Aristotle’s Courage: A Clear and Short Explanation

Aristotle defines, defends and explains a number of virtues in the Nicomachean Ethics, invoking examples and arguments to make a case for what is his understanding of the virtue in question, taking for granted that the virtue in question is in fact a virtue and worthy of cultivation.

One such virtue, I expect, that none would object to is the virtue of courage.  And this, in fact, is the first virtue Aristotle speaks about in detail.

Now, like all virtues, the virtue of courage (andreia, literally ‘manliness’)1)ἀνδρεία deals with a mean, that is, a midpoint of moderation between two extreme points, which should both be avoided as they either involve excess or deficiency.  On the side of excess there is boldness (tharsos),2)1115a7 θάρσος while the result of a deficiency is fear (phobos).3)((φόβος))  Lastly, harkening back to the language of moderation, Aristotle says that the one who exceeds in fearlessness is rash (thrasus)4)θρᾰσύς 1115b29 while he who exceeds in fearing is a coward (deilos).5)δειλός 1115b34

In order to describe the domain in which courage is operative, Aristotle next makes the rather obvious point that we fear all bad things6)1115a10 πάντα τὰ κακά so that it is commonly said that fear is an expectation7)1115a9 προσδοκία of bad things.  However, merely not fearing fearful things is not sufficient to call someone courageous.  For example, a virtuous man should rightly fear the loss of a good reputation; it would be absurd to suggest he is not courageous because he fears the loss of his reputation.  As this example shows, the appropriateness or not, of courage in the right circumstances ought to inform us as to whether someone is actually courageous or not.

Aristotle does not, as we just said, simply bestow the title of courageous upon anyone, so long as they lack fear, no matter the situation.  Rather, he defines the courageous person thus:

The courageous man withstands and fears those things which it is necessary [to fear and withstand] and on account of the right reason, and how and when it is necessary [to fear or withstand] them, and likewise in the case of being bold (1116b17-19)8)ὁ μὲν οὖν ἃ δεῖ καὶ οὗ ἕνεκα ὑπομένων καὶ φοβούμενος, καὶ ὡς δεῖ καὶ ὅτε, ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ θαρρῶν, ἀνδρεῖος·

This passage illuminates several points.  The most obvious is that the man of courage acts courageously in a qualified way: at the right time, in the right manner, with the right motivation, etc.  This is why Aristotle also says that those who do not fear being poor (i.e. they waste their money) are not courageous and those who commit suicide to escape certain things are behaving cowardly (1116a13).  This passage also tells us the courageous man is both fearful AND bold, but he is such in the right time, right manner, for the right reason. This right reason, or the correct motivation, as Aristotle repeats or implies several times,9)see also: 1116a15, 1116b3, 1117b20 is that courageous acts are conducted with an eye on the correct purpose, or what is commonly translated as the “final cause.”10)οὗ ἕνεκα  As he helpfully tells us at 1115b, the purpose for which courageous acts are done is the “fine” or “noble” (kalon).11)καλόν  Aristotle, at this point, does not explain the fine sufficiently, but he does offer this up to reinforce its centrality, “Indeed, on account of the fine the courageous man withstands and does what he does in accordance with courage.”12)καλοῦ δὴ ἕνεκα ὁ ἀνδρεῖος ὑπομένει καὶ πράττει τὰ κατὰ τὴν ἀνδρείαν.

Perhaps to better understand Aristotle’s conception of the fine as it relates to the courageous, we should look to the paradigmatic case of courage.  For Aristotle, as for many of us, the soldier in battle is the best example of courage.  He gives us a couple of reasons to believe this is so.  The first is that death, of all things, is the most frightening.13)1115a26  Yet, it is not just any kind of death, but death in war, for this is the finest.14)Strongly implied, as the answer to the question, “Is it in the finest?” (1115a29-30)  What this shows is that courage is shown best in situations in which “there is a fight” (1115b4).15)ἀλκή  The fact also, Aristotle thinks, that we most publicly honor those who either die in battle or successfully overcome the enemy, is a proof that this is the highest type of courage.  In light of this, he also notes that courage has more to do with fearful things than bold things, although of course it involves both.  What he means is that we praise the courageous man because he is able to withstand the painful and not because he restrains himself from the pleasurable, for the first is more difficult.

 

 

References   [ + ]

1. ἀνδρεία
2. 1115a7 θάρσος
3. ((φόβος))
4. θρᾰσύς 1115b29
5. δειλός 1115b34
6. 1115a10 πάντα τὰ κακά
7. 1115a9 προσδοκία
8. ὁ μὲν οὖν ἃ δεῖ καὶ οὗ ἕνεκα ὑπομένων καὶ φοβούμενος, καὶ ὡς δεῖ καὶ ὅτε, ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ θαρρῶν, ἀνδρεῖος·
9. see also: 1116a15, 1116b3, 1117b20
10. οὗ ἕνεκα
11. καλόν
12. καλοῦ δὴ ἕνεκα ὁ ἀνδρεῖος ὑπομένει καὶ πράττει τὰ κατὰ τὴν ἀνδρείαν.
13. 1115a26
14. Strongly implied, as the answer to the question, “Is it in the finest?” (1115a29-30)
15. ἀλκή

You are Always Changing, Death is but Another Change

The time of a human life is a point; its essence flows away, its perception is dim, the assemblage of the whole body is quick to decay, the soul is a roundabout, fortune is hard to interpret, fame is uncertain. To speak to someone who understands, all the things of the body are a river, while all the things of the soul are a dream and a delusion. Life is a war and the dwelling place of a sojourner, posthumous fame is oblivion. What, therefore, is able to be an escort [in life]? The one and only thing is philosophy. And philosophy is this, to preserve the god inside of us to be free of violence and unharmed, to be greater than pleasures and pains, doing nothing vainly or dishonestly or with hypocrisy, not being at a loss to do anything or not do anything. And yet it still accepts the things that come about and are portioned out, since they come from that same place where it came. And in general philosophy is accepting death with a gracious understanding, as nothing other than a dissolution of the elements from which each living creature is composed. And yet if there is nothing terrible in the elements themselves wherein each thing changes continuously into another thing, why would someone mistrust the change and dissolution of everything? For it is in accordance with nature. And there is nothing evil in accordance with nature. 1
Meditations II.17

This is the last chapter of Book 2. Marcus, as he does continuously, is mindful and considerate of his own mortality, pondering fate not as an emotional spur so as to accomplish great deeds, but with an eye toward rationally digesting what personal death means within the scope of nature and the divine order. We would unfairly burden Marcus if we were to require of him a level of clarity which cannot be expected of a work aimed for personal reflection, so instead I approach the Meditations as a work which often needs its thoughts and arguments to be drawn out. This is one such section.

Far from being dour, as the stereotype of a frowning Stoic might allow us to infer, Marcus, although he begins by listing off the shortcomings of our human mortality, is in actuality laying out the case for the radical change we are constantly undergoing in our lives already. Even when a human is living, he is only a point (στιγμή), a thing both definite and small. The soul is often considered by the common person, no doubt because of its perceived persistence, as the element which truly constitutes the self. Yet even the soul, in Marcus’ words, is transient. It is called a ῥόμβος, meaning either a magic wheel or a whirling motion. Clearly motion is the emphasis, so I have translated it as roundabout.

The one constant thing in our lives, if we are fortune enough to have cultivated it, is philosophy. The job of philosophy is to cultivate our inner self to be morally pure and personally disciplined. This undertaking, however, is not to be done outside of or independent of the fated events which are doled out by the universe. In fact, Marcus tells us, philosophy is especially purposeful towards the goal of receiving death, perhaps the most disturbing of our fated events, with a glad heart (ἵλεῳ τῇ γνώμῃ). The gleeful acceptance of our death reflects a philosophically resigned mind.

As Marcus established the transience of both the body and soul, he points out that they are both made out of the same stuff as everything else in the universe. Since we are not disturbed at the constant flux of our constitutive elements as we live, we should not be alarmed at the final dissolution of the elements which make ourselves, as both bodies and souls.

1 Τοῦ ἀνθρωπίνου βίου ὁ μὲν χρόνος στιγμή, ἡ δὲ οὐσία ῥέουσα, ἡ δὲ αἴσθησις ἀμυδρά, ἡ δὲ ὅλου τοῦ σώματος σύγκρισις εὔσηπτος, ἡ δὲ ψυχὴ ῥόμβος, ἡ δὲ τύχη δυστέκμαρτον, ἡ δὲ φήμη ἄκριτον: συνελόντι δὲ εἰπεῖν, πάντα τὰ μὲν τοῦ σώματος ποταμός, τὰ δὲ τῆς ψυχῆς ὄνειρος καὶ τῦφος, ὁ δὲ βίος πόλεμος καὶ ξένου ἐπιδημία, [2] ἡ δὲ ὑστεροφημία λήθη. τί οὖν τὸ παραπέμψαι δυνάμενον; ἓν καὶ μόνον φιλοσοφία: τοῦτο δὲ ἐν τῷ τηρεῖν τὸν ἔνδον δαίμονα ἀνύβριστον καὶ ἀσινῆ, ἡδονῶν καὶ πόνων κρείσσονα, μηδὲν εἰκῇ ποιοῦντα μηδὲ διεψευσμένως καὶ μεθ̓ ὑποκρίσεως, ἀνενδεῆ τοῦ ἄλλον ποιῆσαί τι ἢ μὴ ποιῆσαι: ἔτι δὲ τὰ συμβαίνοντα καὶ ἀπονεμόμενα δεχόμενον ὡς ἐκεῖθέν ποθεν ἐρχόμενα, ὅθεν αὐτὸς ἦλθεν: ἐπὶ πᾶσι δὲ τὸν θάνατον ἵλεῳ τῇ γνώμῃ περιμένοντα ὡς οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἢ λύσιν τῶν στοιχείων, ἐξ ὧν ἕκαστον ζῷον συγκρίνεται. εἰ δὲ αὐτοῖς τοῖς στοιχείοις μηδὲν δεινὸν ἐν τῷ ἕκαστον διηνεκῶς εἰς ἕτερον μεταβάλλειν, διὰ τί ὑπίδηταί τις τὴν πάντων μεταβολὴν καὶ διάλυσιν; κατὰ φύσιν γάρ: οὐδὲν δὲ κακὸν κατὰ φύσιν. Τὰ ἐν Καρνούντῳ.

The Four Predicables: Genus

A genus is that which is predicated of many things that also differ in their form with respect to their essence. As many things as he who defines appropriately, “What is the thing?,” sitting before him after he has been asked, such things are said to be predicated in their essence. Just as, in the case of “human,” someone appropriately responds that what lies before him is an animal. Connected with the genus as well is whether a thing is in a genus that is the same as another thing or different from another thing. For such a thing falls under a method the same as genus. For having said that “animal” is the genus of human, and likewise the genus of cow, we shall have said that they are in the same genus. But if we shall prove that it is the genus of one, but it is not the genus of the other, we shall have proved that these are not in the same genus. Topica 102a32-102b3

A genus differs in its form, in that essentially, a horse is different from a dog, yet both are nevertheless part of the same genus. Genus is a level of categorization or class somewhat above the direct level of what we might term species, or in the language of Aristotle, things which differ essentially in their form. A cow or ox (βους) is the same genus as a mouse, though both are essentially different. Interestingly, Aristotle seems to describe a method which ascribes a particular genus to a thing quite independent of whether or not another thing shares the same genus. He says both that, “connected with the genus,” is the question of whether a thing is in the same genus as another thing, and also that, “having said that ‘animal’ is the genus of human, and likewise the genus of cow, we shall have said that they are in the same genus.” The impression given is that these twin assessments of two distinct things are conducted separately, and upon reflection, when it turns out man and cow are both “animal,” then we sweep them into the “same genus.” In my view though, it would appear that a comparison is made from the outset, that one is consciously aware of comparing one thing to another, rather than as an independent assessment. Perhaps this is what Aristotle means. For instance he may be pointing out what is rather obvious, but he states the obvious nonetheless, with the goal of prompting us to have an eye on whether something is of the same genus as another thing. The last sentence in this section seems to support this view, as there is language of proof. Thus, whether or not something is of one genus or another, is helpful in proposing or refuting an argument, one of the chief reason the Topica was written. 2

1 Γένος δ’ ἐστὶ τὸ κατὰ πλειόνων καὶ διαφερόντων τῷ
εἴδει ἐν τῷ τί ἐστι κατηγορούμενον. ἐν τῷ τί ἐστι δὲ κατηγο-
ρεῖσθαι τὰ τοιαῦτα λεγέσθω ὅσα ἁρμόττει ἀποδοῦναι ἐρω-
τηθέντα τί ἐστι τὸ προκείμενον· καθάπερ ἐπὶ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου
ἁρμόττει, ἐρωτηθέντα τί ἐστιν, εἰπεῖν ὅτι ζῷον. γενικὸν δὲ (35)
καὶ τὸ πότερον ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ γένει ἄλλο ἄλλῳ ἢ ἐν ἑτέρῳ·
καὶ γὰρ τὸ τοιοῦτον ὑπὸ τὴν αὐτὴν μέθοδον πίπτει τῷ γένει.
διαλεχθέντες γὰρ ὅτι τὸ ζῷον γένος τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, ὁμοίως
δὲ καὶ τοῦ βοός, διειλεγμένοι ἐσόμεθα ὅτι ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ
(102b.) γένει· ἐὰν δὲ τοῦ μὲν ἑτέρου δείξωμεν ὅτι γένος ἐστί, τοῦ
δὲ ἑτέρου ὅτι οὐκ ἔστι, διειλεγμένοι ἐσόμεθα ὅτι οὐκ ἐν τῷ
αὐτῷ γένει ταῦτ’ ἐστίν.

2 See 101a25: The three uses of the treatise are for mental training, conversations and philosophical knowledge/science.