Kraut (2006) How to Justify Ethical Propositions: Aristotle’s Method (1)

Kraut R. (2006) How to Justify Ethical Propositions: Aristotle’s Method. In: The Blackwell Guide to Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics. Edited by Richard Kraut. Oxford: Blackwell.

 

1. The Nature of Aristotelian Justification

Aristotle and his audience seek not only first-order truths about practical matters, but also a second-order account of how first-order ethical propositions are to be justified.

Justification...is an attempt to find common ground with a real or imagined intellectual opponent, and to derive the proposition whose justification is in question from that real or hypothetical consensus. Whether or not someone else is actually convinced by the justification one constructs, the person who possesses such an argument can reasonably say that the selected target audience ought to be convinced because anyone who starts from the common core of accepted beliefs ought to arrive at the disputed conclusion one is attempting to prove.

But Aristotle is not seeking that kind of justification for his ethical theory. What he looks for, instead, is a way we can assure ourselves (not someone who might or does disagree with us) that whatever changes we make in our practical beliefs, as a result of inquiry, are changes for the better. Ethical inquiry is an attempt to become wiser about practical matters, not to convince a real or hypothetical opponent. It is part of one’s own intellectual and moral development, not an attempt to convince a hypothetical skeptic or to bring it about that more people think and act as one does.

 

2. The Endoxa

One should, as one does in other cases, set out what seems to be the case [ta phainomena] and, by first going through the puzzles [diaporesantes], in this way prove, first and foremost, all of the reputable opinions [endoxa] about these ways of being affected [that is, about akrasia and other conditions of the soul], but if not all, then most, and the most authoritative; for if the difficulties are solved and the reputable opinions [endoxa] remain, adequate proof has been given. (VII.1.1145b2–7)

우리는, 다른 경우에서처럼, 그러한 것처럼 보이는 것 [ta phainomena]을 설정하고, 먼저 문제들을 검토한 후 [diaporesantes] , 이러한 방식으로 영향을 받은 상태들에 대한 모든 평판 있는 의견들[endoxa]을 증명하는 것을 최우선으로 여겨야 한다. 그러나 모든 것을 증명할 수 없다면, 대부분의 것과 가장 권위있는 것을 증명해야 한다. 왜냐하면 만약 어려움들이 해결되고 평판 있는 의견들이 남아 있다면 적절한 증명이 주어진 것이기 때문이다.

In studying any subject, practical or theoretical, the first step must be to set out – that is, to take careful notice of – “what seems to be the case” (ta phainom ena) in the area under investigation. But what seems to be the case to whom? Only to the person who is conducting the inquiry, whether or not anyone else agrees? That would be a precarious position from which to begin. Why suppose that one has an exclusive monopoly on the truth? At the other extreme, it would be preposterous to begin by paying careful attention only to what seems to be the case to everyone. Why should disputed opinions receive no attention?

모두에게 논란의 여지가 없는 의견만 탐구의 출발점이 되어야 한다면, 논쟁적인 문제에 뛰어들지 못할 위험이 있고, 반대로 특정인의 견해에서만 "그럴듯하게 보이는 것"에서 출발한다면 독단에 빠질 위험이 있음.

Something between these extremes is what Aristotle has in mind, as we can see by turning to a term that occurs twice in this passage: endoxa (the singular is endoxon). Aristotle says that if the endoxa (translated “reputable opinions”) remain – that is, if they survive the tests that are applied to them – then they have been adequately proved. But what are endoxa?

이 양 극단을 피하기 위한 방편이 바로 평판있는 의견들[endoxa]에 호소하는 것임.

The Greek term, as its translation suggests, refers to what is thought by certain people who actually exist. Endoxa, in other words, are not mere hypotheses invented by some investigator. (A doxa is someone’s opinion, and so endoxa are opinions of a certain kind.) They are opinions accepted by certain people – but by whom? Translating endoxa as “reputable opinions” implies that they are reputable people – but who are they, and what confers their reputability on them?

Aristotle answers these questions at the beginning of his Topics: “Endoxa are what appears [dokounta] to all or to most or to the wise, and in these cases [i.e. the wise], to all of them, or most, or the ones who are most notable and reputable [endoxois]” (I.1.100b21–3). If a view is held by everyone, or most people, or a small number – namely those who have a deserved reputation for wisdom (regard less of whether all such people agree, or whether a view is in the minority) – then it will, according to Topics I.1, qualify as an endoxon; and, according to NE VII.1, it should therefore be given some attention at the beginning of an investigation.

Endoxa (the singular: endoxon)

What is thought by certain people who actually exist (not mere hypotheses invented by some investigator)

Opinions of a certain kind (a doxa is someone’s opinion)

Opinions accepted by certain people

Reputable Opinions

Aristotle: what appears [dokounta] to all or to most or to the wise, and in these cases [i.e. the wise], to all of them, or most, or the ones who are most notable and reputable [endoxois]

We can safely assume that in our NE VII.1 passage Aristotle uses his terms phainomena and endoxa to refer to the same things.

In effect, then, his idea is that the first thing we must do, when we investigate a subject, is to pay careful attention to what seems to be the case either to everyone, or to most people, or to a special and much smaller group – those who have already studied the subject. Furthermore, as our Topics I.1 passage indicates, when we take into account the views of “the wise” – those who have gone before us in the study of our subject – we should certainly pay attention to views held by all of them. But if they disagree (as often happens), we are not to dismiss them all. Rather, we should attend to both quantitative and qualitative factors: what do most of them say? What is believed by those of them who, though in the minority, have the greatest renown and reputation?

Aristotle does not say why we should begin an inquiry with a survey of these opinions, but we can make a good guess about what he has in mind. Throughout his writings, he upholds the idea that the human mind, when properly oriented, is apt to find the truth, or something close to it. “One should pay attention to the undemonstrated sayings and opinions of those who have experience and are old, or to those who have practical wisdom, no less than to demonstrations. For, because they have an eye that derives from their experience, they see rightly” (NE VI.11.1143b11–14). Certain insights come to people as a matter of course, as they accumulate experience; they may not have made a philosophical study of ethics, but we should pay careful attention to what they say and think.

That does not require an ethical investigator to consider everything that has been thought by anyone at all. The opinions of those who are mad, or of mere children, will not qualify as endoxa, since they lack the basic reasonableness of normal adults and are severely limited in their experience (EE I.3.1214b28–9). But when a view is held by a large number of ordinary adults, who have some experience of a certain matter, then a student of ethics must consider the possibility that they may be right.

The same respect is due to those who have made a special study of a subject, and are not merely relying on their untutored impressions: even if these theorists disagree, as often happens, it is unlikely that each of them is completely mistaken. Rather, we should expect each to have achieved some grasp, however partial, of the truth (Meta. II.1.993a30–b4).

...what lies behind his insistence that intellectual investigations begin with endoxa is his confidence in the adequacy of ordinary human faculties and truth-gathering processes – reason, perception, experience, science – for getting at the truth or what is not too great a deviation from the truth.

Aristotle’s idea is that if one collects enough of them carefully, omitting the opinions of those who are in no position to grasp the truth, and casting a wide net that includes the views of those who have made a special study of the subject under investigation, as well as ordinary people who have some experience of it, then one will have enough material to make further progress. The task of the theoretician is to turn that mixed bag of truths, near-truths, and falsehoods – all of them deriving from “reputable” sources (that is, from people who have some claim to credibility) – into something that meets higher intellectual standards.

There is, in other words, a danger that those who specialize in a subject will become so eager to win points over other specialists, or to achieve prominence, that they will lose their ability to tell what is reasonable to believe. That is perhaps why Aristotle’s method requires the student of a subject to pay attention not only to what seems to be the case to specialists in a field, but also to what seems to be the case to ordinary people. Doing so serves as a safeguard against the possibility that a subject has been badly distorted by the professional ambitions of those who specialize in it.

We should remind ourselves that for Aristotle consulting endoxa is a general method, not one to be used solely for investigating ethical topics: “One should, as one does in other cases, set out what seems to be the case . . .” (NE VII.1.1145b2 3, emphasis added). He employs it repeatedly in his investigations of theoretical matters (see, for example, his discussion of place at Physics IV.1–5). That sets Aristotle’s conception of methodology apart from many epistemologies of the modern era, for it has become a prevalent belief, in educated circles, that when a discipline takes the form of a science, then those who are learning that subject should pay attention only to the ideas of those who have distinguished themselves as specialists, and can ignore whatever views ordinary people have about the matter. Even so, in many areas of intellectual inquiry, we heed Aristotle’s requirement that students of a subject look both to the wise and to the many. In particular, when we study moral philosophy, it is reasonable to throw into the mixture of opinions that we take seriously not only the theories of those who have spent their lives studying the subject, but also the common moral consciousness, not only of our time and place, but of other times and places as well. If we have Aristotle’s motives, our purpose, in casting such a wide net, will not be to construct arguments that should be found convincing to all those who differ from us, but to borrow material from them that might be useful in improving our conception of how we should live.

 

3. Aporia

We should turn now to the second stage of the endoxic method (as I shall call it – sometimes it is called Aristotle’s “dialectical” method): “going through the puzzles” (diapor¯esantes).

That verb is cognate to a noun occurring frequently in Aristotle’s writings: aporia, which means “without a way of passing through.”

In common parlance, a person who encounters an aporia is in difficult straits [곤경] or lacks the resources (often monetary) needed to achieve his aims. What Aristotle means, then, is that, after we have set out the phainomena – what seems to be the case to the many or the wise – we will notice that we are in intellectual straits: it will not be immediately apparent to us how we are to proceed. Why so? When we look at the passages in which Aristotle lays out the aporiai (plural of aporia) for his audience (for example: NE I.10–11, II.4, III.4, V.9–11, VI.12–13, VII.2, VIII.1, IX.8–9, and X.2–3), it becomes evident that he thinks that a survey of the endoxa yields many apparent contradictions. Those who have made a special study of a subject do not agree among themselves; or there are apparent conflicts between what most ordinary people think and the opinions held by those who have a reputation for wisdom. So, “going through the puzzles” is a process of taking note of all the apparent conflicts thrown up by a survey of the endoxa.

This is a process that Aristotle describes most fully at Metaphysics III.1. He says there that intellectual progress is never a smooth and unproblematic accumulation of beliefs, but rather resembles a process of finding oneself tied up; in order to see how to escape and go forward, one must take a careful look at what is holding one back (III.1.995b24–33). The student must be genuinely puzzled, for otherwise he will not know what the goal of his inquiry is (995a34–995b2). The difficulties can be solved only by someone who understands them, and this involves seeing what is meant by each of the conflicting opinions, and looking for reasons for each of them. Aristotle likens the process to that of rendering a judgment in a law court after listening to each of the contending parties (995b2–4).

But of course there is this difference between the role of the juror and that of the student investigating a subject: the student must regard the intellectual puzzles of his subject as his own, not someone else’s.

The parties whose views are examined by the endoxic method may or may not be aware of the fact that their beliefs are in conflict with those of others. They themselves may not be puzzled at all. But the student who is learning a subject is aware of these conflicts, and (as the legal analogy implies) must study, with an open mind and some degree of sympathy, the point of view of each party. If a student does not feel, at this initial stage of his inquiry, that there is no way out – that he is tied down – then he will not subsequently do a good job of studying the puzzles with a view to solving them. Accordingly, the most accomplished statement of the puzzles, on the part of a teacher, would be one that induces a student to be genuinely perplexed.

How are these puzzles, created by the apparent conflict among endoxa, to be resolved?

Aristotle does try to offer some help: he advises us to look for a particular kind of deficiency in the endoxa, namely, their ambiguity. It is built into the nature of language that what we say can be construed in different ways, and yet it is all too easy (especially if one has no special training) to overlook this fact. Because of the multivocity of our terms, what we say can be both true and false: true, when construed in one way; false, when construed differently.

And that provides the best way of showing that seemingly opposed endoxa are not really in conflict, when properly construed.

This is presumably what Aristotle has in mind when he says that, after one sets out the phainomena, one’s first priority should be to prove all of the endoxa; but that, if one cannot do so, then one must settle for proving most of them (NE VII.1.1145b2–7). One can prove that all of the endoxa are correct by showing that all of the conflicts among them are merely apparent; in that case, what each party holds to be true really is true, when interpreted in the right way.

But Aristotle warns us in this same passage that it is not always possible for all of the endoxa to survive examination. What appears true to some people may simply be false, even though these people have some credibility in the area under investigation.

It might seem that there is a tension in Aristotle’s description of the endoxic method. As we have seen, he holds that students of a subject must be genuinely puzzled by the difficulties of their subject before they can make progress (Meta. III.1.995a34–b2). But, on the other hand, he thinks that a good way to solve these problems is to recognize that words are said in many ways. There would indeed be a conflict between these two aspects of the endoxic method if the several different ways in which a word is used were immediately apparent to anyone who uses it. For then every linguistically competent student of a subject would immediately see how to resolve the apparent conflicts among the endoxa; there would be no sense of puzzlement, and no need to search for a solution.

What Aristotle must be assuming, then, is that there is no way of detecting the multivocity of our words prior to engaging in the endoxic method. It is by noticing apparent conflicts among the endoxa, and looking for a way in which all of them can be construed as true, that we recognize the many different ways in which words are used.