|
A
peer-reviewed electronic journal published by the Institute for
Ethics and ISSN 1541-0099 23(1) – October 2013 |
Harder,
Faster, Stronger – Better: Aristotle’s Ethics and Physical Human Enhancement
Kyle
Oskvig
Journal of Evolution and Technology - Vol. 23 Issue 1 – October 2013 - pgs 19-30
Abstract
Physical
human enhancement is usually perceived as a morally insignificant topic,
especially in the rare instance when it is considered outside the realm of
competitive sport. Nick Bostrom explains the physical enhancement literature’s
narrow focus by noting that “the value of such enhancement outside the sporting
and cosmetic arenas is questionable” (2008, 131). In the present paper, I argue
that this perception is a result of limitations inherent to the ethical paradigms
under which bioethical analysis is commonly done. It is unsurprisingly
difficult to find moral value in brute physical capacity when we tend to attach
the tags “moral” and “ethical” only to interpersonal, especially altruistic,
relations. I proceed to describe Aristotle’s ethical paradigm as having a wider
scope, and present his apparently self-contradictory views on the moral value
of physical excellence. I then sketch a modified Aristotelian theory, which
consistently affirms the value of human physical and mental activity alike, and
show how an Aristotelian emphasis on human function can reveal physical human
enhancement to be a tap into intrinsic moral value.1
Aristotle’s
ethics
It is worth asking at the outset how a
2,300-year-old corpus of Greek texts could be relevant to some of our time’s
fastest-moving, highest-tech ethical dilemmas. Aristotle was a groundbreaking biologist
in his day, but no one would claim that he could have foreseen particular
enhancement technologies that now exist or soon will. Though he can’t tell us
which carbon fibers should be allowed in Olympic track prosthetics, or whether
erythropoietin injections should be banned from the Tour de France, I suggest
that he absolutely can give a novel account of ethical considerations relevant
to enhancement. In fact, his eudaimonistic ethical system, with its emphasis on
human activity and human functioning, is practically custom-built to address
the ethical implications of expanded human capacity.
Aristotle takes a long view of moral
action. Where contemporary ethical discourse tends to chew over what is “the
right thing to do” in response to some one-and-done moral dilemma, Aristotle’s
ethical writings are concerned to find the habitual mode of action that results
in a life well-lived (Nicomachean Ethics
[NE] I.7.1098a18-21).2 He can and does regard
some individual actions as being morally commendable (NE X.8.1179a3), but regards each as only a small piece of the moral
puzzle that takes a lifetime to assemble. When we live a life of consistently
excellent activity, we live in eudaimonia,
a state of well-being that’s difficult to express by one English word, although
“happiness” is a common choice. It would be fair to call the eudaimon person “happy,” but in a deep,
long-term sense, more French heureux than
content.
If eudaimonia
is paraphrased as “living well,” pretty much everyone will agree that eudaimonia is the proper goal for a
human life. But what are the pieces that come together to construct and
comprise a well-lived life? That is, which habitual activities are the right
ones? Aristotle recognizes that this question is the nub of all ethical
disagreement (NE I.7.1097b24-26), but
his own account of the content of a well-lived life is famously incoherent.3 Broadly
speaking, three readings of Aristotle’s account of eudaimonia have found currency among commentators: the
intellectual, the inclusive, and the inconsistent.4 The
intellectual interpretation has Aristotle placing philosophical contemplation
on a pedestal by itself as the only intrinsically worthwhile activity a human
being can engage in. The inclusive interpretation has Aristotle making a more
commonsense case for human well-being, with intellectual activity as only one
important piece of a life that also includes family, friendship, physical
fitness, material possessions, and other non-intellectual goods. The
inconsistent interpretation has Aristotle failing to present a coherent system,
presenting an intellectualist case in some places, and an inclusivist case in
others, with no clear reconciliation of the two.
The present paper is rooted in an
inclusivist theory of eudaimonia. This
is probably not surprising. Since the vogue for Aristotle’s “virtue ethics” began
some fifty years ago, it has often been marketed as a commonsense ethic for
everyday life. An intellectualist virtue ethics would have less broad appeal. Virtue
ethics has also been presented as an alternative to the two reigning ethical
paradigms of our day, deontology and consequentialism. Not everyone has been
impressed – the status of virtue ethics as a truly independent third paradigm
has been disputed (e.g. Nussbaum 1999), and its purveyors have been taken to
task for a tendency to lard their writings with exhortations to warm, fuzzy,
and decidedly un-Aristotelian virtues (see Coope 2006 for a grouchy but
incisive critique). Enough criticisms of the trend seem warranted that I am
unwilling to present myself as a card-carrying virtue ethicist.
But despite its hesitations about “virtue
ethics” so called, I hope the present paper identifies an excellent instance of
an Aristotelian approach to morality leading to a viewpoint that’s out of reach
for deontological and consequentialist approaches, along with the synthetic “principlist”
approach popular among bioethicists. And despite my compunctions about
un-Aristotelian accretions in modern virtue ethics, I will be arguing beyond
Aristotle myself. The difference, I hope, will be in a clear exposition of what
Aristotle says and what he doesn’t say.
Aristotle
on the ethics of physical excellence
This paper’s focus on physical, as opposed
to cognitive, enhancement results from my perception that it’s here that Aristotle’s
thought can inspire the most immediately novel contribution. The mind, even for
an inclusivist Aristotle, is central to the full realization of human moral
perfection, because our rational faculty is uniquely human, separating us from
the lower animals. Being an excellent human has much to do with whether and how
one makes use of our most distinctive ability. Cognitive enhancement ethics has
been done in frameworks reminiscent of Aristotle, such as Barbro Fröding’s
virtue-ethical analysis (Fröding 2012),5 and Norman
Daniels’ idea of species-typical functioning (Daniels 2006, 23), but giving
Aristotle a seat at the table by directly applying his writings to issues of
cognitive enhancement could prove fruitful. He would have much to say.
Despite his emphasis on the rational, Aristotle
also remarks on the human body’s role in ethical living. Although apparent
inconsistencies make it difficult to systematize the body’s place in his moral
theory, his writings sometimes laud bodily goods as necessary to eudaimonia, and worthy of cultivation
and esteem. Aristotle takes the category of bodily goods to include capacities
such as speed and strength,6 the latter of
which will be my focus.7 When dividing and
classifying the goods of human life, Aristotle sometimes makes a distinction
between internal and external goods (e.g. Rhetoric
I.5.1360b30-32). In general, internal goods are more valuable and more closely
associated with the individual, while external goods are of lower rank and are
added to the individual from outside. But Aristotle does not present consistent
classifications in all his works, notably placing bodily goods sometimes among
internal, sometimes among external goods, and sometimes in a category of their
own (Rapp 2009, 222; Cooper 1999, 294-95;
Reeve 1992, 161-63).
Aristotle maintains that external goods
are gained through good luck, even in passages where he classifies bodily goods
as external (e.g. Politics IV.11.1295b3-10;
NE VII.13.1153b17-19). This is
puzzling, since his specific analyses of the etiology of physical strength
uniformly hold that strength is gained by hard but measured labor and zealous
attention to diet.8 Any athlete knows that
a certain amount of luck is required to avoid injury, but it seems odd to
acknowledge the rigors of training and still maintain that luck is the primary
source of strength.
Additionally, at EN II.4.1105a10, Aristotle lays down an aphorism that we might
expect to see on the wall of a weight room, or the back of a track team’s T-shirt:
“a good thing is better when it’s more difficult.” This remark accentuates how
odd it is to class physical strength with goods of fortune like height or
inherited wealth. At the least, it would seem to necessitate a distinction
between the value of a given level of strength exercised on one hand by a
hard-training featherweight, and on the other hand by someone who was just born
burly.
Finally, while Aristotle uniformly
classes strength as a good, he contradicts himself as to whether strength is an
intrinsically valuable good – it is at Rhet.
I.7.1363b8-1364a2, but not at Eudemian
Ethics VIII.3.1248b23-24 and Topics
III.1.116b37-117a2.9
Aristotle’s
ethics, evolved
Aristotle never explicitly acknowledges
the tension created by his apparently contradictory evaluations of the ethics
of physical strength. What if we were to iron the inconsistency out of his
thought ourselves? What would the resulting theory look like? If we maintain
the inclusivist stance on eudaimonia,
we would have to grant that exercise of physical strength is imbued with moral
excellence. Our own classification of goods – i.e., just what proportion of eudaimonia consists in the exercise of
physical strength – will dictate how weighty, as it were, this excellence is. It
might be significant, or it might be small potatoes in comparison to the
excellence inherent to other activities that contribute more to eudaimonia. The key point remains: in
such an evolved Aristotelian ethics, exercise of physical strength has
intrinsic moral value. Not merely as a means to health, or self-confidence, or
longer life – it is valuable in itself.10
This is a very foreign notion to most of
us. Contemporary usage tends exclusively to apply terms like “moral,” “ethical,”
and “the right thing to do” to interpersonal relations, especially altruistic
intentions and actions. Such usage reflects the same conceptual prejudices that
consistently preclude physical enhancement from being treated in bioethical
literature. We can easily see moral worth in the actions of a firefighter who
dashes up several flights of stairs to axe a heavy door and save a child from a
burning building, but most of us would locate moral worth only in the
consequence of a child’s being rescued, or in the firefighter’s good
intentions. That there might be moral worth intrinsic to the firefighter’s
physical prowess is an alien idea. Some would no doubt even see it as a reductio ad absurdum of inclusivist,
Aristotelian moral theory – that is, if an ethical system entails moral worth
in brute physical activity, the system must be defective.11 Here we see
how the moral world really can look different through an Aristotelian lens.
If there is moral worth in the exercise
of physical strength and speed, what is its nature, and where does it come
from? One possible answer is rooted in Aristotle’s Function Argument (NE I.7.1097b22-1098a20). In this
argument, Aristotle asserts that the human good is determined by considering
the function most proper to humans, and he concludes that since humans are the
only rational creatures, the human good must be a certain sort of mental
activity. The arbitrary limitation to a single, exceptionally distinctive
activity seems hard to defend, especially if we hold to inclusivism, which
affirms the moral relevance of non-rational activity. Instead of throwing out
the Function Argument, though, an evolved Aristotelian theory may be able
expand it to be inclusive of non-rational human functions. This expansion is
not without peril. It could well run out of control, yielding results
unacceptable to almost everyone. If moral value is found in activities that
humans tend to do and are good at doing, how could we non-arbitrarily condemn
time-honored pursuits like lying, adultery, slavery, or killing? Any
naturalistic theory of ethics must answer this difficult question by giving
grounds for drawing the moral-immoral line where it does.12 As Gavin
Lawrence puts it, it may be “human to do all kinds of nasty things” (2006, 39).
There isn’t room to decide such a fundamental question in this paper, but it must
be pointed out as a potential problem.13
A focus on function in ethics is
indicative of Aristotle’s broader emphasis on teleology in metaphysics and
natural philosophy. Teleological theories of nature, emphasizing ends (teloi) for the sake of which events
occur, have had a rough ride since the rise of modern science (Westfall 1977). But
within biology, Aristotle’s teleology was at least partly vindicated by the
discovery of evolution by natural selection. While we don’t say that the
process of evolution as a whole is directed by aspiration toward a telos, modern biological theory seems to
invoke such ends to explain naturally selected traits.14 Why do apes
have opposable thumbs? Aristotle and Darwin give the same answer: because it
helps them grasp things (Gotthelf 1999, 23; Parts
of Animals IV.10.687b3-25).
There
isn’t space here to explore Aristotle’s broader teleology in detail, nor to
investigate the relationship between Aristotelian and evolutionary ethics. Suffice
to say that a close relation of fact and value is integral to both theories. While
some modern readers have accused Aristotle of committing the naturalistic
fallacy (culpably deriving “ought” from “is”) (e.g.
Aristotelian
vs. other ethics
Consider a hypothetical biological enhancement
procedure that would double a human being’s overall physical strength. If we
need specification about what “physical strength” means, let’s go with
Aristotle: “strength is the power of moving another thing as one wishes; and to
move another thing, one must either pull, push, lift up, press down, or squeeze”
(Rhet. I.4.1361b15-17). What would
non-Aristotelian theories say about this enhancement’s moral significance? A
consequentialist theory would assign moral significance based on an assessment
of the enhancement’s positive or negative outcomes. This could be read very
broadly, including anything from bystanders’ anxiety about the technology used,
to how the enhanced individual is likely to apply his newfound strength (more
effective firefighting, or more violent domestic violence?). The enhancement
and resulting strength therefore might be extrinsically good or bad, depending
on the happiness or suffering they bring to pass. A Kantian theory would look
to the intentions of those involved in the procedure, and unless the intentions
were pronouncedly benevolent or nefarious, it would be likely to shrug off the
enhancement and its direct results as amoral events. A generalized bioethical
principlism might try to blend consequentialism and deontology, as in Beauchamp
and Childress’ “Georgetown Mantra” of autonomy, beneficence, non-maleficence
and justice. With no guidelines for prioritizing the four principles, the
results of such a flexible (some might say squishy)16 approach are
notoriously difficult to predict.
In contrast, an evolved, inclusivist Aristotelian
ethics considers the exercise of increased strength an intrinsic good. Not
because it enables good consequences – as an aspect of human excellence, it is
a good in itself. Now, although moral improvement may follow quickly upon
enhancement, it isn’t automatic, and the distinction between capability and action
is worth pointing out. By Aristotle’s lights, merely being the sort of person
who would act morally if called upon does not make a person good. Action is
necessary, and only habitual actions can be claimed as evidence for moral
character. For this reason, even an evolved Aristotelian theory would not quite
call a physical enhancement good in itself – moral improvement lies only in the
exercise of increased capacity.17
Of course, accepting some amount of good
as intrinsic to the exercise of increased capacity does not preclude foregoing
enhancement to avoid attendant evils. Aristotle’s writings are marked by
circumspect attention to detail, and one can scarcely get through a chapter of NE without being reminded that contextual
information about time, place, person, intention and manner is necessary for
properly gauging an action’s ethical status. If our proposed strength enhancement
is accomplished by the fabled strength-boosting effect of a street drug like
phencyclidine (PCP) or “bath salts,” Aristotle would say that adverse side
effects – especially the frightening damage done to our cardinal function,
rationality – render it completely unacceptable.18 An
Aristotelian theory is also equipped to consider social impact, and we find at NE I.2.1094b8 that the good of the
polity is more important than the good of an individual. Although we may
disagree with Aristotle about what constitutes a good polity, his framework is
nonetheless sophisticated enough to place social welfare on the balances when
judging an action’s ethical status.
Since an Aristotelian theory is willing
and able to weigh moral improvement against any detriments that may accompany a
physical enhancement, we might wonder if its position ends up being much
different from the consequentialist’s – especially since Aristotle values bodily
activity less than pursuits like friendship and philosophical contemplation. How
significant is the comparatively small kernel of moral value at the heart of a
physical enhancement? In certain contexts, it may prove decisive. Since
physical enhancements are usually thought to confer only competitive or
positional benefit, it’s generally recognized that a physical enhancement
received by everyone becomes “self-defeating” (Brock 1998, 60). If
Tom becomes much stronger than Dick, the thinking goes, he’ll gain some
advantages. He’ll be able to defend himself better; if he works with his hands,
he’ll be more likely to get hired; maybe he’ll enjoy the respect and praise of
Harry for being impressively superior. If Dick and Harry and everyone else become
as strong as Tom, what good does Tom’s strength do him? None, if the good is
merely positional. The moral landscape looks identical whether everyone is
equally strong or equally weak, and the resources squandered to regain equality
after the first enhancement are essentially wasted. On balance, it would have
been better for everyone to stay weak.
An evolved Aristotelian theory begs to
differ. From this Aristotelian perspective, everyone with an increased level of
physical strength is capable of better executing functions proper to human
beings, and thereby capable of achieving greater moral excellence. Far from
hemorrhaging benefit as they spread through populations, many of these
allegedly “self-defeating” enhancements would only make more and more people
better. A world of equally strong, capable human beings is, ceteris paribus, morally superior to a
world of equally weak, inept human beings. This means that if the
psychological, social, economic, and medical drawbacks of an enhancement are
negligible, availing ourselves of it may become a moral obligation – especially
if the expanded capacity cannot be obtained otherwise. Aristotle does value
hard-won excellence more than what comes easily, so he finds greater moral
worth in ability earned by physical exercise than in ability gained by
effortless enhancement. Such a view credits additional moral excellence to
those people who struggle through diseases like cancer or genetic obesity to
expand such capacities as strength and speed, but the possibility of morally
obligatory enhancement remains.
Kicking
the tires
Two questions naturally arise here. First,
we might wonder what an Aristotelian theory says about the moral standing of
people with physical disabilities. Calling some people more fully human than others
is bound to raise some eyebrows. But because even an inclusive Aristotle unambiguously
identifies the mind as much more ethically relevant than the body, his theory
offers ample room for people with physical disabilities to lead morally
excellent lives.19 Take
astrophysicist Stephen Hawking as an example. Having lived a brilliantly successful
life of the mind, in spite of all the hardships that attend his disability,
Hawking stands out as a shining example of Aristotelian human excellence. Aristotle
is commonsensical about physical disability, noting that unqualified happiness
(eudaimonia) requires the good
fortune of external blessings such as ability, health, and physical beauty. Yes,
an able-bodied and strong Stephen Hawking would be better-off, and would closer
approximate the ideal human being. But intellectual achievement is better than
physical, and becomes more valuable as it becomes more difficult to attain. Successful
struggle against disability may allow an individual to gain back the moral
standing their disability has taken away, and perhaps even become better than
they could have been otherwise. Like the “liberal eugenics” proposed by
Buchanan, Brock, Daniels, and Wikler (Buchanan et. al. 2001, 278), Aristotelian
ethics devalues physical disability, not the disabled.20
A
second question that arises here is just how far the moral imperative to
enhancement extends. Aristotle locates many virtues at the mean between two
extremes, such as courage between cowardice and rashness (NE III.7.1115b24-1116a7). Is it possible to go too far with
physical enhancement, to become too fast or too strong? The answer seems to be
no, not per se. That is, not as long
as nothing else is damaged or inhibited by increasing physical ability. An
inclusivist theory must keep in mind all the goods of human life, and take care
that these are not sold off or unduly marginalized in the pursuit of strength
or any other single good. Beauty is a fraught topic, but if it’s included in
the list of human goods, and if increased strength requires increased muscle
mass, we would have to ask at some point whether the tradeoff for a certain
level of strength is worth looking like a hulking freak. Similarly, if gaining
strength requires investment of time and money, there is a limit beyond which
we will become destitute, socially bankrupt, morally culpable meatheads. Aristotle
also cautions that great blessings of physical excellence are often too much
weight for a person’s character to bear, and can make one rash and haughty (Eudemian Ethics VIII.3.1248b25-31; NE I.3.1094b19-20; Rhet. II.5.1383a3-8; Politics
IV.11.1295b6-9). We should seek only as much strength as our characters can
sustain.
But if some cybernetic enhancement could
be done with minimal damage to appearance and any other goods – if our
character can hold up to it, if the financial and social costs are negligible,
the health risks minuscule, etc. – then it would seem that there exists a moral
obligation to undergo the procedure, and become a better human being.
Given that an evolved Aristotelian ethics
is rooted in a conception of proper human function, what can we say about an
extreme enhancement that would leave enhanced individuals somehow less
recognizable as being human? If some humans gained the ability to run one-hour
marathons, or deadlift SUVs, they would still be executing recognizably human
functions – they would just be performing them to a standard previously thought
impossible. But what if we could conquer the physiological processes of aging,
leaving ourselves effectively immortal? Or give ourselves literal wings to fly?
In contrast to boosted strength and running speed – capacities that seem
obviously proper to humans – enhancements like these seem alien to our nature.
Still, the fact that they’re hard to fit
into a framework of human function doesn’t necessarily make them undesirable. Aristotle
brands existence intrinsically good, and death intrinsically bad (EN IX.9.1170a20-21). He also says that
the very best imaginable fate for a human being would be to become a god (EN VIII.7.1159a8). Conquering the
limitations of human nature is intuitively desirable to Aristotle as it is to
us. Who really wants to age and die? Even so, the uneasiness that many of us
feel over the prospect of such obviously “unnatural” enhancements deserves
consideration. Insofar as we shake off the bonds of our nature, we would weaken
the foundations of Aristotelian ethics as an authoritative moral system. Rules
for human excellence may not apply to a transhuman species. If such dramatic
enhancements became feasible, we would need to proceed with caution.
There is plenty to debate, of course,
over whether Aristotle’s paradigm is the best moral system we have now. This
paper is too short to engage in much of it, but to bolster the plausibility of the
Aristotelian contribution to enhancement ethics, I will note that its valuation
of bodily excellence accords with some of our own intuitions, although we do
not routinely brand these intuitions “moral.” We share feelings of awe and approbation
at the sheer ability on display in nature’s strongest, swiftest, most capable
creatures. Think of the cultural currency in images of Michael Jordan leaping
from the free-throw line for a slam dunk, or a cheetah in full sprint, legs a
crossed blur beneath it, or a hunting lion, sinews rippling as it pulls down
some hapless beast. We just don’t feel the same way about couch potatoes,
sloths and sea cucumbers.21 Our intuitive
regard for capability may be behind some of the public uproar over a 2012
article by Liao, Sandberg and Roache.22 The article
suggests various ways to minimize humanity’s eco-footprint, including
engineering people to be 25 per cent smaller by volume (2012, 214). Intentionally
engineering humans to be smaller, and therefore weaker and
less capable, strikes many of us as somehow sinisterly dystopian. Aristotelian ethics
brands such engineering intrinsically immoral and offers a systematic
explanation why, giving our intuitive horror a logical voice.23
Conclusion
This paper is not intended to persuade
its readers that an evolved Aristotelian ethical theory is true. A verdict on such
a theory’s plausibility would require extended treatment of the controversies
and possible problems I have noted along the way. This paper is primarily
intended to present a new vantage point for looking at one small piece of the
moral world, and to show how such a shift in ethical viewpoint can change what
we see there. If the ethical paradigms most popular in bioethics today are
round holes, the concept of moral value inherent in physical activity is a
square peg. It doesn’t make sense, and so we haven’t thought much about it. Reaching
all the way back to Aristotle, we can find the foundations of a paradigm that
allows for very different thinking.
Every popular ethical framework has its
own problems. Until we find a perfect theory, we will continue to debate the
merits of the ones we know, and the debate can only be aided and expanded by
consideration of new ideas, even when they come from old philosophers.
Notes
1. Such an Aristotelian theory, especially insofar as it is
naturalistic, lives or dies with the plausibility of some controversial
assumptions and entailments. There is no room to decide all relevant disputes
in the present paper, but I point them out as potential problems where
appropriate.
2.
Throughout the paper, I will cite Aristotle by work, book, chapter, and the
Bekker numbers of TLG’s Greek text. All quotations of Aristotle are my own
translations.
3. Jörn
Müller references “die immer noch virulente Debatte über den Charakter der εὐδαιμονία” (2003, 540) and Jon Miller
agrees that it is an “enduring exegetical problem” (2011, 16).
4.
See Nagel 1980 for a brief introduction to the problem, Ackrill 1980 for an
inclusivist case, Kraut 1989 for an intellectualist case, and Gauthier and
Jolif 1958 for a contradictionist case.
5.
Despite the potentially inclusive title, Fröding deliberately restricts her
treatment to cognitive enhancement (2012, xiii and xvi).
6.
At NE I.12.1101b15-18, Aristotle
appears to endorse physical capacities for strength and running ability as
“good and valuable.” Gerard Hughes (2001, 130) holds that this is “clearly not
a moral assessment,” but passages like Rhetoric
I.7.1363b8-1364a2, where Aristotle says physical strength is good in
itself, and Physics VII.2.246b6,
where strength is again identified as an excellence, muddy the waters. The
plausibility of 1101b15-18 being a moral assessment seems to depend on how
inclusively we interpret Aristotle on eudaimonia.
Since “fine actions express moral excellence” (NE X.8.1179a4-6), physical activity could well qualify.
7.
Beauty is also classed as a physical excellence (Rhet. I.5.1360b25-26), but an examination of cosmetic enhancement
would call for forays into aesthetics, psychology and anthropology, and so
falls outside the scope of this paper.
8.
Politics VII.3.1338a21; NE II.2.1104a15; Magna Moralia I.5.1185b14-20; Problems
II.5.867a1-3, XIX.38.921a1-2. Note that Magna
Moralia and Problems are of
questionable authorship.
9.
Given that Aristotle’s ethics center on value inherent to activity (energeia), how can strength, a mere
capacity (dunamis), be intrinsically
good? The answer may lie in Aristotle’s metaphysics. For Aristotle, the
activity of exercising physical strength is ontologically and temporally prior
to the capacity. “Accordingly, it seems impossible to be a builder if one hasn’t
built anything, or a harpist if one hasn’t played anything” (Metaphysics Θ.8.1049b30-31). In his
commentary on Metaphysics Θ, Stephen Makin writes:
[Aristotle]
cites as an accepted fact that in lots of cases someone learns to φ by
φ-ing…from which it follows that it will be impossible to be an expert
φ-er if one has never φ-ed (1049b29–31). And that constitutes direct
confirmation of the claim that actuality is temporally prior to potentiality.
12.
The moral-amoral line may also be a problem – see note 15 below.
13.
On facing this challenge and related ones, Scott James writes (2011, 207):
The updated Aristotelian can either abandon the
idea that morality has… normative force or promise to show that biology can
supply it. The first choice looks drastic. The second choice is but an
unfulfilled promise. At best, a naturalized virtue ethic is a work in progress.
14.
Marcus Hester takes it to be generally agreed (“though perhaps not true”) that
“
15.
The wide scope of this prescription indicates how moral-amoral distinctions can
become blurred in Aristotelian theory. A Function Argument-type approach could
potentially bestow moral excellence on any organism which well exemplifies its
kind’s proper activities. Are we prepared to grant moral approbation to an
especially swift horse? What about a particularly sticky limpet? (Establishing
which functions are proper to which organisms is, of course, yet another
fraught enterprise.) The breadth of ancient usage of the word arete (usually translated as “virtue” or
“excellence”) illustrates the point. Even soil is remarked as having arete (Thucydides I.4; Strabo Geography XVII.3.21), namely fertility. The
Aristotelian ethicist must either find convincing grounds for drawing an amoral
line in advance of dirt, or convince doubters that dirt can indeed be morally
excellent.
16.
Criticizing bioethical principlism, David Seedhouse writes (2009, 99):
Beauchamp,
Childress and Gillon have got it lamentably wrong. Nebulous principles generally
acceptable to well-heeled Western liberals do no more than offer conclusions:
(a) open to wide interpretation; and (b) acceptable only to those who agree
with them in the first place[.]
17.
And before it is exercised, it is questionable whether the capacity can be
claimed at all, certainly as far as its moral value is concerned. See note 9
above.
18.
Eugene Garver writes (2006, 64) that “[t]he world-class athlete who has the
virtue of running fast, but who does so through a regimen of drugs, has not put
his body in good condition,” but an Aristotelian theory need not share his
blanket prejudice against pharmacological enhancement. If the drugs are
attended by damage that outweighs the benefit of increased capability, as in
the case of PCP, then of course they ought not be used. If there were no
appreciable side effects, however, it’s hard to see how an Aristotelian theory
could condemn their use.
20.
The relevant point made by Buchanan and his colleagues is that, as they put it,
“We devalue disabilities because we value the opportunities and welfare of the
people who have them.” See Agar 2004 for a much broader defense of what its
author refers to as “liberal eugenics.”
21.
Justly or not, the abilities we have the most intuitive regard for are the ones
we can identify with, such as strength and speed. No doubt sea cucumbers have
various abilities that are brilliantly adapted to a life of squiggling around
on the ocean floor, but few of us are much impressed.
22.
See Hickman (2012) for an example of the uproar.
23. Of course, the
caveat must be added that, if anthropogenic climate change is regarded as a
sufficiently dire threat to humanity’s future, an Aristotelian theory can allow
endorsement of human dys-engineering as a lesser evil than extinction.
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