Our highest good may also be defined
otherwise, that is to say, the same idea may be expressed in different
language. Just as the same army may at one time be extended more widely, at
another contracted into a smaller compass, and may either be curved towards the
wings by a depression in the line of the center, or drawn up in a straight
line, while, in whatever figure it be arrayed, its strength and loyalty remain
unchanged; so also our definition of the highest good may in some cases be
expressed diffusely and at great length, while in others it is put into a short
and concise form.
Thus, it will come to the same thing,
if I say "The highest good is a mind which despises the accidents of
fortune, and takes pleasure in virtue.” Or "It is an unconquerable
strength of mind, knowing the world well, gentle in its dealings, showing great
courtesy and consideration for those with whom it is brought into
contact."
Or we may choose to define it by
calling that man happy who knows good and bad only in the form of good or bad
minds, who worships honor, and is satisfied with his own virtue, who is neither
puffed up by good fortune nor cast down by evil fortune, who knows no other
good than that which he is able to bestow upon himself, whose real pleasure
lies in despising pleasures. . . .
—Seneca
the Younger, On the happy life,
Chapter 4 (tr Stewart)
The
ignorant man cares neither for words nor for meaning. The scholar often cares
for words at the expense of meaning. The true philosopher loves words because
they indicate meaning.
There
isn’t always one right wording, since varying forms of definitions will express
different aspects and strengths, and different degrees of breadth and depth. Arrange
your army in whatever formation you wish, but it is still the same army.
I would
always enjoy reading Aristotle on happiness with students, and though his
philosophy is from a different tradition than that of the Stoics, I was pleased
to see how some students would have that moment of insight, where however we
ordered the words, it became clear to them that happiness was essentially
measured by what we did, and not by what happened to us.
Aristotle,
for example, offers a very precise definition:
Happiness is the activity of a
rational soul, according to complete virtue, and determined over a complete
life.
Now all
of that is quite a mouthful, and can certainly seem confusing and obscure. More
academically inclined students may take this apart, and relate all the pieces
to the overall argument of the chapter, that happiness is always an end and
never a means, and that it must therefore be something complete and
self-sufficient, or that we can come to know what is good for a human being by
considering the function of human nature. Such discussions are the sorts of
things that inspire us bookish teachers, especially if we can dabble in the
subtleties of the original Greek.
Every so
often I would have the pleasure of such an involved and lively discussion,
though one of my favorite moments came when I noticed a quiet and reserved
student staring out the window and smiling. I wanted to pull her into the
conversation. I asked her if any of the definition was helpful.
“Yes,
because it sounds like he’s really just saying two things. Happiness is about
living, and it’s about living well.” The budding Greek scholars were suddenly
silent, because the unassuming student had it all in a nutshell.
Notice
also, of course, how this is hardly much different from a Stoic view, or from the
different wordings that Seneca suggests. Happiness proceeds from the excellence
of my actions, and not from my circumstances. This is why the happy man is
strong from within. He expresses love and concern for his neighbors, out of the
very conviction that his character will define him. We might consider many
different parts and aspects of a happy life, but it remains one and the same
thing throughout.
I was
once part of a similar sort of discussion, this one not even in the formal
context of a class, where we were trying to come to an agreeable definition of
honor. Seneca uses it, for example, in one of his possible definitions. Now
honor seems quite a noble word, but it can be used in very different ways.
The
conversation was quickly unraveling, because some people thought seeking honor
was an expression of good moral character, and others thought it was the
pursuit of vanity. It took someone only a moment to clarify what was shared,
and where there was divergence: “Honor is about respect or credit. Now a good
man is honorable if he acts out of respect for his own conscience. A bad man is
honorable if he lets his life be determined only by the respect other people
give him.”
I don’t
think Seneca, or any Stoic, or any philosopher, could have put it any better. Let
what is good in life proceed from yourself, and not what you receive from the
world.
Written in 10/1999
No comments:
Post a Comment