by Aristotle
Such, then, is the completion of our distinction of the voluntary and the involuntary.
10 · Let us next speak about choice, first raising various difficulties about it. For one might doubt to what genus it belongs and in which to place it, and whether [20] the voluntary and the chosen are or are not the same. Now some insist that choice is either opinion or desire, and the inquirer might well think that it is one or the other, for both are found accompanying it. Now that it is not desire is plain; for then it would be either wish, appetite, or anger, for none desires without having experienced [25] one of these feelings. But anger and appetite belong also to the brutes while choice does not; further, even those who are capable of both the former often choose without either anger or appetite; and when they are under the influence of those passions they do not choose but remain unmoved by them. Further, anger and [30] appetite always involve pain, but we often choose without pain. But neither are wish and choice the same; for we often wish for what we know is impossible, e.g. to rule all mankind or to be immortal, but no one chooses such things unless ignorant of the impossibility, nor does he even choose what is possible, generally, if he does not [35] think it in his power to do or to abstain from doing it. So that this is clear, that the object of choice must be one of the things in our own power. Similarly, choice is not an opinion nor, generally, what one thinks; for the object of choice was something in [1226a1] one’s power and many things may be thought that are not in our power, e.g. that the diagonal is commensurable. Further, choice is not either true or false. Nor yet is choice identical with our opinion about matters of practice which are in our own [5] power, as when we think that we ought to do or not to do something. This argument applies to wish as well as to opinion; for no one chooses an end, but things that contribute to an end, e.g. no one chooses to be in health, but to walk or to sit for the [10] purpose of keeping well; no one chooses to be happy but to make money or run risks for the purpose of being happy. And in general, in choosing we show both what we choose and for what we choose it, the latter being that for which we choose something else, the former that which we choose for something else. But it is the end that we specially wish for, and we think we ought to be healthy and happy. So that [15] it is clear through this that choice is different both from opinion and from wish; for wish and opinion pertain especially to the end, but choice does not.
It is clear, then, that choice is not wish, or opinion, or judgement simply. But in what does it differ from these? How is it related to the voluntary? The answer to [20] these questions will also make it clear what choice is. Of possible things, then, there are some such that we can deliberate about them, while about others we cannot. For some things are possible, but the production of them is not in our power, some being [25] due to nature, others to other causes; and about these none would attempt to deliberate except in ignorance. But about others, not only existence and nonexistence is possible, but also human deliberation;25 these are things the doing or not doing of which is in our own power. Therefore, we do not deliberate about the affairs of the Indians nor how the circle may be squared; for the first are not in our [30] power, the second is wholly beyond the power of action; but we do not even deliberate about all things that may be done and that are in our power (by which it is clear that choice is not opinion simply), though the matters of choice and action belong to the class of things in our own power. One might then raise the [35] problem—why do doctors deliberate about matters within their science, but not grammarians? The reason is that error may occur in two ways (either in reasoning or in perception when we are engaged in the very act), and in medicine one may go wrong in both ways, but in grammar one can do so only in respect of the perception [1226b1] and action, and if they inquired about this there would be no end to their inquiries. Since then choice is26 neither opinion nor wish singly nor yet both (for no one chooses suddenly, though he thinks he ought to act, and wishes, suddenly), it must [5] be compounded of both, for both are found in a man choosing. But we must ask—how compounded out of these? The very name is some indication. For choice is not simply picking but picking one thing before another; and this is impossible without consideration and deliberation; therefore choice arises out of deliberate opinion.
[10] Now about the end no one deliberates (this being fixed for all), but about that which tends to it—whether this or that tends to it, and—supposing this or that resolved on—how it is to be brought about. All consider this till they have brought the beginning of the process to a point in their own power. If then, no one chooses [15] without some preparation, without some deliberation whether it is better or worse to do so and so, and if, of the things which contribute to an end, and which may or may not come about, we deliberate about those which are in our power, then it is clear that choice is a deliberate desire for something in one’s own power; for we all deliberate about what we choose, but we do not choose all that we deliberate about. I call it deliberate when deliberation is the source and cause of the desire, and the [20] man desires because of the deliberation. Therefore in the other animals choice does not exist, nor in man at every age or in every condition; for there is not deliberation or judgement on the ground of an act; but it is quite possible that many animals have an opinion whether a thing is to be done or not; only thinking with deliberation is impossible to them. For the deliberating part of the soul is that which observes a [25] cause of some sort; and the object of an action is one of the causes; for we call cause that owing to which a thing comes about; but the purpose of a thing’s existence or production is what we specially call its cause, e.g. of walking, the fetching of things, if this is the purpose for which one walks. Therefore, those who have no aim fixed have no inclination to deliberate. So that since, if a man of himself and not through [30] ignorance does or abstains from that which is in his power to do or abstain from, he acts or abstains voluntarily, but we do many such things without deliberation or premeditation, it follows that all that has been chosen is voluntary, but not all the voluntary is chosen, and that all that is according to choice is voluntary, but not all [35] that is voluntary is according to choice.27 And at the same time it is clear from this that those legislators define well who enact that some states of feeling are to be considered voluntary, some involuntary, and some premeditated; for if they are not thoroughly accurate, at least they approximate to the truth. But about this we will [1227a1] speak in our investigation of justice; meanwhile it is clear that choice is not simply wish or simply opinion, but opinion and desire together when following as a conclusion from deliberation. [5]
But since in deliberating one always deliberates for the sake of some end, and he who deliberates has always an aim by reference to which he judges what is expedient, no one deliberates about the end; this is the starting-point and assumption, like the assumptions in theoretical science (we have spoken about this briefly in the beginning of this work and minutely in the Analytics). Everyone’s inquiry, [10] whether made with or without art, is about what tends to the end, e.g. whether they shall go to war or not, when this is what they are deliberating about. But the cause or object will come first, e.g. wealth, pleasure, or anything else of the sort that [15] happens to be our object. For the man deliberating deliberates if he has considered, from the point of view of the end, what28 conduces to bringing the end within his [20] own action, or what he at present can do towards the object. But the object or end is always something good by nature, and men deliberate about its partial constituents, e.g. the doctor whether he is to give a drug, or the general where he is to pitch his camp. To them the absolutely best end is good. But contrary to nature and by perversion29 not the good but the apparent good is the end. And the reason is that some things cannot be used for anything but what their nature determines, e.g. sight; for one can see nothing but what is visible, nor hear anything but what is [25] audible. But science enables us to do what does not belong to that science; for the same science is not similarly related to health and disease, but naturally to the fo
rmer, contrary to nature to the latter. And similarly wish is of the good naturally, but of the bad contrary to nature, and by nature one wishes the good, but contrary [30] to nature and through perversion30 the bad as well.
But further, the corruption and perversion of a thing does not tend to anything at random but to the contrary or the intermediate between it and the contrary. For out of this province one cannot go, since error leads not to anything at random but to the contrary of truth where there is a contrary, and to that contrary which is [35] according to the appropriate science contrary. Therefore, the error and the resulting choice must deviate from the mean towards the opposite—and the opposite of the mean is excess or defect. And the cause is pleasantness or painfulness; for we are so constituted that the pleasant appears good to the soul and the more pleasant better, while the painful appears bad and the more painful worse. So that from this also it is [1227b1] clear that excellence and badness have to do with pleasures and pains; for they have to do with objects of choice, and choice has to do with the good and bad or what seems such, and pleasure and pain naturally seem such.
[5] It follows then, since moral excellence is itself a mean and wholly concerned with pleasures and pains, and badness lies in excess or defect and is concerned with the same matters as excellence, that moral excellence is a habit tending to choose the mean in relation to us in things pleasant and painful, in regard to which, [10] according as one is pleased or pained, men are said to have a definite sort of character; for one is not said to have a special sort of character merely for liking what is sweet or what is bitter.
11 · These distinctions having been made, let us say whether excellence makes the choice correct and the end right so that a man chooses for the right end, [15] or whether (as some say) it makes the reason so. But what does this is continence, for this preserves the reason. But excellence and continence differ. We must speak later about them, since those who think that excellence makes the reason right, do so for this cause—namely, that continence is of this nature and continence is one of the things we praise. Now that we have discussed preliminary questions let us state [20] our view.31 It is possible for the aim to be right, but for a man to go wrong in what contributes to that aim; and again the aim may be mistaken, while the things leading to it are right; or both may be mistaken. Does then excellence make the aim, or the things that contribute to that aim? We say the aim, because this is not [25] attained by inference or reasoning. Let us assume this as starting-point. For the doctor does not ask whether one ought to be in health or not, but whether one ought to walk or not; nor does the trainer ask whether one ought to be in good condition or not, but whether one should wrestle or not. And similarly no art asks questions about the end; for as in theoretical sciences the assumptions are our starting-points, [30] so in the productive the end is starting-point and assumed. E.g. we reason that since this body is to be made healthy, therefore so and so must be found in it if health is to be had—just as in geometry we argue, if the angles of the triangle are equal to two right angles, then so and so must be the case. The end aimed at is, then, the starting-point of our thought, the end of our thought the starting-point of action. If, then, of all correctness either reason or excellence is the cause, if reason is not the cause, then the end (but not the things contributing to it) must owe its rightness to [35] excellence. But the end is the object of the action; for all choice is of something and for the sake of some object. The object, then, is the mean, and excellence is the cause of this by choosing the object. Still choice is not of this but of the things done for the sake of this. To hit on these things—I mean what ought to be done for the sake of the object—belongs to another faculty; but of the rightness of the end of [1228a1] the choice the cause is excellence. And therefore it is from a man’s choice that we judge his character—that is from the object for the sake of which he acts, not from the act itself. Similarly, badness brings it about that we choose the opposite object. If, then, a man, having it in his power to do the honourable and abstain from the [5] base, does the opposite, it is clear that this man is not good. Hence, it follows that both excellence and badness are voluntary; for there is no necessity to do what is wicked. Therefore badness is blamable and excellence praiseworthy. For the involuntary if base or bad is not blamable, if good is not praiseworthy, but only the [10] voluntary. Further, we praise and blame all men with regard to their choice rather than their acts (though activity is more desirable than excellence), because men may do bad acts under compulsion, but no one chooses them under compulsion. Further, it is only because it is not easy to see the nature of a man’s choice that we [15] are forced to judge of his character by his acts. The activity then is more desirable, but the choice is more praiseworthy. And this both follows from our assumptions and is in agreement with the phenomena.
BOOK III
1 · That there are mean states, then, in the excellences, and that these are states of choice, and that the opposite states are vices and what these are, has been stated in its universal form. But let us take them individually and speak of them in [25] order; and first let us speak of bravery. All are practically agreed that the brave man is concerned with fears and that bravery is one of the excellences. We distinguished also in the table foolhardiness and fear as contraries; in a sense they are, indeed, opposed to one another. Clearly, then, those named after these habits [30] will be similarly opposed to one another, i.e. the coward, for he is so called from fearing more than he ought and being less confident than he ought, and the foolhardy man, who is so called for fearing less than he ought and being more confident than he ought. (Hence they have names cognate to those of the qualities, [35] e.g. ‘foolhardy’ is cognate to ‘foolhardiness’.) So that since bravery is the best habit in regard to fear and confidence, and one should be neither like the foolhardy (who are defective in one way, excessive in another) nor like the cowards (of whom the same may be said, only not about the same objects, but inversely, for they are [1228b1] defective in confidence and excessive in fear), it is clear that the middle habit between foolhardiness and cowardice is bravery, for this is the best.
The brave man seems to be in general fearless, the coward prone to fear; the [5] latter fears many things and few, great things and small, and intensely and quickly, while his opposite fears either not at all or slightly and reluctantly and seldom, and great things only. The brave man endures even what is very frightening, the coward not even what is slightly frightening. What, then, does the brave man endure? First, [10] is it the things that appear frightening to himself or to another? If the latter, his bravery would be no considerable matter. But if it is the things that he himself fears, then he must find many things frightening—frightening things32 being things that cause fear to those who find them frightening, great fear if very frightening, slight [15] fear if slightly frightening. Then it follows that the brave man feels much and serious fear; but on the contrary bravery seemed to make a man fearless, fearlessness consisting in fearing few things if any, and in fearing slightly and with reluctance. But perhaps we use ‘frightening’—like ‘pleasant’ and ‘good’—in two senses. Some things are pleasant or good absolutely, others to a particular person [20] pleasant or good—but absolutely bad and not pleasant, e.g. what is useful to the wicked or pleasant to children as such; and similarly the frightening is either absolutely such or such to a particular person. What, then, a coward as such fears is [25] not frightening to anyone or but slightly so; but what is frightening to the majority of men or to human nature, that we call absolutely frightening. But the brave man shows himself fearless towards these and endures such things, they being to him frightening in one sense but in another not—frightening to him qua man, but not frightening to him except slightly so, or not at all, qua brave. These things, however, [30] are frightening, for they are so to the majority of men. This is the reason, by the way, why the habit of the brave man is praised; his condition is analogous to that of the strong or healthy. For these are what they are, not because, i
n the case of the one, no toil, or in the case of the other, no extreme, crushes them, but because they are either unaffected absolutely or affected only to a slight extent by the things that [35] affect the many or the majority. The sick, then, and the weak and the cowardly are affected by the common affections, as well as by others, only more quickly and to a greater extent than the many, . . .33 and further, by the things that affect the many they are wholly unaffected or but slightly affected.
But it is still questioned whether anything is frightening to the brave man, [1229a1] whether he would not be incapable of fear. May we not allow him to be capable of it in the way above mentioned? For bravery consists in following reason, and reason bids one choose the noble. Therefore the man who endures the frightening from any other cause than this is either out of his wits or foolhardy; but the man who does so for the sake of the noble is alone fearless and brave. The coward, then, fears even [5] what he ought not, the foolhardy is confident even when he ought not to be; the brave man both fears and is confident when he ought to be and is in this sense a mean, for he is confident or fears as reason bids him. But reason does not bid a man to endure what is very painful or destructive unless it is noble; now the foolhardy man is confident about such things even if reason does not bid him be so, while the coward is not confident even if it does; the brave man alone is confident about them [10] only if reason bids him.