Everything is estimated by the standard of its own good. The vine is valued for its productiveness and the flavor of its wine, the stag for his speed. We ask, with regard to beasts of burden, how sturdy of back they are; for their only use is to bear burdens. If a dog is to find the trail of a wild beast, keenness of scent is of first importance; if to catch his quarry, swiftness of foot; if to attack and harry it, courage. In each thing that quality should be best for which the thing is brought into being and by which it is judged.
And what quality is best in man? It is reason; by virtue of reason he surpasses the animals, and is surpassed only by the gods. Perfect reason is therefore the good peculiar to man; all other qualities he shares in some degree with animals and plants.
Man is strong; so is the lion. Man is comely; so is the peacock. Man is swift; so is the horse. I do not say that man is surpassed in all these qualities. I am not seeking to find that which is greatest in him, but that which is peculiarly his own. Man has body; so also have trees. Man has the power to act and to move at will; so have beasts and worms. Man has a voice; but how much louder is the voice of the dog, how much shriller that of the eagle, how much deeper that of the bull, how much sweeter and more melodious that of the nightingale!
What then is peculiar to man? Reason. When this is right and has reached perfection, man’s felicity is complete. Hence, if everything is praiseworthy and has arrived at the end intended by its nature, when it has brought its peculiar good to perfection, and if man’s peculiar good is reason; then, if a man has brought his reason to perfection, he is praiseworthy and has reached the end suited to his nature. This perfect reason is called virtue, and is likewise that which is honorable.
And what quality is best in man? It is reason; by virtue of reason he surpasses the animals, and is surpassed only by the gods. Perfect reason is therefore the good peculiar to man; all other qualities he shares in some degree with animals and plants.
Man is strong; so is the lion. Man is comely; so is the peacock. Man is swift; so is the horse. I do not say that man is surpassed in all these qualities. I am not seeking to find that which is greatest in him, but that which is peculiarly his own. Man has body; so also have trees. Man has the power to act and to move at will; so have beasts and worms. Man has a voice; but how much louder is the voice of the dog, how much shriller that of the eagle, how much deeper that of the bull, how much sweeter and more melodious that of the nightingale!
What then is peculiar to man? Reason. When this is right and has reached perfection, man’s felicity is complete. Hence, if everything is praiseworthy and has arrived at the end intended by its nature, when it has brought its peculiar good to perfection, and if man’s peculiar good is reason; then, if a man has brought his reason to perfection, he is praiseworthy and has reached the end suited to his nature. This perfect reason is called virtue, and is likewise that which is honorable.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 76
If I wish to discover the purpose of anything at all, let me look to that which is peculiar to its own nature; by learning about the what of the inherent form, I reveal the why of the greater function.
Such a method of inquiry is hardly unique to the Stoics, for it is the common-sense approach of any troubleshooter, whether he is taking apart an engine or exploring the depths of the soul. Aristotle said as much in a passage from the first book of his Nicomachean Ethics, a text that has become my anchor when I begin to doubt the clarity of my own humanity:
For just as for a flute-player, a sculptor, or an artist, and, in general, for all things that have a function or activity, the good and the “well” is thought to reside in the function, so would it seem to be for man, if he has a function.
Have the carpenter, then, and the tanner certain functions or activities, and has man none? Is he born without a function? Or as eye, hand, foot, and in general each of the parts evidently has a function, may one lay it down that man similarly has a function apart from all these? What then can this be?
Life seems to be common even to plants, but we are seeking what is peculiar to man. Let us exclude, therefore, the life of nutrition and growth. Next there would be a life of perception, but it also seems to be common even to the horse, the ox, and every animal.
There remains, then, an active life of the element that has a rational principle; of this, one part has such a principle in the sense of being obedient to one, the other in the sense of possessing one and exercising thought. . . .
For all of my grumbling and handwringing, there is no arcane riddle about why I am put here on this Earth, as long as I calmly choose to focus on what is right before me. My objections come from a fear of becoming responsible for myself, not because my essence is unintelligible.
There was a time when I would confront the current intellectual fashions of skepticism, subjectivism, and relativism with theoretical arguments, and yet I now see how the trend is more a product of yielding to the passions than it is of exercising reason. Now I am more likely to recognize that the modern Pilate doesn’t even wish for there to be any truth to curb his desires.
The only remedy is in urging him to embrace how he is already part of a world much bigger than himself, to remember his own nature as a portion of the fullness of Nature. Each creature is made with its unique place in the plan of Providence, a distinct mission according to its specific powers.
So, the vine is there to produce fruit, or the hound is there to pursue the scent of his prey. Now a man also grows like the plant, or senses like the beast, but what is particular to his sort of being? He is gifted with a mind, by which to judge, and by which to order his feelings. His understanding tells him not only that he should act, but also the reasons why he should act; in this regard, he is gifted with the freedom to accept or to reject.
When a man reasons with excellence, and thus lives most completely in service to his awareness of the true and the good, we might call this virtue. For any other abilities he may possess, to a greater or a lesser degree, their benefit or harm is determined by the merit within his judgements.
I am often told that the capacity for emotion makes humans special, though I fear this comes from the folks who have never spent enough time with a pet cat, which will show affection and anger with as much complexity as any person. It is the power of the mind to rise above the circumstances, to grasp the causes, that makes humans special, and it is by the application of the mind that we will rise or fall—everything else in our lives hinges upon it.
If I wish to discover the purpose of anything at all, let me look to that which is peculiar to its own nature; by learning about the what of the inherent form, I reveal the why of the greater function.
Such a method of inquiry is hardly unique to the Stoics, for it is the common-sense approach of any troubleshooter, whether he is taking apart an engine or exploring the depths of the soul. Aristotle said as much in a passage from the first book of his Nicomachean Ethics, a text that has become my anchor when I begin to doubt the clarity of my own humanity:
For just as for a flute-player, a sculptor, or an artist, and, in general, for all things that have a function or activity, the good and the “well” is thought to reside in the function, so would it seem to be for man, if he has a function.
Have the carpenter, then, and the tanner certain functions or activities, and has man none? Is he born without a function? Or as eye, hand, foot, and in general each of the parts evidently has a function, may one lay it down that man similarly has a function apart from all these? What then can this be?
Life seems to be common even to plants, but we are seeking what is peculiar to man. Let us exclude, therefore, the life of nutrition and growth. Next there would be a life of perception, but it also seems to be common even to the horse, the ox, and every animal.
There remains, then, an active life of the element that has a rational principle; of this, one part has such a principle in the sense of being obedient to one, the other in the sense of possessing one and exercising thought. . . .
For all of my grumbling and handwringing, there is no arcane riddle about why I am put here on this Earth, as long as I calmly choose to focus on what is right before me. My objections come from a fear of becoming responsible for myself, not because my essence is unintelligible.
There was a time when I would confront the current intellectual fashions of skepticism, subjectivism, and relativism with theoretical arguments, and yet I now see how the trend is more a product of yielding to the passions than it is of exercising reason. Now I am more likely to recognize that the modern Pilate doesn’t even wish for there to be any truth to curb his desires.
The only remedy is in urging him to embrace how he is already part of a world much bigger than himself, to remember his own nature as a portion of the fullness of Nature. Each creature is made with its unique place in the plan of Providence, a distinct mission according to its specific powers.
So, the vine is there to produce fruit, or the hound is there to pursue the scent of his prey. Now a man also grows like the plant, or senses like the beast, but what is particular to his sort of being? He is gifted with a mind, by which to judge, and by which to order his feelings. His understanding tells him not only that he should act, but also the reasons why he should act; in this regard, he is gifted with the freedom to accept or to reject.
When a man reasons with excellence, and thus lives most completely in service to his awareness of the true and the good, we might call this virtue. For any other abilities he may possess, to a greater or a lesser degree, their benefit or harm is determined by the merit within his judgements.
I am often told that the capacity for emotion makes humans special, though I fear this comes from the folks who have never spent enough time with a pet cat, which will show affection and anger with as much complexity as any person. It is the power of the mind to rise above the circumstances, to grasp the causes, that makes humans special, and it is by the application of the mind that we will rise or fall—everything else in our lives hinges upon it.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
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