Primary conceptions are common to all men, and one does not conflict with another.
Who among us, for instance, does not assume that the good is expedient and desirable and that we ought in all circumstances to follow and pursue it?
Which of us does not assume that the just is noble and becoming?
At what moment then does conflict arise? It arises in the application of primary conceptions to particular facts; when for instance one says, “He has done well: he is brave,” and another, “No, he is out of his mind.”
Hence arises the conflict of men with one another.
Such is the conflict between Jews and Syrians and Egyptians and Romans—not the question whether holiness must be put before all things and must in all circumstances be pursued, but whether it is holy or unholy to eat of swine's flesh.
Back when I first started to dabble in philosophy, this was the sort of chapter I would have rushed through, or perhaps even skipped over. I was eager to get to what I believed were the “interesting bits”, the fiery diatribes about all the pressing issues of the hour. Let’s debate about abortion, or nuclear power, or the minimum wage! That’s the stuff that actually matters!
Yet it didn’t take me too long to see how we were usually going in circles, or talking past one another, or confusing our passion for clarity. Most every argument wasn’t really an argument in the logical sense, but was rather a rhetorical flourish standing in for a demonstration. We vaguely agreed on doing the right thing, and then hastily jumped to all sorts of wildly diverging demands.
It was easy to insist that the opponent was either an imbecile or a fascist, though it just made us become more ignorant or pig-headed. Unless we were merely going to yell until we were blue in the face, we needed to find the missing piece
This is why chapters like this are essential. Demonstrations work from prior premises, and it is impossible to keep going backwards to infinity. At some point, we must arrive at first principles, propositions that are most certainly true, but need not themselves be proven, as they are self-evident. They do not call for naïve assumption or blind belief—they are the very preconditions for any awareness of reality, and to deny them is a contradiction in terms.
Epictetus rightly chooses two of the most obvious examples:
Desire is, by its nature, for what is beneficial, and aversion is, by its nature, for what is harmful. Twist the terms all you like, and still no one consciously chooses what he thinks is bad for him.
Similarly, justice is taken as a universal condition of human relationships, such that no one claims to act unfairly, even as everyone grumbles about being treated unfairly. Surely if it is good, it must also be taken as lawful.
The gaping hole is thus revealed. The “general idea” is postulated, and then suddenly particular rules are dictated. In between them we neglect to make a connection, to show how the latter follows from the former in an orderly manner.
To live in virtue, it is not enough to propose a fuzzy concept, and then to attach a list of preferences to the ambiguous ideal. As much as I enjoy smoked kippers or Marmite on toast, I do not presume to impose them as a required diet on my fellows.
Let me define a term clearly, and then let me apply it precisely. To know the “good” is to consider the common identity of human nature; to implement the “good” is to discern how it is present in the widest possible range of instances. Where I have no grasp of who I am, I am clueless about what to do.
Of course fortitude is a virtue—the lion is more noble than the scaredy-cat. That statement is meaningless, however, without an understanding of the ends worth fighting for, and the means by which to do so. We squabble and scratch at one another when we fail to join the principles together with the practices.
Look at how many people say they love God and love their neighbors, and then they cast out the infidels who eat at the wrong restaurants. Goodness, justice, bravery, and piety exist within the complete context of a whole, not as shallow soundbites.
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