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

Aristotle’s Essence: τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι

τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι is an odd phrase, common to Aristotelian diction, used when the philosopher wishes to speak about the essence of a particular thing. Most students translate the phrase as “essence” by rote, because they have not the faintest conception on how to penetrate the meaning of this four-word hieroglyphic.

Let us begin by discussing what this construction consists of at its most basic level. Fundamentally the phrase is an articular infinitive. Dr. Smyth tells us that, “The articular infinitive, while having the character of a substantive, retains the functions of a verb” (See Smyth, 2025 and following). The “character” of a substantive means that we are able to decline the infinitive as a neuter singular noun, if we place the appropriately declined definite article (τό, τοῦ, τῷ, τό) in front of it. Thus, τὸ ποιεῖν can be translated not merely as “to make,” but also as “making.” With this in mind, τὸ εἶναι, is “to be” or “being,” often simplified by most translators to “essence.”

This leaves us with the two inner terms, τί ἦν. First let us look at the imperfect ἦν. In Smyth 1901-1902 we are told that the imperfect can be used for the present tense. Liddell and Scott (εἰμί F. bottom of entry) inform us that ἦν is sometimes used as the present, corroborating the account given by Smyth. Liddell and Scott also make mention of Aristotle’s exact phrase, remarking that, “τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι expresses the essential nature of a thing.” Thus the ἦν is actually an ἐστί, at least for translation purposes.

The LSJ entry is further helpful in determining the meaning of τί ἦν as a two-word phrase. It points out that τί ἦν, in the phrase τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι, takes the place of a very similar articular infinitive, but with a dative phrase, such as τὸ ἀγαθῷ εἶναι, which can be seen in Prior Analytics 67b12 and De Anima 429b10. τί ἦν is therefore really (τῷ) τί ἦν. τί, of course, is the interrogative pronoun, “what.” The phrase τί ἦν means, “what is it?” or as an indirect interrogative, which it could also be, “what it is.”

Putting it all together in a different order we have, τὸ εἶναι “being,” (τῷ) τί ἦν “for what is it?” or as an indirect interrogative, “for what it is.” Very often when there is a dative with a verb like εἰμί, it is construed as a dative of possession, which can be translated as a genitive. We could translate τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι as, “The essence/being of what it is.” The mystery of the phrase is solved. We are nevertheless saddled with an uncharacteristically unwieldy phrase to describe a common Greek philosophical term.

Perception Between Sleep & Waking

First of all, this is obvious, that waking and sleep belong to the same part of the animal. For they are opposites and sleep appears to be a kind of privation of sleep. For opposites always, both in natural cases and otherwise, happen in the same receptive part, and are affections of the same thing. I mean, for example, health and sickness, beauty and homeliness, strength and weakness, seeing and blindness, and hearing and deafness. And yet also it is obvious from these. For by whatever means we distinguish an awake man, by this same means we distinguish a sleeping man. For we consider a a man who is perceiving to be awake, and every one who is awake either perceives something outside himself or motions in himself. If therefore, waking is in nothing other than perceiving, it is obvious that by the same means there is perception, by this same means both waking things are awake and sleeping things sleep. On Sleep and Waking 453b25-454a7

On Sleep and Waking is a small treatise by Aristotle. The starting point of the philosopher’s inquiry is, as good Aristotelian precedent would often tell us, to begin with what is obvious. Waking and sleep are opposites, because sleep is a lack of waking. Presumably, waking could also be described as a lack of sleep, as every insomniac well knows. In general, that is, in every case, opposites occur in the same faculty, with Aristotle providing examples of health and sickness (the faculty of the body) and hearing and deafness (the faculty of the ear). Since we already know that sleeping and waking are opposites, we have merely to determine in which faculty or place they share their common origin. The perceptive ability is this shared “location” when it comes to waking and sleeping. Waking then, is the use or disuse of the perceptive faculty. We will have to wait, when it comes to defining dreams (in his On Dreams), how Aristotle is able to come up with a definition which avoids overlap between the meaning of waking which I just gave, and dreaming.