Julia Annas

The two most important and central concepts in ancient ethical theory are those of virtue and happiness. This is well-known by now, as is the way that many scholars and philosophers have in recent years investigated the structure of ancient ethical theories, at least partly in the hope that this would help us in our modern ethical thinking by introducing us to developed theories which escape the problems that have led to so much frustration with deontological and consequentialist approaches. And there has indeed been considerable interest in developing modern forms of ethics which draw inspiration, to a greater or lesser extent, from the ancient theories. However, there is an asymmetry here. Modern theories which take their inspiration from Aristotle and other ancient theorists are standardly called virtue ethics, not happiness ethics. We have rediscovered the appeal of aretē, but eudaimonia is still, it appears, problematic for us. This has an important consequence for us, for in ancient theories virtue is not discussed in isolation; it is seen as part of a larger structure in which the overarching concept is happiness. If we focus on virtue alone and ignore its relation to happiness, we are missing a large part of the interest that study of the ancient theories can offer

It is well-known that in recent years, alongside the familiar forms of modern ethical theory, such as consequentialism, deontology, and rights theory, there has been a resurgence of interest in what goes by the name of “virtue ethics” — forms of ethical theory which give a prominent status to the virtues, and to the idea that an agent has a “final end” which the virtues enable her to achieve. With this has come an increase of theoretical interest in ancient ethical theories, particularly Aristotle's, an interest which has made a marked difference in the way ethics is pursued in the Anglo-Saxon and European intellectual worlds. In this essay, I shall not be discussing modern virtue ethics, which is notably protean in form and difficult to pin down. I shall be focusing on ancient eudaimonistic ethical theories, for in their case we can achieve a clearer discussion of the problem I wish to discuss

From the Hellenistic period we have two extensive texts of great interest which draw on Aristotle’s ethical works. One is Antiochus’ system of ethics in Cicero’s De Finibus V; the other is the long account of “the ethics of Aristotle and the other Peripatetics” in Stobaeus’ Eclogae II, 116-152, plausibly ascribed to Arius Didymus. Antiochus’ ethics is consciously “eclectic” in the sense that he is using a variety of ethical material and approaches, Aristotelian and other, to create something of his own. Arius, however, professes to be telling us what Aristotelian ethics is, and scholars have been disconcerted to find something so different from any idea we have of Aristotelian ethics. We find a text in which material clearly taken from the ethical works and the Politics has been not just summarized but recast in terms that are clearly Stoic. Most strikingly, before we get to what we recognize as Aristotelian material we find a long section developing in an Aristotelian context what seems clearly to be the Stoic notion of oikeiōsis. Either Arius, or more likely the Peripatetic source he is following, has presented Aristotle’s ethics in a very changed form. Since we have no hope of pinpointing a particular Peripatetic source for the passage, I shall for convenience refer to “Arius” or “the Arius passage,” but the person or people with whom we are concerned are more likely to be, in fact, Arius’ source or sources.

‘The matter will hinge on this point: what will be established is the ideal wise and virtuous person either of the Stoics or of the Old Academy [Platonists and Aristotelians]. You can’t have both; the dispute between them is not about boundaries but about complete ownership, since all rationale for living is involved in one’s definition of the final good, and dispute about that is dispute about all rationale for living. So it can’t be both, since they disagree so deeply; it must be one or the other.…I am dragged in different directions—at one time one view seems more convincing to me, at other times the other. Still, unless one or other of them is the case, I firmly believe that virtue is defeated. But—just on this issue they disagree.’

There is now, I think, widespread consensus that the field of ethical theory would benefit from taking more into account a tradition of ethical thinking which is best represented in ancient ethics: that of eudaimonism. These theories take the agent’s final end as primary, and hold that to be happiness. There has been a renewal of interest in Aristotle’s ethics, and a development of various forms of what is called ‘virtue ethics’. However, a true appraisal of the interest and importance for us of eudaimonistic theories needs a fuller study of the general structure of these theories than has been readily available. Too much focus on Aristotle, for example, can hide the extent to which some features of his theory are idiosyncratic to him, and not typical of eudaimonistic theory generally.

Julia Annas here offers a fundamental reexamination of Plato's ethical thought by investigating the Middle Platonist perspective, which emerged at the end of Plato's own school, the Academy. She highlights the differences between ancient and modern assumptions about Plato's ethics--and stresses the need to be more critical about our own. One of these modern assumptions is the notion that the dialogues record the development of Plato's thought. Annas shows how the Middle Platonists, by contrast, viewed the dialogues as multiple presentations of a single Platonic ethical philosophy, differing in form and purpose but ultimately coherent. They also read Plato's ethics as consistently defending the view that virtue is sufficient for happiness, and see it as converging in its main points with the ethics of the Stoics. Annas goes on to explore the Platonic idea that humankind's final end is "becoming like God"--an idea that is well known among the ancients but virtually ignored in modern interpretations. She also maintains that modern interpretations, beginning in the nineteenth century, have placed undue emphasis on the Republic, and have treated it too much as a political work, whereas the ancients rightly saw it as a continuation of Plato's ethical writings.

In the Republic, Socrates undertakes to defend justice as being in itself a benefit to its possessor. Does he do this, or does he change the subject? In a well-known article, David Sachs pointed out that there seems to be a shift in what Plato is defending. The challenge to Socrates is put by Thrasymachus, who admires the successful unjust man, and by Glaucon and Adeimantus, who do not, but are worried that justice has no adequate defence against Thrasymachus. In all these passages justice is discussed in terms of the non-performance of actions which are regarded as unjust according to common morality; Sachs calls this common concept of ordinary justice ‘vulgar justice’

Plato (c. 427-347 BC) was born into a wealthy and aristocratic Athenian family. He cherished the ambition of entering politics when he came of age, but was disillusioned first by the injustices of the oligarchic government in which his relatives Charmides and Critias were involved, and later by the action of the democracy which succeeded it, particularly the trial and execution of Socrates in 399 BC. In his best-known dialogue, The Republic, he sought to provide a theoretical foundation for a government which would embody the justice he had found to be lacking in the actual governments of his day. His only active intervention in politics, in the intended role of adviser, was an unsuccessful one in Syracuse, Sicily. Details of it are given in his Seventh Letter. Some time before his second visit to Sicily, in 367 BC, he founded the school known as ‘the Academy’. His career as a writer of dialogues may have begun before this. In his early dialogues, he memorialized Socrates and his method of philosophizing by making him chief participant and questioner. His teaching in the Academy was interrupted for a third visit to Sicily in 361-360 BC, when he was nearly seventy. He survived an illness caused by the hardships of the journey, and died aged about eighty-one.

In the area of moral epistemology, there is an interesting problem facing the person in my area, ancient philosophy, who hopes to write a historical paper which will engage with our current philosophical concerns. Not only are ancient ethical theories very different in structure and concerns from modern ones, but the concerns and emphases of ancient epistemology are very different from those of modern theories of knowledge. Some may think that they are so different that they are useful to our own discussions only by way of contrast. I am more sanguine, but I am quite aware that this essay's contribution to modern debates does not fall within the established modern traditions of discussing moral epistemology