοιαῦτα. ὅρκον μὲν οὖν μοι τόνδε ἐπιτελέα ποιέοντι, καὶ μὴ συγχέοντι, εἴη ἐπαύρασθαι καὶ βίου καὶ τέχνης δοξαζομένῳ παρὰ πᾶσιν ἀνθρώποις ἐς τὸν αἰεὶ χρόνον· παραβαίνοντι δὲ
36 καὶ ἐπιορκέοντι, τἀναντία τούτων.

[2] One source (definitely Oxford University Press) I read, though I can not find it now, claimed that only 1 in 10 women survived an abortion.

[3] Aulus Cornelius Celsus (c. 25 BC – c. 50 AD) divided medicine into precisely three areas: dietetic, pharmacology and surgery.  This division is believed to extend much further back into antiquity however.

Aristotle: Measuring Virtue by Pleasure

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Aristotle’s Rhetoric is thought by many to be among his most polished works, yet it still can be a dry read for the technical jargon and lengthy list-like discussions found within it.  It also has, at least in part because of the poor, sophistical reputation that rhetoric, as a field, has acquired for itself, suffered a philosophical fate worse than it probably should have.

Nevertheless, because of the daunting enormity of the task in becoming virtuous according to Aristotelian rigor, in that one must possess all of the virtues and be virtuous in such a way that a given action is expressed spontaneously as a reflection of a developed character, I have begun to wonder if there is way to measure progress toward that goal.

One possibility occurred to me as I was reading the Rhetoric on the topic of pleasure.  Aristotle says, in enumerating the things that are pleasurable, that:

For the habitual [is pleasurable] as if it has already become to be by nature.  And a habit of a certain kind is like nature, for often is similar to always, and nature pertains to the always, while the habitual pertains to the often.  Furthermore the non-compulsory [is pleasurable] (Rhetoric, 1370a6-10). [1]

One notion that is assumed in this discussion is that the natural is pleasurable,[2] as can be inferred from this passage, but also from Aristotle’s remark that the non-compulsory is pleasurable.  Presumably then, the compulsory is not-pleasurable, nor natural, while the non-compulsory is natural, or can approach being natural (which always happens) by occurring “often” even if not “always.”

Thus for one practicing the Aristotelian virtues, a very pertinent question to ask oneself in  making ethical progress is whether or not you are experiencing pleasure while doing it.  If, during given instances of practicing character or intellectual virtues, you feel no pleasure, you have probably not achieved the ideal of virtue in that sphere.  Do you feel no spark of joy while performing what you know to be a just action?  Do you have no pleasure when an act of courage is called for?  Are you not pleased when acting prudently, and in general, avoiding the extremes of ethical endeavors, as opposed to the mean? Then it is perhaps necessary to re-evaluate the status of your ethical condition in general and in particulars.

 

REFERENCES:
[1] καὶ γὰρ τὸ εἰθισμένον ὥσπερ πεφυκὸς ἤδη γίγνεται·
ὅμοιον γάρ τι τὸ ἔθος τῇ φύσει· ἐγγὺς γὰρ καὶ τὸ πολλάκις
τῷ ἀεί, ἔστιν δ’ ἡ μὲν φύσις τοῦ ἀεί, τὸ δὲ ἔθος τοῦ πολ-
λάκις καὶ τὸ μὴ βίαιον (παρὰ φύσιν γὰρ ἡ βία, διὸ τὸ
ἀναγκαῖον λυπηρόν…

[2] Perhaps a contentious notion.  Also worth noting here is that although Aristotle will later deny that pleasure is a motion (NE 10.4.2), as he takes it to be here, I think this not relevant to the point I am making .