Ben Mijuskovic

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 31.1 (2007) 133-141MuseSearchJournalsThis JournalContents[Access article in PDF]Virtue EthicsBen Lazare Mijuskovic California State University, Dominguez HillsIt has been suggested that the roots of virtue or character ethics ultimately reach back to Plato and especially to Aristotle's discussion of moral character as proposed by G. E. M. Anscombe's essay, "Modern Moral Philosophy," originally published in 1958.1 Thus it was maintained that virtue or character ethics emphasized traditionally neglected topics, such as motives, education, training, temperance (phronesis), happiness, (eudaimonia), magnanimity, and especially the cardinal virtue of friendship as all deriving from certain dispositional qualities in the person, from a relatively constant state of character, from a stable personality.2In terms of Plato, it is the early, aporetic, Socratic dialogues that are indicated as especially concerned with character. And that may be but clearly in these conversations Socrates concludes, as a negative revelation, that a condition for virtue (Virtue as Knowledge of the Good) requires the realization that one does not know what virtue is, that conceited ignorance (amathia) first must be recognized before proceeding positively toward the unchanging Form of Goodness. And just as certainly, although, in the Republic, Socrates does emphasize the relation of happiness to justice, nevertheless it is fairly obvious that for Plato the truly happy and just man is so only in so far as he is able to intellectually and intuitively grasp the eternal Form of the Good as his criterion. However, this is hardly an emphasis on character. Similarly, we can say that as far as Aristotle is concerned, despite the fact that he does focus on the dispositional attributes of a virtuous or happy [End Page 133] character (or life), nevertheless the Philosopher is very specific in stating that there is an absolutely right thing to do in each circumstance and it is grounded in the mean between two vices. The mean, for instance, between cowardice and rashness is courage. Thus, there is an absolute (albeit contextual) criterion for a boy, a girl, a man, a woman, an old man, an old woman, etc., an objective measure for each in various situations requiring courage. This standard, which is based in the immediate perception of pleasure or pain, which directly follows an act, may be developed by training; but certainly Aristotle has more to say about the mean and how to achieve it than he does about training, except for the brief statements that we become virtuous by doing virtuous acts and good by the practically wise choices we make. Thus, for Aristotle, it is possible to evaluate specific, particular acts by invoking the measure of the mean. Essentially for both Plato and Aristotle, the criteria "subsist" independently of the act, person or polis. Hence, both Plato and Aristotle remain predominantly rule-oriented.By contrast, in Homerian ethics—as opposed to Platonic or Peripatetic guidelines—it is the whole person who is admirable, not the act; it is the "being" of Achilles, it is his "substance" that is praiseworthy and not whether or not he weeps for his departed companion. It is the entire man that expresses the standard of value. And just as obviously there are times and instances when an agent or an action misses the Aristotelian mark or the "mean" and yet we do not criticize the individual as either morally or psychologically deficient precisely because we consider instead the overall person, we take other factors into consideration, features deeply embedded in his or her personality, including how he or she handled the situation and not whether or not the individual measured up to some abstract, independent, theoretical standard. The noble or laudable hero or heroine does not concern himself or herself with dissecting and separating himself or heself from their actions, from their motives or emotions, as if the latter could stand apart from themselves. And thus it appears to be a mistake to think that the Homeric character would obsess about either the consistency, conformity, or applicability of a rule in regard to their actions and responses.And here we might interject an interesting...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume on Space (and Time) BEN MIJUSKOVIC HUME'S LABYRINTHINE ANALYSES of our ideas of space and time, textually occuring so early in the Treatise, 1clearly testify to his conviction of their central role in the physical sciences, then making such fantastic progress. Furthermore, quite early in the Treatise, Hume indicates his ambition to effect a revolution in the mental sciences comparable to the one Newton had achieved in the physical disciplines, through the latter's conception of the force and effects of gravity. Accordingly, Hume regards the three principles or laws of the association of ideas as a "kind of ATTRACTION, which in the mental world will be found to have as extraordinary effects as in the natural" (T, 12-13). In pursuit of his investigations Hume commences, in the first part of the Treatise, by insisting on the principle that all our simple ideas are derived from simple impressions and that impressions always precede their correspondent ideas (T, 4, 7). This being firmly established, Hume nevertheless immediately proceeds in the very next part of the work to declare, paradoxically enough, that our ideas of space and time are complex ideas that lie beyond the nature of each and all of our simple impressions. Differently put, Hume is insisting that our ideas of space and time, unlike our idea of, say, a shade of blue, are not derived unproblematically from a precedent, simple mental impression (or physiological sensation, ~ la Locke). Thus, according to Hume, our idea of space is not sensationally given; it is not traceable to an antecedent extended impression as our idea of blue is derived from a precedent impression of blue. Hume's insistence that our conception of space is nonsensational has perplexed competent commentators on Hume. Consequently, even so able an interpreteter as Kemp Smith has been puzzled "why it was that [Hume] did not take the more easy line of allowing 'extensity' to the sensations of sight and touch. ''2 Or again, "How is it that [Hume] has not taken what would seem to be for him the easier and more obvious course, at least as regards space--the course usually taken by those who hold a sensationalist theory of knowledge--that extensity is a feature of certain of our sensations (those given through the senses of touch and sight), and in consequence sensibly imaged?" (PDH, 280). Of this simpler solution both Hobbes (Leviathan, Pt. I, 1; De Corpore, Pt. II, 7, 8) and Locke (Essay, II, 8) had availed themselves prior to Hume. Hence, Kemp Smith has found the section to be tough going indeed and has contented himself, to a great extent, in simply offering a number of historical appendices, suggesting lines of influence on Hume, through passages discovered in the works of Pierre Bayle, Nicholas de Malezieu, and Isaac Barrow. Now, without denying that Hume studied and was influenced in part by the ' A Treatise of Hurnan Nature, ed. L. A. Selby-Bigge (Oxford, 1888); hereafter cited as T. 2 The Philosophy of David Hume (New York, 1964), p. 277; hereafter cited as PDH. [3871 388 HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY thinking of these authors (as well as by Francis Hutcheson), I wish to take up and develop in this paper a "historical" suggestion first offered by a student of Kemp Smith's, Charles Hendel; and I shall extend Hendel's point and try to argue a "theoretic" one, namely, that Hume's phenomenalism in the section devoted to space and time is derived from, and closely akin to, a form of Leibnizian idealism. In 1925, Hendel argued that Hume was directly influenced by the Leibniz-Clarke debate over the ontological and epistemological status of space and time; and he held that for Hume space and time, as appearances, were ultimately grounded in the associative power of the imagination.' Thirty years later, in a second edition, Hendel disavowed his earlier claim concerning the imagination and avoided discussion of his prior view that Hume was influenced by the Leibniz-Clarke correspondence (1963 edition, pp. 501, 503). In Hume's Philosophy of Human Nature, which first appeared in 1932 (reissued by Archon, 1967; see pp. 64-65, 67, 73, 77), John Laird also intimated that...

In previous publications, I have historically traced the prevalence and the influence of an argument—an argument which Kant calls the Achilles, the most powerful, of all rationalist demonstrations in the history of ideas. This proof, which ultimately derives from Plato has been repeatedly used and has had a major influence in shaping philosophic discussions since the Hellenic Age. The form of the argument is fairly straightforward: the essential nature of the soul consists in its power of thinking; thought, being immaterial, is unextended, i.e., simple, having no parts; and what is simple is indestructible; a unity; and an identity. I have attempted to map the incidence and force of this demonstration in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries—from the Cambridge Platonists to Kant —a time when it becomes crucial in questions concerning the immortality of the soul; the “transcendental” condition necessary for the unity of consciousness ; the necessary and sufficient criteria for the establishment of personal or moral identity; and its use as a sometimes hidden or unconscious premise, but often explicit “principle,” of certain metaphysical and epistemological idealist doctrines. Thus, if thought and soul are essentially unextended, it at once becomes problematic how an immaterial soul can know a material, extended, “external” world.