im钱包官方下载|ethics of his conduct

作者： im钱包官方下载

2024-03-14 20:35:42

历年真题经典长难句解析（八） - 知乎

历年真题经典长难句解析（八） - 知乎首发于管理类联考切换模式写文章登录/注册历年真题经典长难句解析（八）雪米米考研废人But it did so while holding its nose at the ethics of his conduct, which included accepting gifts such as a Rolex watch and a Ferrari automobile from a company seeking access to government. 1.重点词汇及短语： ethics n.道德标准 conduct n.行为，举动 automobile n. 汽车 access n. 机会;权力 Rolex watch劳力士手表 Ferrari automobile法拉利汽车 2.句子成分分析：本句是一个复合句。句子的主干是：it did so 。it 是句子的主语，did是谓语动词，so是宾语。while引导伴随状语while holding its nose at the ethics of his conduct，主干为(it was)holding its nose...his conduct。which 引导宾语从句，其先行词为conduct，举例说明违背了道德标准的具体行为which included accepting gifts such as a Rolex watch and a Ferrari automobile from a company seeking access to government。seeking access to government为a company的后置定语。while引导状语从句时，如果主句和从句的主语一致,且从句谓语又含有be，则从句中有时可省略主语和be, while后可以直接跟现在分词、过去分词、名词、形容词或介词短语。 3.参考译文：最高法院这样做了，但它同时对他的行为的道德标准表示嗤之以鼻，他的行为包括从一家寻求接近政府的公司那里接受项劳力士手表和法拉利汽车等礼物。发布于 2019-10-23 17:33考研英语管理类联考会计专业硕士赞同添加评论分享喜欢收藏申请转载文章被以下专栏收录管理

Ethics | Definition, History, Examples, Types, Philosophy, & Facts | Britannica

Search Britannica

Click here to search

Search Britannica

Click here to search

Home

Games & Quizzes

History & Society

Science & Tech

Biographies

Animals & Nature

Geography & Travel

Arts & Culture

Money

Videos

On This Day

One Good Fact

Dictionary

New Articles

History & Society

Lifestyles & Social Issues

Philosophy & Religion

Politics, Law & Government

World History

Science & Tech

Health & Medicine

Science

Technology

Biographies

Browse Biographies

Animals & Nature

Birds, Reptiles & Other Vertebrates

Bugs, Mollusks & Other Invertebrates

Environment

Fossils & Geologic Time

Mammals

Plants

Geography & Travel

Arts & Culture

Entertainment & Pop Culture

Literature

Sports & Recreation

Visual Arts

Companions

Demystified

Image Galleries

Infographics

Lists

Podcasts

Spotlights

Summaries

The Forum

Top Questions

#WTFact

100 Women

Britannica Kids

Saving Earth

Space Next 50

Student Center

Home

Games & Quizzes

History & Society

Science & Tech

Biographies

Animals & Nature

Geography & Travel

Arts & Culture

Money

Videos

ethics

Table of Contents

ethics

Table of Contents

Introduction & Top QuestionsThe origins of ethicsMythical accountsIntroduction of moral codesProblems of divine originPrehuman ethicsNonhuman behaviourKinship and reciprocityAnthropology and ethicsThe history of Western ethicsAncient civilizations to the end of the 19th centuryThe ancient Middle East and AsiaThe Middle EastIndiaChinaAncient and Classical GreeceAncient GreeceSocratesPlatoAristotleLater Greek and Roman ethicsThe StoicsThe EpicureansChristian ethics from the New Testament to the ScholasticsEthics in the New TestamentSt. AugustineSt. Thomas Aquinas and the ScholasticsThe Renaissance and the ReformationMachiavelliThe first ProtestantsThe British tradition from Hobbes to the utilitariansHobbesEarly intuitionists: Cudworth, More, and ClarkeShaftesbury and the moral sense schoolButler on self-interest and conscienceThe climax of moral sense theory: Hutcheson and HumeThe intuitionist response: Price and ReidUtilitarianismPaleyBenthamMillSidgwickThe Continental tradition from Spinoza to NietzscheSpinozaLeibnizRousseauKantHegelMarxNietzscheWestern ethics from the beginning of the 20th centuryMetaethicsMoore and the naturalistic fallacyModern intuitionismEmotivismExistentialismUniversal prescriptivismLater developments in metaethicsMoral realismKantian constructivism: a middle ground?Irrealist views: projectivism and expressivismEthics and reasons for actionNormative ethicsThe debate over consequentialismVarieties of consequentialismObjections to consequentialismAn ethics of prima facie dutiesRawls’s theory of justiceRights theoriesNatural law ethicsVirtue ethicsFeminist ethicsEthical egoismApplied ethicsEqualityAnimalsEnvironmental ethicsWar and peaceAbortion, euthanasia, and the value of human lifeBioethics

References & Edit History

Quick Facts & Related Topics

Images

For Students

ethics summary

Top Questions

What is ethics?The term ethics may refer to the philosophical study of the concepts of moral right and wrong and moral good and bad, to any philosophical theory of what is morally right and wrong or morally good and bad, and to any system or code of moral rules, principles, or values. The last may be associated with particular religions, cultures, professions, or virtually any other group that is at least partly characterized by its moral outlook.How is ethics different from morality?Traditionally, ethics referred to the philosophical study of morality, the latter being a more or less systematic set of beliefs, usually held in common by a group, about how people should live. Ethics also referred to particular philosophical theories of morality. Later the term was applied to particular (and narrower) moral codes or value systems. Ethics and morality are now used almost interchangeably in many contexts, but the name of the philosophical study remains ethics.Why does ethics matter?Ethics matters because (1) it is part of how many groups define themselves and thus part of the identity of their individual members, (2) other-regarding values in most ethical systems both reflect and foster close human relationships and mutual respect and trust, and (3) it could be “rational” for a self-interested person to be moral, because his or her self-interest is arguably best served in the long run by reciprocating the moral behaviour of others.Is ethics a social science?No. Understood as equivalent to morality, ethics could be studied as a social-psychological or historical phenomenon, but in that case it would be an object of social-scientific study, not a social science in itself. Understood as the philosophical study of moral concepts, ethics is a branch of philosophy, not of social science.ethics, the discipline concerned with what is morally good and bad and morally right and wrong. The term is also applied to any system or theory of moral values or principles.(Read Britannica’s biography of this author, Peter Singer.)How should we live? Shall we aim at happiness or at knowledge, virtue, or the creation of beautiful objects? If we choose happiness, will it be our own or the happiness of all? And what of the more particular questions that face us: is it right to be dishonest in a good cause? Can we justify living in opulence while elsewhere in the world people are starving? Is going to war justified in cases where it is likely that innocent people will be killed? Is it wrong to clone a human being or to destroy human embryos in medical research? What are our obligations, if any, to the generations of humans who will come after us and to the nonhuman animals with whom we share the planet?Ethics deals with such questions at all levels. Its subject consists of the fundamental issues of practical decision making, and its major concerns include the nature of ultimate value and the standards by which human actions can be judged right or wrong.The terms ethics and morality are closely related. It is now common to refer to ethical judgments or to ethical principles where it once would have been more accurate to speak of moral judgments or moral principles. These applications are an extension of the meaning of ethics. In earlier usage, the term referred not to morality itself but to the field of study, or branch of inquiry, that has morality as its subject matter. In this sense, ethics is equivalent to moral philosophy.Although ethics has always been viewed as a branch of philosophy, its all-embracing practical nature links it with many other areas of study, including anthropology, biology, economics, history, politics, sociology, and theology. Yet, ethics remains distinct from such disciplines because it is not a matter of factual knowledge in the way that the sciences and other branches of inquiry are. Rather, it has to do with determining the nature of normative theories and applying these sets of principles to practical moral problems.

Get a Britannica Premium subscription and gain access to exclusive content.

Subscribe Now

This article, then, will deal with ethics as a field of philosophy, especially as it has developed in the West. For coverage of religious conceptions of ethics and the ethical systems associated with world religions, see Buddhism; Christianity; Confucianism; Hinduism; Jainism; Judaism; Sikhism. The origins of ethics Mythical accounts Introduction of moral codes When did ethics begin and how did it originate? If one has in mind ethics proper—i.e., the systematic study of what is morally right and wrong—it is clear that ethics could have come into existence only when human beings started to reflect on the best way to live. This reflective stage emerged long after human societies had developed some kind of morality, usually in the form of customary standards of right and wrong conduct. The process of reflection tended to arise from such customs, even if in the end it may have found them wanting. Accordingly, ethics began with the introduction of the first moral codes. Virtually every human society has some form of myth to explain the origin of morality. In the Louvre in Paris there is a black Babylonian column with a relief showing the sun god Shamash presenting the code of laws to Hammurabi (died c. 1750 bce), known as the Code of Hammurabi. The Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) account of God’s giving the Ten Commandments to Moses (flourished 14th–13th century bce) on Mount Sinai might be considered another example. In the dialogue Protagoras by Plato (428/427–348/347 bce), there is an avowedly mythical account of how Zeus took pity on the hapless humans, who were physically no match for the other beasts. To make up for these deficiencies, Zeus gave humans a moral sense and the capacity for law and justice, so that they could live in larger communities and cooperate with one another. That morality should be invested with all the mystery and power of divine origin is not surprising. Nothing else could provide such strong reasons for accepting the moral law. By attributing a divine origin to morality, the priesthood became its interpreter and guardian and thereby secured for itself a power that it would not readily relinquish. This link between morality and religion has been so firmly forged that it is still sometimes asserted that there can be no morality without religion. According to this view, ethics is not an independent field of study but rather a branch of theology (see moral theology).

There is some difficulty, already known to Plato, with the view that morality was created by a divine power. In his dialogue Euthyphro, Plato considered the suggestion that it is divine approval that makes an action good. Plato pointed out that, if this were the case, one could not say that the gods approve of such actions because they are good. Why then do they approve of them? Is their approval entirely arbitrary? Plato considered this impossible and so held that there must be some standards of right or wrong that are independent of the likes and dislikes of the gods. Modern philosophers have generally accepted Plato’s argument, because the alternative implies that if, for example, the gods had happened to approve of torturing children and to disapprove of helping one’s neighbours, then torture would have been good and neighbourliness bad.

Plato’s Ethics: An Overview (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)

Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Browse

Table of Contents

What's New

Random Entry

Chronological

Archives

About

Editorial Information

About the SEP

Editorial Board

How to Cite the SEP

Special Characters

Advanced Tools

Contact

Support SEP

Support the SEP

PDFs for SEP Friends

Make a Donation

SEPIA for Libraries

Entry Navigation

Entry Contents

Bibliography

Academic Tools

Friends PDF Preview

Author and Citation Info

Plato’s Ethics: An OverviewFirst published Tue Sep 16, 2003; substantive revision Wed Feb 1, 2023

Like most other ancient philosophers, Plato maintains a virtue-based

eudaemonistic conception of ethics. That is to say, happiness or

well-being (eudaimonia) is the highest aim of moral thought

and conduct, and the virtues (aretê:

‘excellence’) are the dispositions/skills needed to attain

it. If Plato’s conception of happiness is elusive and his

support for a morality of happiness seems somewhat subdued, there are

several reasons. First, he nowhere defines the concept of happiness

nor makes it the direct target of investigation but introduces it in

an oblique way in the pursuit of other questions. Second, the

treatment of the human good varies in the different dialogues, so that

readers find themselves confronted with the problem of what to make of

the discrepancies between different works. This touches on a

fundamental problem with Plato’s work – namely, whether to

follow a ‘unitarian’, ‘revisionist’, or

‘developmentalist’ approach to his writings. Whereas

unitarians regard the dialogues as pieces of one mosaic and take the

view that Plato, in essence, maintains a unified doctrine from his

earliest to his latest works, revisionists maintain that Plato’s

thought underwent a fundamental transformation later in his life,

while ‘developmentalists’ hold that Plato’s views

evolved significantly throughout his career. While revisionism has

lost its impact in recent years, developmentalism has gained in

influence. Although there is no unanimity, few unitarians nowadays

deny that the character of Plato’s early, middle, and late works

differs in style, language, scope, and content, as is to be expected

in a philosopher who was at work for more than fifty years. Most

developmentalists, in turn, agree that it is impossible to line up

Plato’s works like pearls on a string and to reconstruct his

progress from dialogue to dialogue; where the views expressed in

different dialogues seem to disagree, there may be complementation or

supplementation at work, rather than divergence. Given that Plato

never speaks in his own voice, it is important to take note of who the

interlocutors are and what role is assigned to Socrates, if he is the

main speaker. Plato’s dialogues should never be treated in

isolation when it comes to the reconstruction of his doctrine; but

even the comparison and contrasting of ideas presented in different

dialogues is not a safe recipe for interpreting this elusive

thinker’s views (for a more detailed discussion see the entry on

Plato).

Plato’s so-called ‘Socratic’ dialogues share certain

characteristics as a group. They are short interrogations by Socrates

of the kind indicated in his explanation of his divine mission in the

Apology. They seem designed, inter alia, to undermine

unquestioned traditional views and values rather than to develop

positive accounts. The positive accounts contained in the middle, the

so-called ‘Platonic’, dialogues – that are grouped

around the Republic – treat happiness in different ways

as a state of perfection in a moral as well as in an intellectual

sense. The exact nature of this state of mind is not easy to pinpoint,

however, because it is based on metaphysical presuppositions that are,

at least prima facie, both hazy and out of the realm of ordinary

understanding. There is not, as there is in Aristotle, an explicit

determination of happiness as the actualization of one’s best

potential in a well-organized community. Instead, at least in some

texts, Plato’s moral ideals appear both austere and

self-abnegating: The soul is to remain aloof from the pleasures of the

body in the pursuit of higher knowledge, while communal life demands

the subordination of individual wishes and aims to the common

good.

The difficulties of assessing Plato’s ethical thought are

compounded by the fact that the metaphysical underpinnings seem to

change during his long life. In the Socratic dialogues, there are no

indications that the search for virtue and the human good goes beyond

the human realm. This changes in the middle dialogues that show a

growing interest in an all-encompassing metaphysical grounding of

knowledge, a development that leads to the positing of the

‘Forms’ as the determinants of the true nature of all

things, culminating in the Form of the Good as the transcendent

principle of all goodness. Though the theory of the Forms is not

confined to human values but encompasses the whole of nature, Plato, in

the middle dialogues, seems to assume no more than an analogy between

human affairs and cosmic harmony. The late dialogues, by contrast,

display an increasing tendency to assume a unity of the microcosm of

human life and the macrocosmic order of the entire universe, a

tendency that is displayed most fully in the Philebus and the

Timaeus. While these holistic tendencies appeal to the

imagination because they rely on harmonic relations expressed in

mathematical proportions, the metaphysical status of the Forms is even

harder to make out in the late dialogues than in the middle dialogues.

Though Plato’s late works do not show any willingness to lower

the standards of knowledge as such, Plato indicates that his design of

a rational cosmic order is based on conjecture and speculation, an

acknowledgment that finds its counterpart in his more pragmatic

treatment of ethical standards and political institutions in his last

political work, the Laws.

1. Preliminaries

2. The early dialogues: Examining life

2.1 The aporetic procedure

2.2 The quest for definition

3. The middle dialogues: Justice and other virtues

3.1 Human nature and its needs

3.2 Virtues of state and soul

3.3 The desire for self-perfection

3.4 The quest for method

4. The late dialogues: Ethics and cosmology

4.1 Harmony and cosmic goodness

4.2 Measure for measure

Glossary

Bibliography

Translations

Single-Authored Overviews

Anthologies

Problems of chronology

Studies on Plato’s dialogues

Academic Tools

Other Internet Resources

Related Entries

1. Preliminaries

If ethics is widely regarded as the most accessible branch of

philosophy, it is so because many of its presuppositions are,

seemingly, self-evident or trivial truths: All human actions, for

example, serve some end or purpose; whether they are right or wrong

depends on the agent’s overall aims. At least for secularists,

the attainment of these overall aims is regarded as a major condition

of the good life. What we regard as a life worth living also depends

on the notion we have of our own nature and of the conditions of its

fulfillment. This, in turn, is determined, at least in part, by the

values and standards of the society we live in. Personal ends and

purposes depend in each case not only on reason, but also on the

individual agents’ dispositions (i.e., their ingrained likes and

dislikes, which determine their personal character). The attainment of

these ends can also depend at least in part on external factors, such

as health, material prosperity, social status, and even on good looks

or sheer luck.

Although these presuppositions may seem self-evident, most of the time,

human beings are aware of them only implicitly because they lead

their lives in accordance with pre-established standards and values

that are, under normal circumstances, not objects of reflection. It is

only in times of crisis that a society’s traditions and precepts

are challenged by someone like Socrates, who sees the need to disturb

his fellows’ complacency. The historical Socrates was, of

course, not the first to question the Greek way of life. Presocratic

philosophers such as Xenophanes, Heraclitus, or Empedocles had been

critics of their times, and the sophists had argued provocatively

that, contrary to the naïve view, it is custom and convention,

rather than nature that set the standards for what is deemed right or

wrong, good or bad, in every society. But if other thinkers preceded

Socrates with moral and social criticism, he was certainly the first

to challenge his fellows on an individual basis on the ground that

‘the unexamined life is not worth living’ (Ap.

38a). Whatever position one may take in the controversy concerning the

degree to which Plato’s early dialogues are true to the

historical Socrates’ discussions, the independent testimony of

Xenophon leaves little doubt that Socrates’ cross-examinations

(elenchos) provoked the kind of enmity against him that led

to his conviction and execution. In the eyes of conservative

Athenians, Socrates’ questioning undermined the traditional

values of their society. As Socrates saw it, the ‘virtues’

– which is to say the social skills, attitudes, and

character-traits possessed by most Athenian citizens of his time

– were all too often geared towards their possessors’

wealth, power, and capacities for self-indulgence, to the detriment of

public morality and the community’s well-being (see the entry on

Socrates).

The Socratic legacy prompted Plato to engage in a thorough examination

of the nature of knowledge and reality, an examination that gradually

took him far beyond the scope of the historical Socrates’

discussions. Nevertheless, Plato continued to present most of his

investigations as dialogues between Socrates and some partner or

partners. And Plato preserved the dialogical form even in those of his

late works where Socrates is replaced by a stand-in and where the

didactic nature of the presentations is hard to reconcile with the

pretense of live discussion. But these didactic discourses continue to

combine questions of ethical, political, social, or psychological

importance with metaphysical, methodological, and epistemological

considerations. And it can be hard to assess the extent to which Plato

agrees with the pronouncements of his speakers, whether that speaker

is Socrates or anyone else. Furthermore, the fact that a certain

ethical problem or its solution is not mentioned in a certain dialogue

does not mean that Plato was unaware of it. There is, therefore, no

certainty concerning the question: “What did Plato see and when

did he first see it?” The lack of information about the order in

which Plato wrote his works adds to this difficulty. It stands to

reason, however, that he started with the short dialogues that

question traditional virtues – wisdom, courage, justice,

moderation, piety. It also stands to reason that Plato gradually

widened the scope of his investigations by reflecting not only on the

social and political conditions of morality but also on the logical,

epistemological, and metaphysical presuppositions of a successful

moral theory. These theoretical reflections often take on a life of

their own. Several of Plato’s later works address ethical

problems only marginally or not at all. The Parmenides, the

Theaetetus, and the Sophist deal primarily or

exclusively with epistemological and metaphysical problems of a quite

general nature. Nevertheless, as witnessed by the Philebus,

the Statesman, the Timaeus, and the Laws,

Plato never lost interest in the question of the conditions of the

good human life.

2. The early dialogues: Examining life

2.1 The aporetic procedure

The early ‘Socratic’ dialogues are not concerned with the

question of the good life and its conditions in general but rather

with particular virtues. Socrates explores these virtues through

discussions with persons who are regarded either as representatives

of, or claim to be experts on, that virtue. Socrates’

justification for this procedure is that a paragon or expert must know

the property that characterizes his particular virtue and must,

therefore, be able to give an account or definition of it (cf. Xenophon

Memorabilia I, 10; 16). Thus, in the Euthyphro,

Socrates discusses piety/holiness with an alleged ‘expert’

on religious affairs. In the Laches, he discusses courage

with two renowned generals in the Peloponnesian war, Laches and

Nicias. Similarly, in the Charmides, Socrates

addresses – somewhat ironically – the nature of moderation

with two of the later Thirty Tyrants, namely with the then very young

Charmides, an alleged model of modesty, and his guardian and

intellectual mentor, Critias. In the Greater Hippias, Socrates

raises the question of the nature of the beautiful with a producer of

‘beautiful things’, the sophist and polymath Hippias. In

the Protagoras, Socrates focuses on the question of the unity

of virtue in a discussion with Protagoras, the most famous teacher of

‘civic virtues’ among the sophists. And in the

Gorgias, Socrates discusses the nature of rhetoric and its

relation to virtue with the most prominent teacher of rhetoric among

the sophists. Finally, in the Meno, the question of how virtue

as such is acquired is raised by Meno, a disciple of Gorgias and an

ambitious seeker of power, wealth, and fame, who later met a gruesome

death in Persia in the pursuit of those very values.

Socrates’ interlocutors are usually, at first, quite confident

about their own competence in the discussion. And such confidence

is not unreasonable. If virtue is a kind of ‘skill’ or a special

property that enjoys general recognition, its possessor should know

and be able to give an account of that skill or proficiency. As

Socrates’ examinations demonstrate, however, such

self-confidence is usually unfounded, and the ‘knowledge’

professed by Socrates’ partners is revealed to be, at best, an

implicit familiarity. When they are confronted with their inability to

explain the nature of their cherished virtue or expertise, they end up

admitting their ignorance, but often with considerable chagrin or

anger (on the ‘Socratic’ dialogues, see the entry in

SEP Plato’s Shorter Ethical Works by

Paul Woodruff). Socrates’ purpose in conducting these sometimes

cruel-looking games is not just to undermine the false confidence of

his interlocutors but also to pave the way towards general

definitions and standards concerning the virtues. There were no widely

acknowledged standards of definition in Socrates’ time, but by

exposing the flaws in his partners’ abortive arguments in his

investigations, Socrates contributed significantly to the development

of such standards. The respective flaws vary greatly in kind and

gravity: Socrates shows that enumerations of examples are not

sufficient to capture the nature or essence of the virtue in question.

Definitions that consist in the replacement of the concept in question

with a synonym are open to the same objections as the original

definition. Definitions may be hopelessly vague or miss the mark

entirely, which is to say that they may be either too wide and include

unwanted characteristics or subsets, or too narrow so that they

exclude essential characteristics. Moreover, definitions may be

incomplete because the object in question does not constitute a

unitary phenomenon. If generally accepted ‘social

excellences’ are not simple conditions, they may be subject to

conflicting convictions. Examples of all these problems are provided

in Plato’s early dialogues, where Socrates exposes the exact

nature of the underlying deficiencies with more or less diagnostic

transparency.

Given that the focus in the early dialogues is almost entirely on the

exposure of flaws and inconsistencies, one cannot help wondering

whether Plato himself knew the answers to his queries and

had some cards up his sleeve that he chose not to play for the time

being. This would presuppose that Plato had not only a clear notion of

the nature of the different virtues but also a definitive conception

of the good life as such. Since Plato was neither a moral nihilist nor

a sceptic, he cannot have regarded moral perplexity (aporia)

as the ultimate end, nor regarded continued mutual examination,

Socratico more, as a way of life for everyone. Perplexity, as

is argued in the Meno, is just a wholesome intermediary stage

on the way to knowledge (Me. 84a–b). But if Plato

assumes that the convictions that survive Socratic questioning will

eventually coalesce into a coherent account of the good life, then he

keeps this expectation to himself. Nor would such optimism seem

warranted, given Socrates’ disavowal of knowledge. There is no

guarantee that only false convictions are refuted in a Socratic

cross-examination, while true ones are retained – for promising

suggestions are often as mercilessly discarded as their less promising

brethren. Perhaps Plato counted on his readers’ intelligence to

straighten out what is skewed in Socratic refutations, as well as to

detect unfair moves and to supplement what is missing. It is, in

fact, often not difficult to make out problematic or fallacious moves

in Socrates’ argument and to correct them, but such corrections

must remain incomplete without sufficient information about

Plato’s overall conception of the good life and its moral

presuppositions at that point in time. It is, therefore, a matter of

conjecture whether Plato himself held any positive views while he

composed one aporetic dialogue after the other. He may have regarded

his investigations as experimental stages or have seen each dialogue

as an element in a network of approaches that he hoped to integrate

eventually.

If there is a general lesson to be drawn from the many failed accounts

of the virtues by Socrates’ different partners, beyond the

particular shortcomings of individual definitions and assertions, it

is that isolated definitions of single virtues, summed up in one

sentence, will not do. The evidence that Plato wanted his readers to

draw this very conclusion already in his early dialogues is somewhat

contradictory, however. He famously pleads for the unity of the

virtues in the Protagoras and seems intent to reduce them

all to knowledge. Scholars are, therefore, wont to speak of the

‘intellectualistic’ character of the so-called

‘Socratic ethics’ because it leaves no room for other

motivational forces, such as desires and emotions. Socrates’

proof in the Protagoras that reason cannot be overcome by the

passions has, from Aristotle on, been treated as a denial of

akrasia, of the phenomenon that was later somewhat

misleadingly dubbed as ‘weakness of the will’. This

intellectualizing tendency does not tell us, however, what kind of

master-science would fulfill all of the requirements for defining

virtues, nor what its content should be. Moreover, the emphasis on

knowledge does not rule out an awareness on Plato’s part of the

importance of other factors, even in his early dialogues. Though Plato

often compares the virtues with technical skills, such as those of a

doctor or a pilot, he may have realized that virtues also involve

emotional attitudes, desires, and preferences but not yet have seen a

clear way to coordinate or combine the rational and the affective

elements that constitute the virtues. In the Laches, for

instance, Socrates’ partners struggle when they try to define

courage, invoking two different elements. In his attempt to define

courage as ‘steadfastness in battle’, Laches, one of the

two generals and ‘experts’ on courage, is faced with the

dilemma that steadfastness seems not to be a satisfactory definition

of courage either in itself or in combination with knowledge

(La. 192a–194c). His comrade Nicias, on the other hand,

fails when he tries to identify courage exclusively as a certain type

of knowledge (197e–200a). The investigation of moderation in the

Charmides, likewise, points up that there are two disparate

elements commonly associated with that virtue – namely, a

certain calmness of temper on the one hand (Chrm.

158e–160d) and self-knowledge on the other (166e–175a). It

is clear that a complex account would be needed to combine these two

disparate features, for moral skills not only presuppose sufficient

‘operative’ rationality but also require appropriate

evaluative and emotional attitudes towards the ends to be attained and

towards the means to be employed. Such an insight is at least

indicated in Socrates’ long and passionate argument in the

Gorgias against Polus and Callicles that the just life is

better for the soul of its possessor than the unjust life, an argument

that he fortifies with a mythical depiction of the soul’s reward

and punishment after death (523a–527e). But the nature of

justice, and what is required for the proper care of one’s soul,

is thereby illuminated only indirectly. For the most part,

Socrates’ interrogations focus on the incompatibility of his

interlocutors’ selfish aims with their more selfless and noble

tendencies. In his earlier dialogues, Plato may or may not already be

envisaging the kind of solution that he is going to present in the

Republic to the problem of the relationship between the

different virtues, with wisdom, the only purely intellectual virtue,

as their basis. Courage, moderation, and justice presuppose a certain

steadfastness of character as well as a harmony of purpose between the

disparate parts of the soul, but their goodness depends entirely on

the intellectual part of the soul, just as the virtue of the citizens

in the just state depends on the wisdom of the philosopher kings

(R. 428a–444e). The existence of ‘demotic’

virtues of character is thus acknowledged, but they are relegated to

second place (500d; 522a–b).

There are at least some indications that Plato already saw the need

for a holistic conception of the good life when he composed his

‘Socratic’ dialogues. At the end of the Laches,

he lets Nicias founder in his attempt to define courage as the

‘knowledge of what is to be feared and what should inspire

confidence’. Nicias is forced to admit that such knowledge

presupposes the knowledge of good and bad tout court

(La. 199c–e). In a different but related way, Socrates

alludes to a comprehensive knowledge at the end of the

Charmides. In his final refutation of Critias’

definition of moderation as ‘knowledge of knowledge’, he

urges that this type of knowledge is insufficient for the happy life

without the knowledge of good and bad (Chrm. 174b–e).

Pointing out what is wrong or missing in particular arguments is a far

cry from a philosophical conception of the ultimate good in human

life. But the fact that Plato insists on the shortcomings of a purely

‘technical’ conception of virtue suggests that he was at

least facing up to these problems. The discussion of the ‘unity

of the virtues’ in the Protagoras – regardless of

the probably intentionally unsatisfactory structure of its proofs

– confirms that Plato realized that a critique of the

inconsistencies implied in conventional values is insufficient to

justify such a unitary point of view. Nevertheless, the evidence that

Plato already had a unified conception of the good life in mind when

he wrote his earlier dialogues remains, at most, indirect.

2.2 The quest for definition

It may be helpful to begin with a consideration of the method of

ethical inquiry that Socrates is portrayed as using in the early

dialogues. A reflection on the meaning of Socrates’ quest for

definitions in the early dialogues suggests that Plato cannot have

been blind to the sterility of a purely negative way of argument, or

if he was blind at first, his blindness cannot have lasted long, for

Socrates’ quest for definitions has important consequences.

First and foremost, definitions presuppose that there is a definable

object; that is to say, it must have a stable nature. Nothing can be

defined that is of a variable nature. In addition, the object in

question must be a unitary phenomenon, even if its unity may be

complex. If definitions are to provide the basis of knowledge, they

require some kind of essentialism. This presupposition is indeed made

explicit in the Euthyphro, where Plato employs, for the first

time, the terminology that will be characteristic of his full-fledged

theory of Forms. In response to Euthyphro’s enumeration of

various examples of pious behavior, Socrates demands an account of

the one feature (Euthphr. 5d:

idea; 6d: eidos; 6e: paradeigma) that is

common to all cases of what is holy or pious. Despite this pregnant

terminology, few scholars nowadays hold that the Euthyphro

already presupposes transcendent Forms, in a realm of their own

– models that are only incompletely represented by their

representatives under material conditions. The terms eidos

and idea had preserved their original meaning of

‘look’ or ‘shape’ into the classical age, but

they were also often used in the more abstract sense of

‘form’, ‘sort’, ‘type’, or

‘kind’. No more than piety or holiness in the abstract

sense seems to be presupposed in the discussion of the

Euthyphro. There is, at any rate, no mention of any

separation of a sensible and an intelligible realm, let alone of an

existence of ‘the holy itself’, as a transcendent

entity.

The passage in the Euthyphro where Socrates asks Euthyphro to

identify the one feature that is common to all that is holy

or pious makes intelligible, however, the reason why Plato felt

encouraged to develop the conception of transcendent Forms. The

requisite unity and invariance of entities such as ‘the

holy’, ‘the beautiful’, ‘the just’, or

‘the equal’, necessarily prompts reflections on their

ontological status and on the appropriate means of access to them.

Given that they are the objects of definition and the models of their

ordinary representatives, there is every reason not only to treat them

as real but also to assign to them a higher kind of unity and

perfection. And once this step has been taken, it is only natural to

make certain epistemological adjustments, for access to paradigmatic

entities is not to be expected through ordinary experience but

presupposes some special kind of intellectual insight. It seems, then,

that once Plato had accepted invariant and unitary objects of thought

as the subject of definition, he was predestined to follow the path

that led him to adopt a metaphysics and epistemology of transcendent

Forms. The very fact that mathematics was already an established

science with rigorous standards and unitary and invariant objects

seems to have greatly enhanced Plato’s confidence in applying

the same standards in moral philosophy. It led him to search for

models of morality beyond the limits of everyday experience. This, in

turn, explains the development of his theory of recollection and the

postulate of Forms as transcendent, immaterial objects as the basis of

both reality and thought that he refers to in the Meno and

that he presents more fully in the Phaedo.

We do not know when, precisely, Plato adopted this mode of thought,

but it stands to reason that his contact with the Pythagorean school

on his first voyage to Southern Italy and Sicily around 390 BC played

a major role in that development. Mathematics as a model-science has

several advantages. It deals with unchangeable entities that have

precise definitions. It also makes plausible the claim that the

essence of these entities cannot be comprehended in isolation but only

in a network of interconnections that have to be worked out at the

same time as each particular entity is defined. Thus, to understand

what it is to be a triangle, it is necessary – inter

alia – to have a clear notion of the nature of points,

lines, planes, and their interrelations. That Plato was aware of that

fact is indicated in his introduction of the theory of recollection in

the Meno, 81d: “As the whole of nature is akin, and the

soul has learned everything, nothing prevents a man, after recalling

one thing only – a process men call learning – discovering

everything else for himself, if he is brave and does not tire of the

search; for searching and learning, are, as a whole, recollection

(anamnesis).” The somewhat mystifying claim of an

‘overall kinship’ is then illuminated by the famous

‘mathematical experiment’ (Me. 82b–85c).

The slave manages, with some pushing and pulling by Socrates, and

thanks to some illustrations drawn in the sand, to double the area of

a given square. In the course of this interrogation, the disciple

gradually discovers the relations between the different lines,

triangles, and squares. That Plato regards these interconnections as

crucial features of knowledge is subsequently confirmed by the

distinction that Socrates draws between knowledge and true belief

(97b–98b). As he argues, true beliefs are unreliable because

they behave like ‘the statues of Daedalus that easily run away

as long as they are not tied down’. The requisite ‘tying

down’ happens (98a) “by giving an account of the reason

why. And that, Meno my friend, is recollection, as we previously

agreed. After they are tied down, in the first place, they become

knowledge, and then they remain in place.” This explanation

indicates that, according to Plato, knowledge does not consist in a

mere mental ‘gazing’ at isolated models but rather in

uncovering the invariant relations and interrelations that constitute

the objects in question.

The complexity underlying Plato’s theory of the Forms as it

surfaces in the Phaedo is easily overlooked because its

discussion initially suggests that recollection is no more than the

grasping of concepts. Thus, the concept of ‘exact equality in

size’ is prompted by the perception of more or less

equal-seeming sticks and stones (74a–e). The same condition

applies to the other examples of Forms, 65d–e: “Do we say

that there is such a thing as the Just itself or not? And the

Beautiful, and the Good? […] I am speaking of all things such

as Tallness, Health, Strength, and in a word, the reality of all other

things, that which each of them essentially is.” But Plato does

not employ his newly established metaphysical entities as the basis

for working out a definitive conception of the human soul and the

appropriate way of life in the Phaedo. Rather, he confines

himself to warnings against the contamination of the soul by the

senses and their pleasures, and quite generally against corruption by

worldly values. He gives no advice concerning human conduct beyond

the recommendation of a general abstemiousness from worldly

temptations. This seems a rather austere picture of human life, and an

egocentric one, to boot, for nothing is said about relations between

human beings beyond Socrates’ exhortations that his friends

should likewise take care of their souls as best they can. It is

unclear whether this otherworldly and ascetic attitude is the sign of

a particularly pessimistic period in Plato’s life or whether it

merely reflects the circumstances of the discussion –

Socrates’ impending death. But as long as this negative or

otherworldly attitude towards the physical side of human nature

prevails, no interest is to be expected on the part of Plato in nature

as a whole – let alone in the principles of the cosmic order

(but cf. 5.1 below). But it is not only the apparent asceticism that

stands in the way of a wider perspective. Socrates himself seems to

have been quite indifferent to the study of nature. While in the

Phaedo Socrates confesses his inability to deal with the

causes of natural processes, the Apology contains an

energetic denial of any concern with natural philosophy on

Socrates’ side. The accusations that depict him as “a

student of all things in the sky and below the earth” are quite

unfounded (18c); he has never conversed on such issues at all, and the

attribution to him of the Anaxagorean tenet that the sun is a stone

and the moon consists of earth is a sign of his accusers’

recklessness (26d–e). Similarly, in the Phaedrus,

Socrates explains his preference for the city and his avoidance of

nature (230d): “Landscapes and trees have nothing to teach me

– only the people in the city can do that.” That Plato is

not distorting the facts here is confirmed by the testimony of

Xenophon, who is equally emphatic about Socrates’ repudiation of

the study of heavenly phenomena and his concentration on human affairs

(Memorabilia I 1.15–16). If Plato later takes a much

more positive attitude towards nature in general, this is a

considerable change of focus. In the Phaedo, he quite

deliberately confines his account of the nature of heaven and earth,

with its heavenly order and hellish geography, to the myth about the

soul’s afterlife (108d–114c). As he states in conclusion,

this mythical depiction is not to be taken literally but as an

encouragement to heed its moral message and to take care of

one’s soul (114d–e). This is as constructive as Plato gets

in his earlier treatment of the principles of ethics.

3. The middle dialogues: Justice and other virtues

3.1 Human nature and its deficiencies

If Plato went through a period of open-ended experimentation and

tentative suggestions, this stage was definitely over by the time he

wrote the Republic, the central work of his middle years.

Because of the Republic’s importance, a more detailed

account will be provided here in order to explain the ethical

principles set forth in that work, for these principles are closely

intertwined with Plato’s political, psychological, and

metaphysical conceptions. That the work represents a major change in

Plato’s thinking is indicated already by the dialogue’s

setting. The aporetic controversy about justice in the

Republic’s first book is set off quite sharply against

the constructive discussion that ensues in its remaining nine books.

Like the Gorgias, the first book presents three interlocutors

who defend, with increasing vigor and contentiousness, their notion of

justice against Socrates’ elenchos. Of these disputes,

the altercation with the sophist Thrasymachus has received the most

attention because he defends the provocative thesis that natural

justice is the right of the stronger and that conventional justice is,

at best, high-minded foolishness. The counter-arguments employed by

Socrates at the various turns of the discussion will not be presented

here. Though they reduce Thrasymachus to angry silence, they are not

above criticism. Socrates himself expresses dissatisfaction with the

result of this discussion R. 354c: “As far as I am

concerned, the result is that I know nothing, for when I don’t

know what justice is, I’ll hardly know whether it is a kind of

virtue or not, or whether a person who has it is happy or

unhappy.” But for once, the speakers’ confession of

aporia is not the end of the discussion. At the beginning of

the next book, two members of the audience, Plato’s brothers

Glaucon and Adeimantus, challenge Socrates: Perhaps Thrasymachus has

defended his case badly, but if Socrates wants to convince his

audience, he must do better than that. The brothers demand a positive

account both of what justice is and of what it does to the soul of its

possessor.

The change of character in the subsequent discussion is remarkable.

Not only are the two brothers not subjected to elenchos, they

get ample time to elaborate on their objections (357a–367e).

Though they profess not to be convinced that injustice is better than

justice, they argue that, in the present state of society, injustice

pays – with the gods as well as with humans – as long as

the semblance of respectability is preserved. To prove this claim, the

brothers play devil’s advocate by unfolding a scathing picture

of their society’s attitude towards justice. As the story of the

Ring of Gyges and its gift of invisibility proves, everyone who does

not have a god-like character will eventually succumb to such a

ring’s temptations (359c–360d). Instead of the wolf of

Thrasymachus’ account, it is the wily fox who is the paragon of

injustice (365a-d). He will succeed at every level because he knows

how to play the power-game with cunning. The just man, by contrast,

pays no heed to the mere semblance of goodness but rather to its

substance and, therefore, must suffer a Christ-like fate because he

does not comply with the demands of favoritism and blandishment

(361e). Even the gods, as the poets confirm, are on the side of the

successful scoundrel since they can be propitiated by honors and

sacrifices. Given this state of affairs, a logic-chopping argument

that justice is better than injustice is quite insufficient

(367b–e: logôi). Instead, Socrates must show what

effect each of them has on the souls of their possessors. As this

critique indicates, Plato, at this point, clearly regards refutation as

an insufficient way of making true converts. Whether he ever had such

confidence in the power of refutation must remain a moot point. But

the Republic shows that the time had come for a positive

account of morality and of the good life. If elenchos is used

in Plato’s later dialogues, it is never again used in the

knock-down fashion of the early dialogues. But in his treatment of

justice, Plato does not directly resort to the theory of Forms.

Instead, he develops a political and psychological model as a solution

to the problem of the nature of justice. That there is also a

metaphysical way to determine the nature of justice is indicated only

briefly and enigmatically when Plato speaks of a ‘longer

way’ that would also have been possible for him to take (435d;

504b)

A brief sketch of Plato’s inquiry into the nature of justice

must suffice here to make intelligible his distinction of justice

from the other kinds of virtue and of their role in the good life (for

a more penetrating analysis, see the entry Plato’s

Ethics and Politics by Eric Brown). This question is addressed in

a quite circuitous way. Justice is first to be studied in the

‘larger text’ of the state rather than in the

hard-to-decipher ‘small text’ of the individual soul. A

study of how a city comes to be will supposedly reveal the origin of

justice and injustice (369a). Its founding principle is – at

least at first – no high-minded concern of humankind, but mutual

economic need: “A city comes to be because none of us

is self-sufficient (autarkês), but we all need many

things. … And because people need many things, and because one

person calls on a second out of one need (chreia) and on a

third out of a different need, many people gather in a single place to

live together as partners and helpers.” The ‘need’

is, at least at this point, purely economic. The minimal city is based

on the need for food, clothing, shelter, and for the requisite tools.

It is economic efficiency that dictates the adoption of the principle

of the ‘division of functions’: It is best if everyone

performs the task s/he is naturally most fit for. This principle

determines not only the structure of the minimal, self-subsistent

state of farmers and craftsmen but also the subsequent division of

the city’s inhabitants into three classes in the ‘fevered

state’ that caters to higher demands, for a more luxurious city

needs protection by a professional army as well as the leadership of a

class of philosopher-kings and -queens. Beyond the claim that the

division of functions is more economical, Plato gives no justification

for this fateful decision that determines the social order in the

state, as well as the nature of the virtues. Human beings are not born

alike but with different abilities that predestine them for different

tasks in a well-ordered state. This leads to Plato’s principle:

‘one person – one job’ (R. 370a–c;

423d).

Because the division of functions paves the way for the definition of

justice as ‘doing your own thing and not meddling with that of

others’ in Book IV (432d–433b), it is necessary to briefly

review the kind of social order Plato has in mind, the psychological

principles he assumes, and the political institutions by which that

order is to be secured, for this explains not only the establishment

of a three-class society and the explanation of the corresponding

structure of the soul but also Plato’s theory of education and

the metaphysical underpinnings. That economic needs are the basis of

the political structure does not, of course, mean that they are the

only human needs Plato recognizes. It indicates, however, that the

emphasis here is on the unity and self-sufficiency of a

well-structured city, not on the well-being of the individual

(423c–e; 425c). This focus should be kept in mind when assessing

the ‘totalitarianism’ and the rigorous cultural

conservatism of the political philosophy of Plato’s middle

years.

The need for a professionally trained army leads to the discussion of

education and moral psychology because the preservation of internal

peace and external security presupposes the combination of two quite

different character-traits among the ‘guardians’

(‘the philosophical watchdogs’, 375d–376c):

friendliness towards their fellow-citizens and fierceness towards

their enemies. The injunctions concerning the citizens’

education are very detailed because it must combine the right kind of

‘muses’ (poetry, music, and other fine arts) with the

appropriate physical training in order to develop the right

temperament and attitude in the soldiers (376d–403d). The

organisation and supervision of education is the special task of the

third class, that of the rulers of the city (412b–417b). They

are to be selected through tests of both intelligence and character

from among the soldiers – individuals who are unshakable in

their conviction that their own well-being is intimately tied to that

of the city. To ensure that members of the military and the ruling

class retain the proper attitude towards their civic duties, members

of both classes must lead a communal life without private homes,

families, or property. When Socrates’ interlocutors object that

such a life is not apt to make these citizens happy, the topic of

happiness is addressed for the first time, but Socrates quickly

brushes it aside at this point on the ground that the political order

is designed to make the entire city happy, rather than any one

particular group (419a-e).

3.2 Virtues of state and soul

The division of functions that leads to the separation of the three

classes for the purpose of achieving the social conditions for justice

concludes the discussion of the social order (427d–434c). The

peculiar manner in which Socrates further develops his explanation of

the nature of justice can best be understood with reference to the

upshot of this discussion. The catalogue of what in later tradition

has been dubbed ‘the four cardinal Platonic virtues’

– wisdom, courage, moderation, and justice – is first

presented without comment. Piety, as the text indicates, is

nοt treated as a virtue; religious practices should, rather,

be left to tradition and to the oracle of Apollo at Delphi on the

ground that: “We have no knowledge of these things”

(427b–c). The definition of justice is to be discovered

by a process of elimination. If there are four virtues in the city,

then justice must be the one that is left over after the other three

have been identified. There is no proof offered that there are

exactly four virtues in a state, nor that they are items that can be

lifted up, singly, for inspection, like objects from a basket.

Instead, Socrates points out the role they play in the maintenance of

the social order. About wisdom (sophia) – the only purely

intellectual virtue and the exclusive possession of the rulers – little

more is said at this point than that it is ‘good council’

(euboulia) in decisions about the internal and external

affairs of the city. Courage (andreia) is the soldiers’

specific virtue. Socrates takes some trouble explaining its nature

because it is a mixture of belief (doxa) and steadfastness of

character (sôtêria). It is compared to colorfast

wool: Through thick and thin, the guardians must be dyed-in-the-wool

adherents to the laws’ decrees about what is to be feared and

what is to be faced with confidence. Moderation

(sôphrosunê) is not an intellectual excellence

either, but rather a combination of belief with a certain disposition

to support order. It is a conviction (doxa, 431e) shared by

all classes about who should rule – a conviction based on a

state of ‘order’ (kosmos),

‘consonance’ (sumphônia), and

‘harmony’ (harmonia). The state’s third

class, then, has no specific virtue of its own. Finally, the

identification of justice is due to the sudden insight on

Socrates’ part that justice is the principle that has been at

work all along in the founding of the model state – namely, that

everyone is to “do their own thing and not meddle with that of

another” (433a).

The promise to establish the isomorphic structure of the city and soul

has not been forgotten. After the definition and assignment of the

four virtues to the three classes of the city, the investigation turns

to the role and function of the soul’s virtues. The soul is held

to consist of three parts corresponding to the three classes in the

city. The lengthy argument for the tri-partition of the soul into a

rational (logistikon), a spirited (thumoeides), and

an appetitive (epithumêtikon) part (434d–441c)

can here be neither reproduced nor subjected to a critical evaluation.

That Plato lets Socrates express reservations concerning the adequacy

of his own procedure, despite his unusually circumspect way of

justifying the division of the soul’s faculties, indicates that

he regards it as an important innovation. Indeed, there is no

indication of separate parts of the soul in any of the earlier

dialogues; irrational desires have been attributed there to the

influence of the body. In the Republic, by contrast, the soul

itself becomes the source of the appetites and desires. The difference

between the rational and the appetitive part is easily justified

because the opposition between the decrees of reason and the various

kinds of unreasonable desires is familiar to everyone. The existence

of a third, a ‘spirited’ or courageous part –

different from both reason and appetite – is harder to prove.

But the phenomenon of moral indignation is treated as evidence for a

psychic force that is reducible neither to reason nor to any of the

appetites; it is rather an ally of reason in a well-ordered soul, a

force opposed to the unruly appetites. This concludes the proof that

there are three parts in the soul, corresponding to the three classes

in the city – namely, the rational part representing the wisdom

of the rulers, the spirited part, manifest in the courage of the

soldiers, and the appetitive part that motivates the rest of the

population in its quest for material gain.

The discussion of the division of the soul sets the stage for the

final determination of the contrast between justice and injustice

(441c-445e): There will be justice in the city if the members of all

three classes mind their own business; similarly, in the individual

soul, there will be justice if each part of the soul fulfills its

own function properly. This presupposes that the soul’s two

upper parts have been given the right kind of training and education

in order to control the appetitive part. The three other virtues are

then assigned to the respective parts of the soul. Courage is the

excellence of the spirited part, wisdom belongs to the rational part,

and moderation is the consent of all three parts about who should rule

and who should obey. Justice turns out to be the overall unifying

quality of the soul, for the just person not only refrains from

meddling with what is not his externally but also harmonizes the

three parts of the soul internally. While justice is order and

harmony, injustice is its opposite: It is a rebellion of one part of

the city or soul against the others, and it results in the

inappropriate rule of their inferior parts. Justice and injustice in

the soul are, then, analogous to health and illness in the body. This

comparison suffices to bring the investigation to its desired result:

If justice is health and harmony of the soul, then injustice must be

disease and disorder. Hence, it is clear that justice is a good state

of the soul that makes its possessor happy, and injustice is its

opposite. As no one in his right mind would prefer to live with a

ruined body, similarly no one would prefer to live with a diseased soul. In

principle, the discussion of justice has, therefore, reached its

promised goal already at the end of Book IV. Socrates has met

Glaucon’s and Adeimantus’ challenge to prove that justice

is a good, in and by itself, for the soul of its possessor, and

that it is preferable to injustice.

That the Republic’s discussion does not end here but

occupies six more books is due most of all to several loose ends that

need to be tied up. Apart from the fact that reason and order are to

reign supreme, little has been said about the citizens’ way of

life. This gap will be filled, at least in part, by the description of

the communal life of the upper classes without private property and

family in Book V. More importantly, nothing has been said about the

rulers and their particular kind of knowledge. This is a crucial point

because, as the definitions of the three ‘inferior’

virtues show, their quality is contingent on the rulers’ wisdom.

Socrates addresses this problem with the provocative thesis

(473c–d): “Until philosophers rule as kings or those who

are now called kings and leaders genuinely and adequately philosophize

... cities will have no rest from evils, nor will the human

race.” This thesis starts the discussion of the

philosophers’ knowledge and of their upbringing and education,

which will continue through Books VI and VII. Because they also

introduce the special objects of the philosophers’ knowledge,

these books provide the metaphysical underpinning of the entire

conception of the good soul and the good state, for the ‘Form of

the Good’ turns out to be the ultimate source of all being and

knowledge. A short summary of the upshot of the educational program

must suffice here. The future philosophers, both women and men, are

selected from the group of guardians whose general cultural training

they share. If they combine moral firmness with quickness of mind,

they are subject to a rigorous curriculum of higher learning that will

prepare them for the ascent from the world of the senses to the world

of intelligence and truth, an ascent whose stages are summed up in the

similes of the Sun, the Line, and the Cave (508a–518b). To

achieve this ascent, the students have to undergo, first, a

preparatory schooling of ten years’ duration in the

‘liberal arts’: arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and

theoretical harmonics (518c–531c). Afterwards, they are admitted

to the training in the master-science of ‘dialectic’, a

science that supposedly enables its possessor to deal in a systematic

way with the objects of real knowledge – the Forms in general

– and with the Form of the Good in particular – the

principle of the goodness of all else (531c–535a). This study is

to last for another five years. Successful candidates are then sent

back into the Cave as administrators of ordinary political life for 15

years. At the age of fifty, the rulers are granted leave to pursue

philosophy, but even that pursuit is interrupted by periods of service

as overseers over the order of the state. This completes, in a

nutshell, the description of the philosopher-kings’ and

-queens’ education and activities (539d–541b).

Plato’s design of an autocratic rule by an aristocracy of the

mind has received a lot of flak. But our assessment of his politics

must here be limited to an assessment of the kind of happiness it supposedly

provides. Regardless of whether or not we find plausible Plato’s

assumption of an overall principle of the good as the basis of the

political order, his model state has, at least in theory, the

advantage that it guarantees both internal and external peace. That is

no mean feat in a society where interstate and civil wars were a

constant threat and often enough ended in the destruction of the

entire city. In addition, the division of functions guarantees a high

degree of efficiency if every citizen does what he/she is naturally

suited to do. But what about the citizens’ needs beyond those

for security and material goods? Are they to find their life’s

fulfillment only in the pursuit of their jobs? Plato seems to think

so when he characterizes each class by its specific kind of desire

and its respective good (581c): The philosophers are lovers of wisdom

(philosophoi), the soldiers lovers of honor

(philotimoi), and the workers are lovers of material goods

(philochrêmatoi). That human beings find, or at least

try to find, satisfaction in the kinds of goods they cherish is a

point that is further pursued in the depiction of the decay of the

city and its ruling citizens, from the best (the aristocracy of

the mind) down to the worst (the tyranny of lust) in

Books VIII and IX. A discussion of the tenability of this explanation

of political and psychological decadence will not be attempted here.

It is supposed to show that all inferior forms of government of city

and soul are doomed to fail because of the inherent tensions between

the goods that the different citizens aim for.

Some brief comments on Plato’s conception of happiness are in

order at this point. He clearly goes on the assumption that human

beings are happy insofar as they achieve the goals they cherish.

Though this notion seems to come close to the ‘preference

satisfaction’ for all citizens that is nowadays regarded as the

primary aim of every liberal state, Plato’s restriction of each

class to one type of good must seem objectionable, most

obviously in the case of the citizens of the third class who

supposedly covet nothing but material goods. This

‘reductive’ view of their human nature militates not only

against present-day intuitions – it should also militate against

Plato’s own moral psychology, in that all human souls consist of

three parts – a rational, a spirited, and an appetitive part

– whose health and harmony constitute the soul’s and the

state’s happiness. Why, then, reduce the third class to

animal-like creatures with low appetites, as suggested by the

comparison of the people to a strong beast that must be placated

(493a–c)? This comparison is echoed later in the comparison of

the soul to a multiform beast, where reason just barely controls the

hydra-like heads of the appetites and manages to do so only thanks to

the aid of a lion-like spirit (588c–590d). Is Plato thereby

giving vent to anti-democratic sentiments, showing contempt for the

rabble, as has often been claimed? He can at least be cleared of the

suspicion that the workers are mere serfs of the upper classes

because he explicitly grants them the free enjoyment of all the

customary goods that he denies to the upper classes (419a):

“Others own land, build fine big houses, acquire furnishings to

go along with them, make their own private sacrifices to the gods,

entertain guests, and also, of course, possess what you were talking

about just now, gold and silver and all the things that are thought to

belong to people who are blessedly happy.”

‘Appetite’ is clearly not confined to food, drink, and

sex. But apart from the granting of material largesse, the members of

the third class are quite neglected in Plato’s ideal city.

Apparently, no education is provided for them, for there is no

suggestion that they participate in the guardians’ musical and

athletic training, and there is no mention that obedience to the

rulers’ commands is not the only source of happiness for the

third class. Plato seems to sidestep his own insight that all human

beings have an immortal soul and have to take care of it as best they

can, as he not only demands in the Phaedo but is going to

confirm in a fanciful way in the Myth of Er at the end of

Republic Book X.

The lifestyle designated for the upper classes also seems open to

objections. The soldiers’ musical and physical training is

strictly regimented; they must take satisfaction in obedience to

the laws for the sake of preserving the city’s inner and outer

peace, and in the deeds of valor in war. Theirs is an austere

camp-life; not all of them will be selected for higher education. But

even the philosophers’ lives leave a lot to be desired, and not

only because they have to starve their common human appetites and

devote many years to administrative duties back in the

‘Cave’. Their intellectual pursuits are also not

altogether enviable, as a closer inspection would show. Not only do

the philosophers have two jobs – in violation of the rule

‘one person – one function’ – in that they are

responsible for both administrative work and philosophical thought.

They are also not to enjoy open-ended research but are, rather, subject

to a mental training that is explicitly designed to turn their minds

away from the enjoyment of all worldly beauty in order to focus

exclusively on the contemplation of the Forms. This is indicated by

the injunctions concerning the study of astronomy and harmonics

(529a–531d): The students are not to crane their necks to watch

the beauty of the “embroidery in the heavens” but rather

to concern themselves with the ideal motions of ideal moving bodies

in a purely geometrical fashion, and they are not to listen to audible

sounds, but to attend to the mathematics of harmonics. The universe is

not treated as an admirable cosmos – with the explicit purpose of

providing moral and intellectual support to the citizens – in the way

Plato is going to explain in the Philebus, the

Timaeus, and in the Laws. Given these limitations of

the philosophers’ mental exercises in the Republic, the

claim that their lives are 729 times more pleasant than the

tyrants’ (IX 587e) seems like a gross exaggeration, even if they

enjoy the pleasures of being filled with pure and unadulterated truths

while everyone else enjoys only semblances of the really real

(581e–588a).

For all the advances that the Republic represents in certain

respects, Plato’s ideal city must seem to us far from ideal. The

system resembles a well-oiled machine where everyone has their

economic niche and function, but its machine-like character must seem

repellent to us, given that no deviations are permitted from the

prescribed pattern. If innovations are forbidden, no room is left for

creativity and personal development. Plato seems to presuppose that

the fulfillment of a person’s function is sufficient to secure

her happiness, or at least that is suggested by the

‘functional’ argument that defeats Thrasymachus

(352d–354a). It states that every object, animal, and person has

a specific function or work (ergon). If it performs its

function well, it does well: For a living thing, ‘doing

well’ means ‘living well’ and living well is

tantamount to ‘living happily’. Though Socrates’

refutation of Thrasymachus is found wanting as a proof of

justice’s superiority, the ergon-argument is nowhere

revoked. On the contrary, it is affirmed by the principle of

‘one person – one job’ that is the very basis of

Plato’s ideal city. But the confinement of everyone’s

activities to just one kind of work seems rather a narrow one

in the case of the citizens of the third class, given that they are

not permitted to engage in politics, even if it may be economically

most efficient. These features suffice to make the ideal life in

Plato’s city unattractive to us, not to speak of certain other

features that have not been explored here, such as the communal life

envisaged for the upper classes and the assignment of sexual

partnerships by a lottery that is rigged for the purposes of eugenics.

But the feature that must strike us as strangest about Plato’s

depiction of his citizens’ lives is that he does not acknowledge

the one factor that could throw a more favorable light on the

life of the third class, the life of tailors, carpenters, doctors,

architects, sailors, i.e., that they will take pride and joy in their

own work and in what they produce, given that they each in their own

way make valuable contributions to the community’s well-being,

without which the city could not function. Plato does not seem to

acknowledge this when he addresses them, rather ungraciously, as

‘money-lovers’, indicating that he regards material gain

as the only motivating factor in their lives.

Have these deficiencies escaped Plato’s notice? Justified as

this critique must seem, it should be pointed out that Plato is

clearly not concerned with the conditions that would make his city

attractive to all citizens. His aim is rather more limited: He wants

to present a model and work out its essential features.

The same explanation applies to his depiction of the city’s and

its citizens’ decay in Books VIII and IX. Contrary to certain

critics’ assumptions, Plato is not there trying to predict and

explain the course of history. Rather, he wants to explain the

generation and decay typical of each political system and the

psychopathology of its leaders. Plato finds the basis of both in the

specific values – be they honor, money, freedom, or lust –

that are embedded in the constitutions of the different types of

state. It is unlikely that Plato presupposes that there are, in reality,

pure representatives of these types, though some historical states may

have been better representatives of those types than others. But the

question remains whether he had a notion of the fact that his

black-and-white picture of civic life in the model-state disregards

the claim of individuals to have their own aims and ends and not to

be treated like automata, with no thoughts and wishes of their own.

Though the Republic contains some suggestions that would

mitigate this bleak picture, for the sake of balancing this picture, it

is more fruitful to look at other works of Plato’s middle period

that concentrate on and prioritize the conditions of the

individual soul rather than focus on the demands of the

community. These works are the Symposium and the

Phaedrus, for though each dialogue should be studied as a

unity of its own, it is also necessary to treat the different

dialogues as part of a wider picture.

3.3 The desire for self-perfection

The Symposium and the Phaedrus are two dialogues

that focus on the individual soul and pay no attention to communal

life at all. Instead, they concentrate on self-preservation,

self-improvement, and self-completion. The Symposium is often

treated as a dialogue that predates the Republic, most of all

because it mentions neither the immortality nor the tripartition of

the soul. But its dramatic staging – the praise of Eros by a

company of symposiasts – is not germane to the otherworldly and

ascetic tendencies of the Gorgias and the Phaedo. In

addition, Plato has good reasons for leaving aside a discussion of the

soul’s separability from the body in the Symposium (a

feature it shares with the much later Philebus). He aims to

show in the Symposium that love is an incentive, not only for all humans but

for all other living beings as well. Contrary to all previous

speakers, Socrates denies that Eros is a god because the gods are in

a state of perfection. Love, by contrast, is a desire by needy

creatures (endeeis) for the beautiful and the good

(199c–201c). Socrates thereby corrects the previous

speakers’ confusion of love itself with the beloved object. This

important insight is presented not as Socrates’ own but as the

upshot of a ‘lecture on the nature of love by the wise priestess

Diotima’ (201d–212b): Eros is a powerful demon, a being

between (metaxu) what is mortal and what is immortal, an ever

needy hunter of the beautiful. Human beings share that demonic

condition, for they are neither good nor bad but desire the good and

the beautiful, the possession of which would constitute happiness for

them. Because all people want happiness, they pursue the good as well

as they can (205a–206b). In each case, they desire the particular

kinds of objects that they hope will fulfill their needs. Such

fulfillment is not a passive possession; it is, rather, the

appropriation of the objects of love that are deemed to be essential

in the struggle for self-preservation, self-completion, and

self-fulfillment (207d): “For among animals the principle is the

same as with us, and mortal nature seeks so far as possible to live

forever and be immortal. And this is possible in one way only: by

reproduction, because it leaves behind a new young one in place of the

old.” There is, then, a constant need for self-restoration and

self-improvement by procreation in the quest for an ‘earthly

immortality’ manifest in all living things (206e et

pass.). This need is explained by Diotima with an impressive

depiction of the constant flux that all organisms undergo, which, in the

case of human beings, not only affects their physical constitution but

their moral and intellectual condition as well. Without constant

replenishment, none of them even stays the same over time

(207c-208b).

In the case of human beings, these needs express themselves in

different ways. The search for ‘self-eternalization’ may

result in, or even be fulfilled by, the production of biological

children or of so-called ‘children of the mind’ (e.g.,

works of art), or even by the creation of order in the city that is

then guided by the virtues of justice and moderation (209a–e).

Diotima’s lecture is finally crowned by a depiction of the

famous scala amoris – the explanation of the refinement

and sublimation that a person experiences when recognizing higher and

higher kinds of beauty (210a–212a). Starting with the love of

one beautiful body, the individual gradually learns to appreciate not

only all physical beauty but also the beauty of the mind, and in the

end, she gets a glimpse of the supreme kind of beauty; namely, the

vision of the Form of the Beautiful itself – a beauty that is

neither relative, nor changeable, nor a matter of degree.

Because beauty of the higher kind is tied to virtue and is attained

by the comprehension of what is common in laws and public

institutions, it is clear that Plato does not have purely aesthetic

values in mind but the principles of good order that are ultimately

tied to the Form of the Beautiful/Good. The difference between the

Republic’s and the Symposium’s accounts

lies in the fact that the scala amoris treats physical beauty

as an incentive to the higher and better, an incentive that, in

principle, affects every human being. There is no talk of a painful

liberation from the bonds of the senses or of a turn-around of the

entire soul that is reserved only for the better educated. Brief as

the Symposium’s explanation of happiness is, it shows

three things: First, all human beings aim for their own

self-preservation and -perfection. Second, this drive finds its

expression in the products of their work, in creativity. Third, their

respective activities are instigated by each person’s own

particular desire for the beautiful. There is no indication that

individuals must act as part of a community. Though the communitarian

aspect of the good and beautiful comes to the fore in the high praise

of the products of the legendary legislators (209e–210a), the

ultimate assent to the Beautiful itself is up to the individual. That

message of the Symposium is not unique in Plato’s

works. The Lysis shares its basic assumption concerning the

intermediary state of human nature between good and bad, and it

regards need (endeia) as the basis of friendship.

Due to the aporetic character of that dialogue, its lesson remains

somewhat obscure, but it is obvious enough that it shares the

Symposium’s general anthropological

presuppositions.

The idea that eros is the incentive to sublimation and

self-completion is further pursued in the Phaedrus. Although

the close relationship between the two dialogues is generally

acknowledged, the Phaedrus is commonly regarded as a much

later work. Not only does it accept the Republic’s

psychological doctrine of a tri-partite soul, it also advocates the

immortality of the soul – doctrines that are conspicuously

absent in the Symposium. But this difference seems due to a

difference in perspective rather than to a change of mind.

The discussion in the Symposium is deliberately confined to

the conditions of self-immortalization in this life, while

the Phaedrus takes the discussion beyond the

confines of this life. If it shares the Republic’s

doctrine of a division of the soul into three parts, it does so for

reasons of its own: The three parts of the soul in the

Phaedrus are not supposed to justify the separation of people

into three classes. They explain, rather, the different routes taken

by individuals in their search for beauty and their levels of success.

If the Phaedrus goes beyond the Symposium, it does

so in order to show how the enchantment by beauty can be combined with

an element of Plato’s philosophy that seems quite alien to the

notions of self-improvement and sublimation through the love of

beauty. That element is abruptly identified as dialectic, the

systematic method of collection and division that is characteristic of

Plato’s later work. At first sight, it might seem that the

dialogue’s topic, Eros, is hardly the right tie to keep together

the dialogue’s two disparate parts – i.e., the highly

poetical depiction of the enchantment by beauty and the ensuing

heavenly voyage to a hyperouraneous place, and Plato’s

subsequent, quite pedestrian, methodological explanations of the

presuppositions of rhetoric (249b–c). But although the coherence

of the Phaedrus cannot be argued for in full here, the notion

that the Phaedrus is disjointed does not do justice to the

dialogue’s careful composition and overall aim.

Rhetoric, its purpose and value, is, in fact, the dialogue’s topic

right from the start. The misuse of rhetoric is exemplified by the

speech attributed to the orator Lysias, a somewhat contrived plea to

favor a non-lover rather than a lover. Socrates’ retort points

up Lysias’ presuppositions: that love is a kind of sickness, an

irrational craving for the pleasures of the body; that a lover tries

to dominate and enslave the beloved physically, materially and

mentally; and, most importantly, that the lover tries to deprive the

beloved of philosophy. Once restored to his senses, the lover will shun

his former beloved and break all his promises. This one-sided view of

Eros is corrected in Socrates’ second speech: Eros, properly

understood, is not a diseased state of mind but a kind of

‘divine madness’ (theia mania). To explain the

nature of this madness, Socrates employs the comparison of the

tripartite soul to a charioteer with a pair of winged horses, an

obedient white one and an unruly black one. The crucial difference

between the Phaedrus’ tripartition and that in the

Republic lies in this: Instead of a long and arduous

liberation through education, the Phaedrus envisages a

liberation through the uplifting force of love, a love that is –

just as it is in the Symposium – instigated by physical

beauty. That is what first makes the soul grow wings and soar in the

pursuit of a corresponding deity, to the point where it will attain

godlike insights. The best-conditioned souls – those where the

charioteer has full control over his horses – get a glimpse of

true being, including the nature of the virtues and of the good

(247c–e). Depending on the quality of each soul, the quality of

the beauty pursued will also determine the cycle of reincarnations

that is in store for each soul after death (248c–249c).

3.4 The quest for method

What is remarkable in the Phaedrus’ depiction of the

uplifting effect of beauty is not only its exuberant tone and imagery,

which goes far beyond the Symposium’s unadorned

scala amoris, but also its intricate interweaving of mythical

and philosophical elements. For, in the midst of his fanciful depiction

of the different fates that are in store for different kinds of souls,

Plato specifies, in quite technical terms, that the capacity “to

understand speech in terms of general Forms, proceeding to bring many

perceptions together into a reasoned unity” (249b–c:

synienai kat’ eidos legomenon, ...eis hen

logismôi synairoumenon), is the condition for the

reincarnation of individual souls as human beings. It is this capacity

for abstract thought that he then calls “recollection of what

the soul saw when it was travelling with god, when it disregarded the

things we now call real and lifted up its head to what is truly real

instead.” The heavenly adventure now seems to amount to no more

than the employment of the dialectical method that Socrates is going

to describe, without further mythical camouflage, in the

dialogue’s second part. The ability to work out a taxonomy,

establishing the unity in a given subject-matter and dividing it up

according to its natural kinds, is the art that characterizes the

‘scientific rhetorician’ (265d–266b). Socrates

professes the greatest veneration for such a master: “If I

believe that someone is capable of discerning a single thing that is

also by nature capable of encompassing many, I follow ‘straight

behind, in his tracks, as if he were a god’.” So the

heavenly voyage has a quite down-to-earth counterpart in the

dialectical method – a method that Plato regards as a

‘gift of the gods’, as he is going to confirm in the

Philebus (16c). At the same time, Plato’s esteem for

taxonomy explains the inner unity of the Phaedrus’

seemingly incongruous two parts as two sides of one coin, and it also

shows why Plato no longer treats the sensory as a mere distraction and

disturbance of the mind. Instead, the properly conditioned

souls’ sensory impressions are its first incentives to seek the

higher and better.

What concept of happiness is suggested by this ‘divinely

inspired’ view of human life? Individuals do not, here, find

their fulfillment in peaceful interactions in a harmonious community.

Instead, life is spent in the perennial pursuit of the higher and

better. But, in that task, the individual is not alone; she shares it

with kindred spirits. The message of both the Symposium and

the Phaedrus is, therefore, two-pronged. On the one hand, there

is no permanent attainment of happiness as a stable state of

completion in this life. In the ups and downs of life (and of the

afterlife), humans are in constant need of beauty as an incentive to

aim for self-perfection. Humans are neither god-like nor wise; at

best, they are god-lovers and philosophers, demonic hunters for truth

and goodness. To know is not to have, and to have once is not to have

forever. In the Symposium, Diotima states in no uncertain

terms that humans have a perennial need to replenish what they

constantly lose, both in body and soul, because they are mortal and

changeable creatures, and the Phaedrus confirms the need for

continued efforts because the heavenly voyage is not a one-time

affair. On the other hand, there is also the message conveyed that the

pursuit of the good and the beautiful is not a lonely enterprise. As

indicated in the Symposium and further elaborated in the

Phaedrus, love for a beautiful human being is an incentive to

search for a higher form of life, a sacred joint journey of two

friends in communion (255a–256e). The need for, and also the

possibility of, constant self-repletion and -perfection is a motive

that will reappear in the ethical thought of Plato’s late works,

a motif he sometimes presents as the maxim that humans should aim at

the ‘likening of oneself to god’ (homoiôsis

theôi in Theaetetus 176b; Timaeus

90c).

Sober philosophers have a tendency to ignore such visionary talk as a

kind of Schwärmerei that lacks the substance to be worth

serious thought. That Plato, appearances notwithstanding, is not

indulging in a god-besotted rêverie in the

Phaedrus is indicated by his interweaving of the mythical

depiction in the dialogue’s first part with his specification

and exploration of the dialectical method in the later part

(259e-279c), where Socrates attempts to determine the requirements of

‘scientific rhetoric’ (259e–279c). Artful speaking,

as well as artful deception, presupposes knowledge of the truth,

especially where the identity of the phenomena is difficult to grasp,

because similarities can be misleading. This applies in particular to

concepts like the good and the just, as witnessed by the wide

disagreement about their nature (263a–c). The development of the

‘sharp eye’ that is needed to assign each object to the

right class is the aim of Plato’s method of collection and

division, a method on which he expounds at some length in the

Phaedrus. He discusses the care that is needed in order to

“see together things that are scattered about everywhere, and to

collect them into one kind (mia idea)”, as well as

“to cut the unity up again according to its species along its

natural joints, and to try not to splinter any part, as a bad butcher

might do (265d–e).” That this method is supposed to serve

an overall ethical purpose is confirmed by the fact that rhetoric

based on truth must reflect the speaker’s knowledge not only of

the different types of souls and the types of speech that fit them

(271d) but also of the truth about just and good things (272d).

That dialectic is geared to this end is somewhat obscured in the

subsequent discussion in the Phaedrus. First of all, Plato

turns away from this issue in his long depiction of the iniquities of

contemporary rhetoricians when he contrasts their efforts with that

of the scientific rhetorician. And Plato continues this excursion with

a discussion of speaking and writing, culminating in his famous

‘critique of writing’. Second, although Plato makes ample

use of the method of collection and division in later dialogues such

as the Sophist and the Statesman, he seems to pay

little heed there to problems of ethics, with the exception of the

Philebus. But the aptness of the dialectical method in

discerning the nature of the good has already been emphasized in the

Republic (534b–c): “Unless someone can

distinguish in an account the Form of the Good from everything else,

can survive all refutation as if in battle... you will say that he

does not know the good itself or any other good.” Brief as these

remarks are, they show that the application of dialectic is of central

importance to the understanding and pursuit of the good. That the good

is nowhere subjected to such treatment must be due to the enormity of

the task involved in undertaking a systematic identification of all

that is good and in working out the criteria of distinction. Although

it is unclear whether Plato in the Republic had already

refined the dialectical method in the systematic way indicated in the

Phaedrus, the hints contained about a ‘longer

way’ (435d; 504b) to determine the nature of justice and that of

the other virtues suggest that the development of a systematic method

of collection and division was at least ‘in the works’. As

a closer look at the much later Philebus will show, the

determination of what is good about each kind of thing presupposes

more than a classification by collection and division: the internal

structure of each kind of entity has also to be determined. Knowledge

is not confined to the comprehension of the objects’ being,

identity, difference and other interrelations that exist in a given

field. It also presupposes the knowledge of what constitutes the

objects’ internal unity and complexity. It would, of course, be

rather presumptuous to claim that Plato had not seen the need to

investigate the ontological ‘anatomy’, as well as the

taxonomy, of the Forms from early on. But as the late dialogues show,

it took him quite some effort to develop the requisite conceptual

tools for such analyses.

Before we turn to the late dialogues, a final review is in order of

the kind of good life that Plato envisages in the dialogues

under discussion here. In the Symposium, the emphasis is on

the individual’s creative work, which involves others at least

as catalysts in one’s efforts to attain self-perpetuation and

self-perfection. The quality of life attainable by each person

differs depending on the kind of ‘work’ each individual

is able to produce. This is what the scala amoris is all

about. In the Phaedrus, the emphasis is on the ‘joint

venture’ of two kindred souls. True friends will get to the

highest point of self-fulfillment through the joint insights that they

attain. Just as in the Symposium, the philosophical life is

deemed the best. But then, this preference is found everywhere in

Plato, and it is not unique to him: All ancient philosophers regard

their own occupation as the true fulfillment of human nature –

as they saw it. If there are differences between them, they concern

the kinds of study and occupation that they deemed appropriate for the

philosopher. The more individualistic view of happiness espoused in

the Symposium and in the Phaedrus need, however, not

be seen as a later stage in Plato’s development than the

Republic’s communitarian conception. They may present

complementary, rather than rival, points of view, and no fixed

chronology need be assumed in order to accommodate both.

4. The late dialogues: Ethics and Cosmology

4.1 Harmony and cosmic goodness

Most modern readers of Plato tend to ignore the significance of

Plato’s late dialogues for his ethical views, for late dialogues

such as the Timaeus appear to concentrate on nature and

metaphysics — and, for the most part, drop questions such as the

nature of the virtues and the moral psychology of the soul. This

appears to be a shift in emphasis since nature and natural things are

not among the objects that concern Plato in his earlier and middle

philosophical investigations. Thus, in the Republic, he

dismisses the study of the visible heaven from the curriculum of

higher learning, along with the study of audible music. But, such

generalizations about Plato’s intentions may be misleading. What

he denigrates is not the study of the heavenly order as such or that

of harmonics; it is, rather, the extent to which humans must necessarily

rely on their eyes and ears in those concerns. Students of philosophy

are, rather, encouraged to work out the true intelligible order

underlying the visible heaven and audible music. Not only that: The

ascent out of the Cave does include recognition of objects outside,

especially “the things in the sky” (R.

516a–b). If Plato is critical of natural science, it is because

of its empirical approach. This echoes the Phaedo’s

complaint that one ruins one’s eyes by looking directly at

things, most of all at the sun (Phdo. 99d–e), while

ignoring the ‘binding force’ of the good. But what kind of

‘binding force’ does Plato attribute to ‘the

Good’? His reticence about this concept, despite its centrality

in his metaphysics and ethics, is largely responsible for the

obscurity of his concept of happiness and of what it is to lead a good

life. The philosophers’ knowledge supposedly provides a solid

basis for the good life of the entire community, as well as for that

of the – perhaps uncomprehending – majority, because all

benefit from the good order of the state. But what is ‘the

Good’ that is responsible for the goodness of all other things?

A lot of ink has been spilt over the following passage in

Republic book VI, 509b: “Not only do the objects of

knowledge owe their being known to the Good, but their

being (ousia) is also due to it, although the Good

is not being, but beyond it (epekeina) in rank and

power.” The analogy with the sun’s maintenance of all that

is alive suggests that the Good is the intelligent inner principle

that determines the nature of every object that is capable of

goodness, in the sense that these objects fulfill their respective

functions in the appropriate way. Plato does not attempt to state how

such a principle of goodness works in all things in the

Republic, nor does he indicate whether he has in mind a

unifying principle in a strong sense. That he is indeed thinking of an

internal ‘binding force’ for all kinds of things is

indicated, however, in Book X, in his elucidation of the ontological

differences that exist, respectively, between the Forms as the

products of a divine maker, their earthly copies, and the imitation of

these copies by an artist (R. 596a ff.). According to Plato,

in each case, it is the use or function that

determines what it is to be good (601d): “Aren’t the

virtue or excellence, the beauty and correctness of each manufactured

item, living creature, and action related to nothing but the use

(chreia) for which each is made or naturally adapted?”

Given that Plato does not limit this account to tools or instruments

but explicitly includes living things and human actions, he seems to

have a specific criterion in mind for what constitutes each

thing’s excellence. But what determines the ‘use’ of

a human being, and to what extent can there be a common principle that

accounts for all good things? In the Republic, this question

is answered only indirectly through the isomorphism of the just state

and the just soul, based on a harmonious internal order. The postulate

of such an orderly structure is not explicitly extended beyond the

state and the soul. In the later dialogues, by contrast, the Good

clearly operates on a cosmic scale. That such is Plato’s view

comes to the fore in his excursus on the philosopher’s nature in

the Theaetetus (173c–177c). Contrary to Socrates’

denial in the Apology, Socrates in the Theaetetus

affirms that the philosopher is to pursue both “what lies below

the earth and the heights above the heaven” (173e):

“tracking down by every path the entire nature of each whole

among the things that are.” And Socrates also concerns himself

there with the question of “What is man? What actions and

passions properly belong to human nature and distinguish it from all

other beings?” In that connection, he compares the discovery of

truth with ‘likening oneself to God’ (homoiôsis

theôi) and indicates that there is a unitary principle of

goodness. The ability to achieve this superhuman state depends on

one’s readiness to engage in strenuous philosophical discourse

(177b).

If, in the Republic, the goodness of the individual soul is

explained in terms of its being a smaller copy of a harmonious

society, in the Timaeus, Plato goes for an even larger model.

The universe and its soul now supply the ‘large text’ for

deciphering the nature of the human soul. The structure of the

world-soul is replicated in the nature of the human soul. That there

is, nevertheless, a close affinity between the Republic and

the cosmological project that Plato means to pursue in the

Timaeus and its intended sequel is clearly indicated in the

preface to the Timaeus. The tale of the origin of the

universe, including human nature, is presented as the first step

towards fulfilling Socrates’ wish to see his own best city

‘in action’ (Ti. 19b–c). From antiquity on,

this introduction has created the impression that the Timaeus

is the direct continuation of the Republic, an impression

that explains its juxtaposition in the Corpus Platonicum.

Strong indications speak, however, for a much later date of the

Timaeus. If Plato establishes a link between these two works,

his intent is to compare as well as to contrast. The continuity

consists solely in the fact that Socrates reaffirms his adherence to

his ideal city’s order – at least in principle

(Ti. 17c–19b). It is this order that Critias promises

to illustrate by a narration of the tale of two cities, of the war

between pre-historic Athens, a city that exemplifies the ideal order,

and Atlantis, a powerful tyrannical superpower (Ti.

20d–26e). However, Plato never completed this project: The

Critias breaks off after some 15 Stephanus-pages, in

mid-sentence, and the third dialogue in the series,

Hermocrates, whatever was to have been its content, was never

written at all. So, the story of Socrates’ ideal city in

action and of the life of its citizens remains untold. All we

have is Plato’s cosmic model for such a state and the soul of

its inhabitants (on Plato’s cosmology, see the entry

Plato’s Timaeus by Donald Zeyl and Barbara Sattler in

SEP).

A crucial difference between the philosophical approach in the

Republic and that in the Timaeus lies in the fact

that, in the latter dialogue, Plato concerns himself with the structure

of the visible heaven as a model for the human soul and also with the

material conditions of human physiology. What is confined to mythology

in Plato’s earlier works is here worked out – though not

without a caveat to the effect that Plato is merely offering

a likely story rather than a scientific explanation of the

structure of the universe, of the human soul, and of human physiology.

Plato’s choice of presenting his explanation of the order of the

universe as a story of creation by a so-called demiurge or

‘divine workman’ is certainly no accident. It can be

understood as a kind of ‘retractation’ of his deprecatory

depiction of the divine workman’s heavenly embroidery in

Republic VII 528e-530d, where such a product is depreciated

because of its inferiority to a model conceivable in theory. To be

sure, the Timaeus presupposes the Forms as the divine

workman’s unchanging models, and he resorts to mathematical

principles to explain the cosmic order (27d–29d; 30c–31b),

but the focus is almost exclusively on the construction of the visible

heavens. Plato now seems to have convinced himself that in order to

explain the nature of a living being, it is necessary to show what

factors constitute such a live organism.

This intention explains certain peculiarities of the Timaeus

that make the dialogue hard to penetrate, for it falls into three

rather disparate parts. The first part describes the structure of the

world-soul and its replication in the human soul in a way that

combines the general principles with those of mathematics and

harmonics and illustrates it with fantastic imagery (29d–47e).

The second part consists of a rather meticulous account of the

elementary corporeal constituents of nature, which are supposedly

formed out of geometrically constructed atoms (47e–69a). The

third part combines elements from the first and second parts in a

lengthy explanation of human physiology and psychology

(69b–92c). The first, cosmological, part of the Timaeus

greatly taxes one’s ability to relate the notion of a divinely

created world-soul to the motions of the visible heavens because

Plato offers only the barest hints concerning the intelligible,

mathematical, and harmonic structure that is to explain these motions.

By contrast, the explanations in the second and third parts are hard to

follow because of Plato’s quite unique concern with the

structure and the dynamics of the basic elements of the physical world

in general and with that of human physiology in particular.

But why does Plato burden himself and his readers with such a complex

machinery, and what does this heavenly instrument have to do with

ethics? Since the human soul is formed out of the same ingredients as

the world soul (albeit of a less pure kind) and displays the same

structure (41d–e), Plato is clearly not just concerned with the

order of the universe but with that of the human soul as well. He

attributes to it the possession of the kinds of concepts that are

necessary for the understanding of the nature of all things, both

eternal and temporal. The soul’s ingredients are here limited to

the purely general concepts and to mathematical proportions. There is

no reference to a theory of recollection of the nature of all things.

Rather, Plato is concerned to ascertain that the soul has all the

tools for dealing with all objects: (1) the most important concepts

necessary for the identification and the differentiations in the way

required for dialectical procedure; (2) the numbers and proportions

needed to understand numerical relations and harmonic structures of

all sorts; (3) the capacity of the soul to perform and comprehend

harmoniously coordinated motions. This, it seems, is all the soul

needs and all it gets so that it can perform its various tasks. The

unusual depiction of the soul’s elements and composition makes

it hard, at first, to penetrate to the rationale of its construction,

and it must remain an open question to what extent Plato expects his

model to be taken in a literal rather than in a figurative sense. His

overall message should be clear, however: The soul is a

harmoniously structured entity that can, in principle, function

forever, and it also comprehends the corresponding structures

of other entities and, therefore, has access to all that is good and

harmonious. This last point has consequences for his ethical thought

that are not developed in the Timaeus itself, but that can be

detected in some of the other late dialogues.

4.2 Measure for Measure

Plato’s concern with ‘right measure’ in a sense that

is relevant for ethics is, of course, not confined to his late work.

It shows up rather early. Already in the Gorgias, Socrates

blames Callicles for the undisciplined state of his soul and

attributes it to his neglect of geometry (508a): “You’ve

failed to notice that proportionate equality (geometrikê

isotês) has great power among both gods and men.” But

it is unclear whether this expression is to be taken in a more than

metaphorical sense; it is, at any rate, not repeated anywhere else in

Plato’s earlier work. There is also no indication that Plato

takes seriously the idea of a ‘quantification’ of the

nature of the virtues in his middle dialogues. If mathematics looms

large, then, it is as a model science on account of its exactness, the

stability of its objects, and their accessibility to reason. A

systematic exploration of the notion that measure and proportion are

the fundamental conditions of goodness is confined to the late

dialogues. Apart from the Timaeus’ emphasis on a

precise cosmic and mental order, there is a crucial passage in the

Statesman (283d–285c), where the Eleatic Stranger

distinguishes two kinds of ‘art of measurement’. The first

kind is the ordinary measuring of quantities relative to each other

(‘the great and small’). The second kind has a normative

component: It is concerned with the determination of ‘due

measure’ (to metrion). The latter is treated with great

concern, for the Eleatic Stranger claims that it is the basis of all

expertise, including statesmanship, the very art that is the subject

of that dialogue (284a–b): “It is by preserving measure in

this way that they produce all the good and fine things they do

produce.” His point is that all good productions and all

processes of generation that come to a good end presuppose

‘right measure’, while arbitrary quantities (‘the

more and less’) have no such results. The Eleatic Stranger

therefore suggests a separation of the simple arts of measuring from

the arts concerned with due measure (284e): “Positing as one

part all those sorts of expertise that measure the numbers, lengths,

depths, breadths and speeds of things in relation to what is opposed

to them, and as the other, all those that measure in relation to what

is in due measure (to metrion), what is fitting (to

prepon), the right moment (to kairion), what is as it

ought to be (to deon) – everything that is removed from

the extremes to the middle (meson).” This distinction

finds no application in the Statesman itself, except that due

measure must be presupposed in the final definition of the statesman

as a ‘kingly weaver’, weaving together the fabric of the

state by combining the aggressive and the moderate temperaments in the

population so as to produce a harmonious citizenry (305e– 311c).

But no mathematic procedure is specified as the condition of such a

‘mixing together of the citizens’ characters’ in due

measure.

The importance of ‘measure’ in a seemingly literal sense

is made explicit; however, in the Philebus, the dialogue that

is concerned with the question of whether pleasure or knowledge is the

state of mind that constitutes happiness. In that dialogue, number

(arithmos), limit (peras), and measure

(metron) play a crucial role at various points of the

discussion, and the Philebus is also the dialogue where Plato

requires that numerical precision must be observed in the application

of the ‘divine gift’ of the dialectical procedure of

collection and division (16c–17a). The dialectician must know

precisely how many species and subspecies a certain genus contains;

otherwise, he has no claim to any kind of expertise. Despite this

emphasis on precision and on the need to determine the numerical

‘limit’ in every science, Socrates does not provide the

envisaged kind of collection and division of pleasure and knowledge.

He avoids that task with the pretense that he suddenly remembers that

neither of the two contenders suffices in itself for the happy life

and that a mixture of the two is preferable. To explain the nature of

this mixture, Socrates introduces a fourfold division of all beings

(23c–27c), a division that uses the categories of

‘limit’ and ‘measure’ in a different way than

the one suggested earlier for the ‘divine method of

dialectic’. Limit now concerns the objects’ internal

structure. As Socrates states, all beings belong in one of four

classes – namely (1) limit (peras), (2) the unlimited

(apeiron), (3) the mixture (meixis) of limit and the

unlimited, or (4) the cause (aitia) of such a mixture. As the

subsequent explications concerning the four classes show, the

unlimited comprises all those things that have no exact measure or

grade in themselves, such as what is hotter and colder, faster and

slower. Although at first the examples are confined to relative terms,

the class of the unlimited is then extended to things like hot and

cold, dry and moist, fast and slow, and even heat and frost, i.e., to

all that has no fixed limit or degree. Mixture takes place when such

qualities take on a definite quantity (poson) or due measure

(metrion) that puts a definite limit on their variety. That

only measured entities qualify as mixtures is not only suggested by

the examples Socrates refers to (health, strength, beauty, music, and

the seasons) but by his assertion, later in the dialogue, that a

mixture without due measure or proportion does not deserve its name

(64d–e): “it will necessarily corrupt its ingredients and

most of all itself. For there would be no blending in such cases at

all but only an unconnected medley, the ruin of whatever happens to be

contained in it.” The upshot of this discussion is that all

stable entities represent a harmonious equilibrium of their otherwise

limitless ingredients. Since indeterminate elements usually turn up in

pairs of opposites, the right limit in each case must be the right

proportion necessary for their balance. In the case of health, there

will be the right balance between the hot and the cold, the dry and

the moist. The cause of the proper proportion for each mixture turns

out to be reason; it is the only member of the fourth class.

As Socrates indicates, divine reason is the ultimate source of all

that is good and harmonious in the universe, while human reason

constitutes order down here (26e–27c; 28a–30e).

The adoption of this fourfold ontology allows Socrates to assign

pleasure and knowledge to two of the four classes of being: Pleasure

turns out to be unlimited because it admits of the ‘more and

less’. Reason, by contrast, belongs to the fourth class, to the

causes of good mixtures. On the basis of this classification, Socrates

provides the criteria for a critical assessment of the different kinds

of pleasure and knowledge (31b–59d) and presents happiness as a

mixture of all kinds of knowledge with true and pure kinds of pleasure

(59d-64b). In a final ‘ranking of goods’, measure and due

proportion, unsurprisingly, get the first rank among the possessions

of the soul, things in proper proportion come in second, reason is

ranked third, the arts and sciences obtain fourth place, whereas the

true and pure pleasures get fifth and last place on the scale of goods

(64c–67b). If Plato in the Philebus is more favorably

disposed towards a hedonist stance than in some of his earlier works,

he is so only to a quite limited degree: He regards pleasure as a

necessary ingredient in human life because both the physical and the

psychic equilibria that constitute human nature are unstable. In a

sense that recalls the Symposium, Plato presupposes that

there is always some deficiency or lack that needs

supplementation. Because the range of such ‘supplements’

includes learning and the pursuit of the virtues, there are some

pleasures that are rightly cherished. But even they are deemed goods

only insofar as they are a compensation for human imperfection.

Given the importance of ‘measure’, there is the question

of how serious Plato is about such a ‘mathematization’ of

his principles, quite generally. Though harmony and order have been

treated as important principles in Plato’s metaphysics and

ethics from early on, in his late dialogues, he seems to envisage right

measure in a literal sense. This explains his confidence that even

physical entities can attain a relatively stable state. As he suggests

both in the Timaeus and in the Philebus, not

everything is in a constant flux. On the contrary, those things that

possess the measures that are right for their type are stable entities

and can be the objects of ‘firm and true beliefs and

convictions’ (Ti. 37b–c). This applies not only

to the nature of the visible universe but also to the human body and

mind. Plato seems to have felt encouraged to embrace such theories by

the advances of astronomy and harmonics in his own lifetime so that

he postulates ‘due proportion’ in an arithmetical sense as

the cause of all harmony and stability.

Plato’s confidence seems to have extended not only to the

physical but also to the moral state of human nature. That assumption

is confirmed not only by the emphasis on right mixture in the

Philebus but also by the discussion in the Laws

about how the laws are to achieve peace in the state and harmony in

the souls of the citizens. Plato no longer treats the emotions as a

menace to the virtues; rather, he assigns to the legislators the task

of providing for an adequate balance of pleasure and pain by

habituating the citizens in the right way (632a–643a). This

balance, through paideia, is crucial for maintaining a truly

liberal soul (I 636e): “Pleasure and pain flow like two springs

released by nature. If a man draws the right amount from the right

spring at the right time, he lives a happy life.” Suffice it to

note that the comments concerning the right measure of pleasure and

pain form the preface to the entire project. That there is a

considerable re-evaluation of the emotions in the Laws,

compared to that in the Republic, is confirmed by the fact

that, according to Laws II, education is supposed to provide

the citizens with the right habituation (ĕthos)

concerning the measure of pleasure and pain. The function assigned,

there, to the right measure of pleasure and pain in the

citizens’ sentimental education clearly anticipates the

Aristotelian conception of the moral virtues as the right mean between

excess and deficiency (II 653b–c): “Virtue is this general

concord of reason and emotion. But there is one element you could

isolate in any account you give, and this is the correct formation of

our feelings of pleasure and pain, which makes us hate what we ought

to hate from first to last, and love what we ought to love.” The

confidence expressed in the Laws in the power of due measure

culminates in the famous maxim that God (rather than Protagoras’

Man) is the measure of all things (IV 716c–d): “In our

view, it is God who is preeminently the ‘measure of all

things’, much more so than any man, as they say. So if you want

to recommend yourself to someone of this character, you must do your

level best to make your own character reflect his, and on this

principle the moderate man is God’s friend, being like him,

whereas the immoderate and unjust man is not like him and is his

enemy; and the same reasoning applies to the other vices too.”

But because Plato, like Aristotle after him, carefully refrains from

any kind of specifications of concrete right measures, we should treat

the ‘arithmetic’ of the good life with a pinch of salt.

That individuals differ in their internal and external conditions is

as clear to Plato as it is to Aristotle. This does not shake

Plato’s faith in the Laws that right habituation

through the right kind of education, most of all in the arts, will

provide the necessary inner equilibrium in the soul of the good

citizen.

Are Plato’s views of human nature and the human good more

sympathetic to democratic standards in his last works? If we look at

the requirements in the Timaeus concerning the good state of

the human soul in ‘orderly circles’, Plato seems to remain

as demanding and elitist as ever. But he no longer puts so much

emphasis on the distance between the best and the ordinary. As he

remarks in the Statesman, statesmen don’t stick out

from the rest of humankind in mind and body like the queen-bees do in

the hive (301d-e). Further, even the best of the souls of human beings

are far inferior to the world-soul, because, in the case of human souls,

their ‘incorporation’ means disorder that subsides only

gradually (Ti. 42e-44c). That this applies to all human

beings suggests that Plato has become more democratic in the sense

that he regards the ‘human herd’ as a more uniform flock

than he did in his earlier days. He retains the conviction, however,

that a well-ordered soul is the prerequisite of the good life and that

human beings stand in need not only of a careful moral education but

also of a well-regulated life. Whether a life in Plato’s

nomocracy would better please modern minds than a life ruled by

philosopher-kings is a question that would require a careful perusal

of that enormous compendium of regulations and laws, which makes the

task of reading and understanding the Laws very hard work.

But that compendium is at the same time a valuable sourcebook for all

those interested in Plato’s late moral thought (for a more

detailed evaluation of the Laws, see the entry Plato on

Utopia in SEP by Chris Bobonich and Katherine

Meadows).

Glossary

account: logos

appetitive part: épithumetikon

art: technê

being: ousia

cause: aitia

consonance: sumphonia

courage: andreia

difference: heteron

education: paideia

enthusiasm: enthusiasmos

excellence: aretê

form: eidos, idea

function: ergon

habit: ethos

happiness: eudaimonia

harmony: harmonia

kind: eidos, idea

justice: dikaiosunê

likening to god: homoiôsis theô

limit: peras

look: idea

love: erôs

madness, divine: theia mania

measure: metron; metrion

mixture: meixis

model: paradeigma

moderation: sôphrosunê

need: endeia; chreia

number: arithmos

order: kosmos

perplexity: aporia

quantity: poson

rational part: logistikon

reason: nous

reasoning: logos

recollection: anamnêsis

refutation: elenchos

sameness: tauton

self-mastery: egkrateia

self-sufficiency: autarkeia

soul: psuchê

sort: eidos, idea

spirited part: thumoeides

steadfastness: sôtêria

unlimited: apeiron

virtue: aretê

weakness of the will: akrasia

wisdom: sophia

Bibliography

Translations

Plato: Complete Works, J.M. Cooper & D.S. Hutchinson

(eds.), Indianapolis: Hackett, 1997.

Single-Authored Overviews

Annas, J., 1993, The Morality of Happiness, Oxford:

Oxford University Press.

–––, 1999, Platonic Ethics, Old and

New, Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Brickhouse, T. and Smith, N., 2020, Socratic Moral

Psychology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Cooper, J.M., 2012, Pursuits of Wisdom: Six Ways of Life in

Ancient Philosophy from Socrates to Plotinus, Princeton:

Princeton University Press.

Crombie, I. M., 1963, Plato’s Doctrines, 2 vols.,

London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Dover, K., 1974, Greek Popular Morality in the Time of Plato

and Aristotle, Berkeley: University of California Press.

Irwin, T., 1977, Plato’s Moral Theory: The Early and

Middle Dialogues, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

–––, 1995, Plato’s Ethics,

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2008, The Development of Ethics

(Volume I: From Socrates to the Reformation), Oxford: Oxford

University Press.

Kahn, C., 1996, Plato and the Socratic Dialogue,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Kamtekar, R., 2017, Plato’s moral psychology:

intellectualism, the divided soul, and the desire for good,

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Lorenz, H., 2006, The brute within: appetitive desires in

Plato and Aristotle, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Mann, W., 2006, “Plato in Tübingen: A Discussion of

Konrad Gaiser, Gesammelte Schriften,” Oxford Studies in

Ancient Philosophy, 31: 349–400.

McCabe, M.M., 1994, Plato’s Individuals, Princeton:

Princeton University Press.

–––, 2000, Plato and His Predecessors: the

dramatisation of reason, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Meinwald, C. 2016, Plato, London: Routlege.

Menn, S., 1995, Plato and God as Noûs, Carbondale:

Southern Illinois University Press.

Nails, D., 2002, The People of Plato. A Prosography of Plato

and Other Socratics, Indianapolis: Hackett.

Nehamas, A., 1999, Virtues of Authenticity. Essays on Plato

and Socrates, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Popper, K., 1956, The Open Society and Its Enemies (Vol.

1), revised edition, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Price, A., 1989, Love and Friendship in Plato and

Aristotle, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Prior, W. J. 2019, Socrates, Cambridge: Polity

Press.

Rist, J., 2012, Plato’s moral realism: the discovery of

the presuppositions of ethics, Washington, DC: Catholic

University of America Press.

Rowe, C., 2007, Plato and the Art of Philosophical

Writing,Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Russell, D., 2005, Plato on Pleasure and the Good Life,

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Schofield, M., 2006, Plato: Political Philosophy, Oxford:

Oxford University Press.

Scott, D., 2015, Levels of Argument. A Comparative Study of

Plato’s Republic and Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics,

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Vasiliou, I., 2008, Aiming at Virtue in Plato, Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press.

Vlastos, G., 1981, Platonic Studies, Princeton: Princeton

University Press, second edition.

–––, 1994, Socrates: Ironist and Moral

Philosopher, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Vogt, K., 2012, Belief and Truth: A Sceptic Reading of

Plato, Oxford: Oxford University Press

White, N., 2002, Individual and Conflict in Greek Ethics,

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Wolfsdorf, D., 2013, Pleasure in Ancient Philosophy,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Anthologies

Anagnostopoulos, G. and G. Santas (eds.), 2018, Democracy,

Justice, and Equality in Ancient Greece, Cham: Springer.

Barney, R., Brennan, T., Brittain, C. (eds.), 2012, Plato and

the Divided Self, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Bobonich, C. (ed.), 2010, Plato’s Laws. A Critical

Guide, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Calvo, T. and Brisson, L. (eds.), 1995, Interpreting the

Timaeus and Critias, Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag.

Cornelli, G., Robinson, T., Bravo, F. (eds.), 2019,

Plato’s Phaedo: Selected Papers from the Eleventh Symposium

Platonicum, Baden-Baden: Academia Verlag.

Destrée, P. and Giannopoulou, Z. (eds.), 2016,

Cambridge Critical Guide to Plato’s Symposium,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Detel, W., Becker, A., and Scholz P. (eds.), 2003, Ideal and

Culture of Knowledge in Plato, Stuttgart: Franz Steiner.

Dillon, J. and Brisson, L. (eds.), 2010, Plato’s

Philebus: Selected Papers from the Eighth Symposium Platonicum,

Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag.

Döring, K., Erler, M., Schorn, S. (eds.), 2003,

Pseudoplatonica, Stuttgart: Franz Steiner.

Ebrey, D. and Kraut, R. (eds.), 2022, The Cambridge Companion

to Plato, 2nd edition, Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press.

Erler, M. and Luc Brisson, 2007, Gorgias-Meno:

Selected papers from the Seventh Symposium Platonicum

(International Plato Studies: Volume 25), Sankt Augustin: Academia

Verlag.

Fine, G. (ed.), 1999, Plato 1: Metaphysics and

Epistemology, Plato 2.: Ethics, Politics, Religion, and the

Soul, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

––– (ed.), 2008, The Oxford Handbook of

Plato, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Gill, C. & McCabe, M. M. (eds.), 1996, Form and Argument

in Late Plato, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Griswold, C. (ed.), 1988, Platonic Writings, Platonic

Readings, London: Duckworth.

Hermann, F.-G. (ed.), 2006, New Essays on Plato, Swansea:

The Classical Press of Wales.

Irwin, T., 1995, Plato’s Ethics, Oxford: Oxford

University Press.

Lisi, F. (ed.), 2001, Plato’s Laws and its Historical

Significance, Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag.

McPherran, M. (ed.), 2010, Plato’s Republic, A Critical

Guide, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Mohr, R. and B. Sattler (eds.), 2010, One book, the whole

universe: Plato’s Timaeus today, Las Vegas:

Parmenides Publishing.

Moravcsik, J. M. E. & Temko, P. (eds.), 1982, Plato on

Beauty, Wisdom and the Arts, Totowa, N.J.: Rowman &

Littlefield.

Morrison, D. (ed.), 2012, The Cambridge Companion to

Socrates, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Notomi,N and Brisson, L. (eds.), 2013, Dialogues on

Plato’s Politeia: Selected Papers from the Ninth Symposium

Platonicum, Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag.

Pappas, N. (ed.), 2013, The Routledge Guidebook to

Plato’s Republic. London: Routledge.

Patterson, R., Karasmanis, V., Hermann, A. (eds.), 2012,

Presocratics & Plato. Festschrift in Honor of Charles

Kahn, Las Vegas: Parmenides Publishing.

Robinson, T. (ed.), 2000, Plato: Euthydemus, Lysis, Charmides:

Proceedings of the Fifth Symposium Platonicum, Sankt Augustin:

Academia Verlag.

Rosetti, L. (ed.), 1992, Understanding the Phaedrus:

Proceedings of the Second Symposium Platonicum, Sankt Augustin:

Academia Verlag.

Rowe, C. (ed.), 1995, Reading the Statesman: Proceedings of

the Third Symposium Platonicum, Sankt Augustin: Academia

Verlag.

Santas, G. (ed.), 2006, The Blackwell Guide to Plato’s

Republic, Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing.

Scolnicov, S. and Brisson, L. (eds.), 2003, Plato’s

Laws. Proceedings of the Sixth Symposium Platonicum, Sankt

Augustin: Academia Verlag.

Tulli, M. and Erler, M. (eds.), 2013, Plato in Symposium:

Selected Papers from the Tenth Symposium Platonicum, Sankt

Augustin: Academia Verlag.

Vlastos, G. (ed.), 1971, Plato: A Collection of Critical

Essays (Volume 1: Metaphysics and Epistemology, Volume

2: Ethics, Politics and Philosophy of Art and Religion),

Garden City, NY: Doubleday Anchor.

Wagner, E. (ed.), 2001, Essays on Plato’s

Psychology, Lanham, MD.: Lexington Books.

Problems of chronology

Annas, J. & Rowe, C. (eds.), 2002, New Perspectives on

Plato, Modern and Ancient, Cambridge/Mass.: Harvard University

Press.

Brandwood, L., 1990, The Chronology of Plato’s

Dialogues, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Keyser, P., 1991, “Review of Ledger” (1989), Bryn

Mawr Classical Review, 2:, 422–7.

–––, 1992, “Review of Brandwood”

(1990), Bryn Mawr Classical Review, 3: 58–73.

Ledger, G. R., 1989, Recounting Plato: A Computer Analysis of

Plato’s Style, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Nails, P., 1992, “Platonic Chronology Reconsidered,”

Bryn Mawr Classical Review, 3: 314–27.

Ritter, C., 1888, Untersuchungen über Platon: Die

Echtheit und Chronologie der Platonischen Schriften, Stuttgart:

Kohlhammer.

Ryle, G., 1966, Plato’s Progress, Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press.

Thessleff, H., 1982, Studies in Platonic Chronology,

Helsinki; Societas Scientiarum Fennica.

Young, C. M., 1994, “Plato and Computer Dating,”

Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy, 12: 227–50.

Studies on Plato’s dialogues

The earlier dialogues

Allen, R., 1970, Plato’s Euthyphro and the

Earlier Theory of Forms, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Broadie, S., 2021, Plato’s Sunlike Good, Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press.

Brickhouse, T. & Smith, N., 2004, Plato and the Trial of

Socrates, London: Routledge.

Ebert, T., 2018, Platon: Menon. Übersetzung und

Kommentar, Berlin: De Gruyter.

Frede, D., 1986, “The Impossibility of Perfection:

Socrates’ Criticism of Simonides’ Poem in the

Protagoras,” Review of Metaphysics, 39:

729–753.

Geach, P. T., 1966, “Plato’s Euthyphro: An

Analysis and Commentary,” Monist, 50:

369–82.

Irani, T., 2019, Plato on the Value of Philosophy: The Art of

the Argument in the Gorgias and Phaedrus, Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press.

Irwin, T. (trans.), 1979, Plato: Gorgias, Oxford:

Clarendon Press.

Kraut, R., 1984, Socrates and the State, Princeton:

Princeton University Press.

–––, 1986, “Coercion and Objectivity in

Plato’s Dialectic,” Revue Internationale de

Philosophie, 40: 49–74.

Nehamas, A., 1999a, “Socratic Intellectualism,”

reprinted in Nehamas 1999, Ch. 2.

Penner, T., 1973, “The Unity of Virtue,”

Philosophical Review, 82: 35–68.

Penner, T. & Rowe, C., 2005, Plato’s Lysis,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Robinson, R., 1953, Plato’s Earlier Dialectic,

Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Roochnik, D. L., 1986, “Plato’s use of the

techne-analogy” Journal of the History of Philosophy,

24: 295–310.

Santas, G., 1979, Socrates: Philosophy in Plato’s Early

Dialogues, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Scott, D., 2006, Plato’s Meno. Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press.

Stokes, M., 1986, Plato’s Socratic Conversations: Drama

and Dialectic in Three Dialogues, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins

University Press.

–––, 2005, Dialectic in Action. An

Examination of Plato’s Crito, Swansea: The Classical Press

of Wales.

Taylor, C. C. W. (trans.), 1976, Plato’s

Protagoras, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976.

Vlastos, G., 1991, Socrates, Ironist and Moral

Philosopher, Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

–––, 1994, Socratic Studies, Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press.

–––, 1994a “The Socratic Elenchus: Method

is All,” in Vlastos 1994, 1–28.

Weiss, R., 2001, Virtue in the Cave: moral inquiries in

Plato’s Meno, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

The middle dialogues

Annas, J., 1976, “Plato’s Republic and

Feminism,” Philosophy, 51: 307–21.

–––, 1981, An Introduction to

Plato’s Republic, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Barker, A. & Warner M. (eds.), 1992, The Language of the

Cave, Edmonton: Academic Printing and Publishing.

Barney, R., 2010, “Plato on Desire for the Good,” in

Desire, Good, and Practical Reason, ed. Sergio Tenenbaum,

Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press.

Brown, E., 2012, “The Unity of the Soul in Plato’s

Republic,” in Plato and the Divided Self, eds. Rachel

Barney, Tad Brennan, and Charles Brittain, Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press: 53–73.

Burnyeat, M. F., 2006, “The Truth of Tripartition,”

Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 106:

1–22.

Cooper, J. M., 1999, Reason and Emotion. Essays on Ancient

Moral Psychology and Ethical Theory, Princeton: Princeton

University Press.

–––, 1999a, “Plato’s Theory of Human

Motivation,” in Cooper 1999, ch. 5.

–––, 1999b, “The Psychology of Justice in

Plato,” in Cooper 1999, ch. 4.

Cross, R. C. & Woozley, A. D., 1964, Plato’s

Republic: A Philosophical Commentary, London: Macmillan.

Ferrari, G., 2005, City and Soul in Plato’s

Republic. Chicago: Chicago University Press.

––– (ed.), 2007, The Cambridge Companion to

Plato’s Republic, Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press.

Hunter, R., 2004, Plato’s Symposium, Oxford: Oxford

University Press.

Kamtekar, R., 2017, Plato’s Moral Psychology:

Intellectualism, the Divided Soul, and the Desire for Good,

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Klosko, G., 1986, The Development of Plato’s Political

Thought, New York: Methuen.

Lesher, J. & Nails, D, and Sheffield, F. (eds.), 2006,

Plato’s Symposium: issues of interpretation and

reception, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.

Morrison, D., 2001, “The Happiness of the City and the

Happiness of the Individual in Plato’s Republic,”

Ancient Philosophy, 21: 1–24.

Moss, J., 2006, “Pleasure and Illusion in Plato,”

Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 72(3):

503–35.

Ober, J., 1998, Political Dissent in Democratic Athens,

Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Reeve, D.C.D., 1988, Philosopher Kings: The Argument of

Plato’s Republic, Princeton: Princeton University

Press.

––– 2013, Blindness and Reorientation:

Problems in Plato’s Republic , Oxford: Oxford University

Press.

Robinson, R., 1971, “Plato’s separation of reason and

desire,” Phronesis, 16: 38–48.

Sachs, D., 1971, “A Fallacy in Plato’s

Republic,” repr. in Vlastos 1971 (Volume 1), ch.

Santas, G., 1985, “Two theories of the good in Plato’s

Republic,” Archiv für Geschichte der

Philosophie, 57: 223–45.

Sheffield, F., 2006, Plato’s Symposium.The

Ethics of Desire, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Schofield, M., 1999, Saving the City: Philosopher-Kings and

other Classical Paradigms, London: Routledge & Kegan

Paul.

Singpurwalla, R., 2019, “Plato and the Tripartition of the

Soul,” in J. Sisko (ed.), Philosophy of Mind in

Antiquity (History of Philosophy of Mind, Volume 1),

London: Routledge, 101–119.

White, N., 1979, A Companion to Plato’s Republic,

Indianapolis: Hackett.

Williams, B.A.O., 1973, “The Analogy of city and soul in

Plato’s Republic,” in E.N Lee, A.P.D. Mourelatos

and R.M. Rorty (eds.), Exeqesis and Argument (Phronesis

Supplementary Volume 1, Chapter 10); reprinted in G. Fine (ed.),

Plato (Volume 2: Ethics, Politics, Religion and Soul),

Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999.

The later dialogues

Bobonich, C., 2002, Plato’s Utopia recast: his later

ethics and politics, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Broadie, S., 2012, Nature and Divinity in Plato’s

Timaeus, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2012

Brisson, L., 1998, Le même et l’autre dan la

structure ontologique du Timée de Platon, Sankt Augustin:

Academia Verlag.

Carone, G., 2005, Plato’s Cosmology and Its Ethical

Dimensions, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Cherniss, H., 1957, “The Relation of the Timaeus to

Plato’s Later Dialogues,” American Journal of

Philology, 78: 225–66.

Cooper, J. M., 1999c, “Plato’s Statesman and

Politics,” in Cooper 1999, ch. 7.

Cornford, F. M., 1937, Plato’s Cosmology, London:

Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Delcomminette, S., 2006, Le Philèbe de Platon:

Introduction a L’agathologie platonicienne, Leiden:

Brill

Dorter, K., 1994, Form and Good in Plato’s Eleatic

Dialogues, Berkeley: University of California Press.

Ferrari, G., 1987, Listening to the Cicadas: a study of

Plato’s Phaedrus, Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press.

–––, 1992, “Platonic Love,” in Kraut

(ed.), 1992, ch. 8.

Frede, D. (trans.), 1993, Plato Philebus (with

introduction and notes by the translator), Indianapolis: Hackett.

–––, 1992, “Disintegration and

restoration: Pleasure and Pain in the Philebus,” in R.

Kraut (ed.) 1992, 425–63.

–––, 1997, Platon Philebos: Übersetzung

und Kommentar, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.

Gregory, A., 2000, Plato’s Philosophy of Science,

London: Duckworth.

Griswold, C. L., 1986, Self-Knowledge in Plato’s

Phaedrus, New Haven: Yale University Press.

Johansen, T., 2006, Plato’s Natural Philosophy: A Study

of the Timaeus-Critias, Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press.

Kahn, C. H., 2013, Plato and the Post-Socratic Dialogue. The

Return to the Philosophy of Nature, Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press.

Kosman, L. A., 1976, “Platonic Love,” in W.H.

Werkmeister (ed.), 1976, 53–69.

Lane, M., 1998, Method and Politics in Plato’s

Statesman, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Laks, A., 2022, Plato’s Second Republic: An Essay on

the Laws, Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Lee, E. N., 1976, “Reason and Rotation: Circular Movement as

the Model of the Mind (Nous) in the Later Plato,” in

W.H. Werkmeister (ed.) 1976, 70–102.

Lennox, J., 1985, “Plato’s Unnatural Teleology,”

in O’Meara (ed.) 1985, 195–218.

Lisi, F. (ed.), 2001, Plato’s Laws and its

Historical Significance, Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag.

Mayhew, R., 2008, Plato: Laws 10. Translation with

Commentary, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2008.

Menn, S., 2019, “On the Digression in the Theaetetus,”

Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy, LVII (Dedicated to John

Cooper): 65–120.

Meyer, S. Sauvé, 2015, Plato, Laws I and II

(translation and commentary), Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Mohr, R., 1985, The Platonic Cosmology, Leiden:

Brill.

Moravcsik, J. M. E., 1979, “Forms, Nature and the Good in

the Philebus,” Phronesis, 24:

81–104.

–––, 1982, “Noetic Aspiration and Artistic

Inspiration,” in J.M.E. Moravcsik & P. Tempko (eds.) 1982,

29–46.

Morrow, G. R., 1993, Plato’s Cretan City,

Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Parry, R. D., 1991, “The Intelligible World-Animal in

Plato’s Timaeus,” Journal of the History of

Philosophy 29: 13–22.

Pelikan, J., 1997, What Has Athens to Do with Jerusalem?

Timaeus and Genesis in Counterpoint, Ann Arbor:

University of Michigan Press.

Rowe, C. (ed.), 1995, “Reading the

Statesman”. Proceedings of the III. Symposium

Platonicum, Sankt Augustin: Academia Verlag.

Saunders, T. and L. Brisson, 2000, Bibliography on

Plato’s Laws, 3rd edition, revised and completed with an

additional bibliography on the Epinomis by Luc Brisson, Sankt

Augustin: Academia Verlag.

Schäfer, L., 2005, Das Paradigma am Himmel. Platon

über Natur und Staat, Freiburg: Karl Alber.

Sedley, D., 2003, The Midwife of Platonism. Text and Subtext

in Plato’s Theaetetus, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

–––, 2007, Creationism and Its Critics in

Antiquity, Berkeley: University of California Press.

Scolnicov, S. & Brisson, L., 2003, Plato’s

Laws: from theory into practice: Proceedings of the VI. Symposium

Platonicum, St. Augustin: Academia Verlag.

Tracy, T. J., 1969, Physiological Theory and the Doctrine of

the Mean in Plato and Aristotle, The Hague: Mouton.

Vlastos, G., 1975, Plato’s Universe, Seattle:

University of Washington Press.

–––, 1988, “Elenchus and Mathematics: A

Turning-Point in Plato’s Philosophical Development,”

American Journal of Philology, 109: 362–396.

White, D. A., 1993, Rhetoric and Reality in Plato’s

‘Phaedrus’, Albany: State University of New York

Press.

Zeyl, D. (trans.), 2000, Plato’s Timaeus (with

Introduction and Notes), Hackett: Indianapolis 2000.

Academic Tools

How to cite this entry.

Preview the PDF version of this entry at the

Friends of the SEP Society.

Look up topics and thinkers related to this entry

at the Internet Philosophy Ontology Project (InPhO).

Enhanced bibliography for this entry

at PhilPapers, with links to its database.

Other Internet Resources

[Please contact the authors with suggestions.]

Related Entries

Anaxagoras |

Archytas |

Aristotle |

ethics: virtue |

hedonism |

Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich: dialectics |

metaphysics |

Plato |

Platonism: in metaphysics |

Popper, Karl |

Presocratic Philosophy |

Pythagoras |

Pythagoreanism |

self-knowledge |

Simplicius |

transcendentalism

Dorothea Frede

Mi-Kyoung Lee

Open access to the SEP is made possible by a world-wide funding initiative.

The Encyclopedia Now Needs Your Support

Please Read How You Can Help Keep the Encyclopedia Free

Browse

Table of Contents

What's New

Random Entry

Chronological

Archives

About

Editorial Information

About the SEP

Editorial Board

How to Cite the SEP

Special Characters

Advanced Tools

Accessibility

Contact

Support SEP

Support the SEP

PDFs for SEP Friends

Make a Donation

SEPIA for Libraries

Mirror Sites

View this site from another server:

USA (Main Site)

Philosophy, Stanford University

Info about mirror sites

Library of Congress Catalog Data: ISSN 1095-5054

Chinese Ethics (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy/Fall 2017 Edition)

Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy ArchiveFall 2017 Edition

Browse

Table of Contents

New in this Archive

Chronological

Archives

About

Editorial Information

About the SEP

Editorial Board

How to Cite the SEP

Special Characters

Contact

Support SEP

Support the SEP

PDFs for SEP Friends

Make a Donation

SEPIA for Libraries

Entry Navigation

Entry Contents

Bibliography

Academic Tools

Friends PDF Preview

Author and Citation Info

Chinese EthicsFirst published Thu Jan 10, 2008; substantive revision Wed Mar 13, 2013

The tradition of Chinese ethical thought is centrally concerned with

questions about how one ought to live: what goes into a worthwhile

life, how to weigh duties toward family versus duties toward

strangers, whether human nature is predisposed to be morally good or

bad, how one ought to relate to the non-human world, the extent to

which one ought to become involved in reforming the larger social and

political structures of one's society, and how one ought to conduct

oneself when in a position of influence or power. The personal,

social, and political are often intertwined in Chinese approaches to

the subject. Anyone who wants to draw from the range of important

traditions of thought on this subject needs to look seriously at the

Chinese tradition. The canonical texts of that tradition have been

memorized by schoolchildren in Asian societies for hundreds of years,

and at the same time have served as objects of sophisticated and

rigorous analysis by scholars and theoreticians rooted in widely

variant traditions and approaches. This article will introduce

ethical issues raised by some of the most influential texts in

Confucianism, Mohism, Daoism, Legalism, and Chinese Buddhism.

1. Characteristics of Chinese Ethics: Practical Focus and Closeness to Pre-theoretical Experience

2. Confucian Ethics

2.1 Virtue ethics: the dao, the junzi, and ren

2.2 The centrality of li or ritual

2.3 Ren and li as relational values in contrast to values of individual autonomy

2.4 The centrality of filial piety in Confucian ethics and the doctrine of love with distinctions

2.5 Mencius's defense of love with distinctions and his theory of the roots of moral knowledge and motivation in human nature

2.6 Xunzi versus Mencius on human nature and the origins of morality

2.7 Confucianism and the situationist problem for virtue ethics

2.8 Neo-Confucian theories of morality and their grounding in a cosmology

3. Mohist Ethics

4. Daoist Ethics

4.1 Ethical perspectives drawn from the Daodejing: the “soft” style of action and social primitivism

4.2 Ethical perspectives from Zhuangzi: skeptical questioning, attunement to the grain of things, inclusion and acceptance

5. Legalism

6. Chinese Buddhist Ethics

Bibliography

Academic Tools

Other Internet Resources

Related Entries

1. Characteristics of Chinese Ethics: Practical Focus and Closeness to Pre-theoretical Experience

In the Analects 13.18, the Governor of She tells Confucius

of a Straight Body who reported his father to the authorities for

stealing a sheep. Confucius (Kongzi, best known in the West under his

latinized name, lived in the 6th and 5th

century B.C.E) replies that in his village, uprightness lies in

fathers and sons covering up for each other. In the

Euthyphro, Socrates encounters Euthyphro (whose name can be

translated as “Straight thinker”), reputed for his

religious knowledge and on his way to bring charges against his

father for murder. The conversation between Socrates and Euthyphro

leads to a theoretical inquiry in which various proposed answers as

to piety's ousia (essence) are probed and ultimately found

unsatisfactory, but in which no answer to the piety or impiety of

Euthyphro's action is given. The contrast between these two stories

highlights one of the distinctive features of Chinese ethics in

general: its respect for the practical problem. The practical problem

discussed by Confucius and Socrates is arguably a universal one: the

conflict between loyalty owed to a family member and duty to uphold

public justice within the larger community. Confucius's response is

one dimension of a characteristically Chinese respect for the

practical problem. The nature of the problem demands a practical

response. However, another dimension of a reflective respect

for the practical problem is to maintain a certain humility in the

face of a really hard problem. It is to be skeptical that highly

abstract theories will provide a response that is true to the

complexities of that problem. A tradition exemplifying such respect

will contain influential works that will not pretend to have resolved

recurring tensions within the moral life such as those identified in

the Analects and the Euthyphro.

Confucius gives an immediate practical answer in 13.18, but the

reader and commentators have been left to weave together the various

remarks about filial piety so as to present a rationale for that

answer. These remarks quite often concern rather particular matters,

as is the matter of turning in one's father for stealing a sheep, and

the implications for more general issues are ambiguous. Do fathers

and sons cover up for each other on all occasions, no matter how

serious, and if there is a cover-up, is there also an attempt to

compensate the victim of the wrongdoing? The particularity of these

passages is tied up with the emphasis on praxis. What is sought and

what is discussed is often the answer to a particular practical

problem, and the resulting particularity of the remarks invites

multiple interpretations. The sayings often are presented as emerging

from conversations between Confucius and his students or various

personages with official positions, or among Confucius's students.

One passage (11.22) portrays Confucius as having tailored his advice

according to the character of the particular student: he urges one

student to ask father and elder brother for advice before practicing

something he has learnt, while he urges the other to immediately

practice; the reason is that the first has so much energy that he

needs to be kept back, while the second is retiring and needs to be

urged forward. With this passage in mind, we might then wonder

whether the apparent tension between remarks made in connection with

a concept is to be understood in terms of the differences between the

individuals addressed or the context of the conversation.

All texts that have become canonical within a tradition, of course,

are subject to multiple interpretations, but Chinese texts invite

them. They invite them by articulating themes that stay relatively

close to the pre-theoretical experience that gives rise to the

practical problems of moral life (see Kupperman, 1999 on the role of

experience in Chinese philosophy). The pre-theoretical is not

experience that is a pure given or unconceptualized, nor is it

necessarily experience that is universal in its significance and

intelligibility across different traditions of thought and culture.

This attention to pre-theoretical experience also leads to

differences in format and discursive form: dialogues and stories are

more suited for appealing to and evoking the kind of pre-theoretical

experience that inspires parts of the text. By contrast, much Western

philosophy has gone with Plato in taking the route of increasing

abstraction from pre-theoretical experience.

The contrast is not meant to imply that Chinese philosophy fails to

give rise to theoretical reflection. Theoretical reflection of great

significance arises in the Mozi, Mencius,

Hanfeizi, Xunzi, and Zhuangzi, but there

is more frequent interplay between the theorizing and references to

pre-theoretical experience. In Chinese texts there are suggestions

for theorizing about this experience, but the suggestions often

indicate several different and fruitful directions for theorizing to

go further. These directions may seem incompatible, and they may or

may not be so in the end, but the tensions between these directions

are real. The result is a fruitful ambiguity that poses a

problematic. Pre-theoretical experience poses a practical

problem. Apparently incompatible solutions to problems are partially

theorized in the text, but the apparent incompatibility is not

removed. Much of the value of these texts lies in their leaving the

tensions in place with enough theory given to stimulate thinking

within a certain broadly defined approach. There is more than enough

for the sophisticated theorist to try to interpret or to reconstruct

a more defined position as an extension of that broadly defined

approach. At the same time, the problematic is partly framed with the

language of pre-theoretical experience in the form of dialogue and

story, making the texts accessible to a much broader range of readers

than is usually the case with philosophy texts. The following

sections present some of the major kinds of problematic that appear

in the major schools of Chinese ethical thought.

2. Confucian Ethics

2.1 Virtue ethics: the dao, the junzi, and ren

Confucian ethics is focused around ideals of character and the

constituting traits or virtues. The most frequently discussed ideal

is that of the junzi. The Chinese word originally meant

“prince's son,” but in the Analects it refers to

ethical nobility. The first English translations rendered it

as “gentleman,” but Ames and Rosemont (1998) have usefully

suggested “exemplary person.” Among the traits connected

to ethical nobility are filial piety, a respect for and dedication to

the performance of traditional ritual forms of conduct, and the

ability to judge what the right thing to do is in the given

situation. These traits are virtues in the sense that they are

necessary for following the dao, the way human beings ought

to live their lives. As Yu (2007) points out, the dao plays

the kind of role in ancient Chinese ethics that is analogous to the

role played by

eudaimonia or flourishing, in ancient Greek ethics. The

junzi is the ethical exemplar with the virtues making it

possible to follow the dao.

Besides the concepts of dao and junzi, the concept

of ren is a unifying theme in the Analects. Before

Confucius's time, the concept of ren referred to the

aristocracy of bloodlines, meaning something like the strong and

handsome appearance of an aristocrat. But in the Analects the

concept is of a moral excellence that anyone has the potential to

achieve. Various translations have been given of ren. Many

translations attempt to convey the idea of complete ethical virtue,

connoting a comprehensive state of ethical excellence. In a number of

places in the Analects the ren person is treated as

equivalent to the junzi, indicating that ren has the

meaning of complete or comprehensive moral excellence, lacking no

particular virtue but having them all. However, ren in some

places in the Analects is treated as one virtue among others

such as wisdom and courage. In the narrower sense of being one virtue

among others, it is explained in 12.22 in terms of caring for others.

It is in light of these passages that other translators, such as D.C.

Lau, use ‘benevolence’ to translate ren.

However, others have tried to more explicitly convey the sense of

‘ren’ in the comprehensive sense of

all-encompassing moral virtue through use of the translation

‘Good’ or ‘Goodness’ (see Waley, 1938, 1989;

Slingerland, 2003). It is possible that the sense of ren as

particular virtue and the sense of comprehensive excellence are

related in that attitudes such as care and respect for others may be a

pervasive aspect of different forms of moral excellence, e.g., such

attitudes may be expressed in ritual performance, as discussed below,

or in right or appropriate action according to the context. But this

suggestion is speculative, and because the very nature of ren

remains so elusive, it shall be here referred to simply

as‘ren’.

Why is the central virtue discussed in such an elusive fashion in

the Analects? The answer may lie in the role that

pre-theoretical experience plays in Chinese philosophy. Tan (2005)

has pointed to the number and vividness of the persons in

the Analects who serve as moral exemplars. She suggests that

the text invites us to exercise our imaginations in envisioning what

these people might have been like and what we ourselves might become

in trying to emulate them. Use of the imagination, she points out,

draws our attention to the particularities of virtue and engages our

emotions and desires. Amy Olberding (2008, 2012) develops the notion

of exemplarism into a Confucian epistemology, according to which we

get much of our important knowledge by encountering the relevant

objects or persons. Upon initial contact, we may have little general

knowledge of the qualities that make them so compelling to us, but we

are motivated to further investigate. Confucius treated as exemplars

legendary figures from the early days of the Zhou dynasty, such as the

Duke of Zhou and Kings Wu and Wen. Confucius served as an exemplar to

his students, perhaps of the virtue of ren, though he never

claimed the virtue for himself. Book Ten of the Analects

displays what might appear to be an obsessive concern with the way

Confucius greeted persons in everyday life, e.g., if he saw they were

dressed in mourning dress, he would take on a solemn appearance or

lean forward on the stanchion of his carriage. Such concern becomes

much more comprehensible if Confucius is being treated as an exemplar

of virtue from which the students are trying to learn. The focus of

Book Ten and elsewhere in the Analects also suggests that the

primary locus of virtue is to be found in how people treat each other

in the fabric of everyday life and not in the dramatic moral dilemmas

so much discussed in contemporary Western moral philosophy.

2.2 The centrality of li or ritual

Analects 1.15 likens the project of cultivating one's

character to crafting something fine from raw material: cutting bone,

carving a piece of horn, polishing or grinding a piece of jade. The

chapter also stresses the importance of li (the rites,

ritual) in this project. In the Analects ritual includes

ceremonies of ancestor worship, the burial of parents, and the rules

governing respectful and appropriate behavior between parents and

children. Later the word came to cover a broad range of customs and

practices that spelled out courteous and respectful behavior of many

different kinds. Engaging in ritual, learning to perform it properly

and with the right attitudes of respect while performing it, is to

engage in a kind of cutting and carving and polishing and grinding of

the self. One of the most distinctive marks of Confucian ethics is

the centrality of ritual performance in the ethical cultivation of

character. For example, while Aristotelian habituation generally

corresponds to the Confucian cultivation of character, there

is no comparable emphasis in Aristotle on the role of ritual

performance in this process of character transformation. Yet

Confucians will say that any complete description of self-cultivation

must include a role for the culturally established customs that spell

out what it means to express respect for another person in various

social contexts. Just how that role is conceived in the

Analects is one of the central interpretive puzzles

concerning the Analects. The interpretive question of

how li is central to self-cultivation is posed in

particular about its relation to the chief virtue of ren.

In the Analects 3.3 the Master said, “A man who is not

ren—what has he to do with ritual?” The

implication is that ritual is a means of cultivating and expressing a

ren that is already there, at least in a raw or unrefined

state. This implication about the role of ritual is

consistent with passages of the Analects in which Confucius

shows flexibility on the question of whether to follow established

ritual practice. 9.3 shows him accepting the contemporary practice of

wearing a cheaper silk ceremonial cap rather than the traditional

linen cap. 9.3 also shows Confucius rejecting the contemporary

practice of bowing after one ascends the stairs leading up to the

ruler's dais, and maintaining the traditional practice of bowing

before one ascends the stairs. The implication is that the

contemporary practice expresses the wrong attitude toward the

ruler—presumptuousness in assuming permission to ascend. 9.3

suggests that it is something like the right attitude that is

cultivated and expressed by ritual. Kwong-loi Shun (1993) has called

this kind of understanding of ritual the “instrumental”

interpretation.

However, in other places of the Analects, ritual seems to

take on a more central role in the achievement of ren.

Indeed, it seems to be presented as the key. A very common

translation of 12.1 has Confucius telling his favorite student Yan Hui

that “Restraining yourself and returning to the rites

constitutes ren. If for one day you managed to restrain

yourself and return to the rites, in this way you could lead the

entire world back to ren. The key to achieving ren

lies within yourself—how could it come from others?”

(translation from Slingerland, 2003, though see Li, 2007, for a

different translation of the word wei usually translated as

‘constitutes’, with different implications for the

question of the relation between li and ren). Such

passages have given rise to the “definitionalist”

interpretation, as Shun calls it, which makes li definitive

of the whole of ren. Obviously the instrumental and

definitional interpretations cannot both be true.

Some have argued that such serious conflicts within the text

constitute reasons for thinking that the Analects is an

accretive text, i.e., composed of layers added at different times by

different people with conflicting views. To some extent, viewing

the Analects as accretive is nothing new, but Bruce and

A. Takeo Brooks (1998, 2000) recently have taken that view very far by

identifying Book 4 (and only part of it, for that matter) as the most

reflective of the historical Kongzi's views, and the other books as

stemming from Confucius's students and members of his family. The

different books, and, sometimes, individual passages within the books,

represent different time periods, people, with different agendas who

are responding to different conditions, and often putting forward

incompatible strands of Confucianism. The Brooks suggest that the

parts of the Analects most directly associated with the

historical Confucius and his disciples are the parts that

feature ren as the pre-eminent virtue and that de-emphasize

the role of ritual. The parts that are due to another trend

in Confucianism, headed by Confucius's descendants, are the parts that

elevate ritual as the key to ren. The Brooks's theory of

the Analects has drawn appreciation and disagreement (e.g.,

see Slingerland, 2000 for both). It threatens to dislodge the

assumption that underlies the dominant mode of interpreting

the Analects, which is that the text, or most of it, reflects

the coherent thought of one person.

One response to this interpretive challenge is to acknowledge the real

possibility that different sets of passages are the products of

different thinkers, but also to hold that these different people, even

if they have different pragmatic and political agendas (a factor that

the Brooks tend to emphasize), might also have had different and

philosophically substantial perspectives on common problems. One of

those problems might indeed have been the relation

between ren and

li, and at least part of the explanation of why different

and potentially conflicting things are said about that relation is

that the relation is a difficult one to figure out and that different

thinkers addressing that common problem might reasonably have arrived

at different things to say. Whether these different things are

ultimately irreconcilable remains an open question. One might take a

constructive attitude to these differences, ask what good

philosophical reasons could motivate the different approaches, and

ask whether there is a way of reconciling what all the good reasons

entail.

Kwong-loi Shun's approach exemplifies such a reconciling strategy. He

holds that on the one hand, a particular set of ritual forms are the

conventions that a community has evolved, and without such forms

attitudes such as respect or reverence cannot be made intelligible or

expressed (the truth behind the definitionalist interpretation). In

this sense, li constitutes ren within or for a given

community. On the other hand, different communities may have different

conventions that express respect or reverence, and moreover any given

community may revise its conventions in piecemeal though not wholesale

fashion (the truth behind the instrumentalist interpretation).

Chenyang Li (2007) proposes a different approach based on a different

reading of the word ‘wei’ used in 12.1 and often

translated as ‘constitutes’ to render the crucial line,

“Restraining yourself and returning to the rites

constitutes ren.” Li notes that a common meaning of the

word is ‘make’ or ‘result in.’ The relation

between li and ren need not be construed as either

definitional or constitutive, nor need it be construed as purely

instrumental. Li proposes that li functions something like a

cultural grammar where ren is like mastery of the culture.

Mastery of a language entails mastery of its grammar but not vice

versa.

Both Shun and Li are striving to capture a way in

which ren does not reduce to li but also a way in

which li is more than purely instrumental to the realization

of ren. There are good philosophical reasons for this move.

Consider the reasons for resisting the reduction of

ren to li. As indicated above, 9.3 suggests that

the attitudes of respect and reverence that are expressed by ritual

forms are not reducible to any particular set of such forms, and Shun

has a point in arguing that such attitudes could be expressed by

different sets of such forms as established by different communities.

In studying the cultures of other communities, we recognize that

certain customs are meant to signify respect, even if we do not share

these customs, just as we recognize that something that does not

signify disrespect in our culture does indeed so signify in another

culture. The fact that we can distinguish the attitude from the

ritual forms that we use to express them allows us to consider

alternative ritual forms that could express the same attitude.

Ceremonial caps that are made of more economical material are

acceptable, perhaps, because wearing such caps rather than the

material ones need not affect the spirit of the ceremony. By

contrast, bowing after one ascends the stairs constitutes an

unacceptable change in attitude. To maintain that particular ritual

forms do not define the respect and reverence they are

intended to express is not to underestimate their importance for

cultivating and strengthening these attitudes. Acting in ways that

express respect given the conventionally established meanings of

accepted ritual forms helps to strengthen the agent's disposition to

have respect. The ethical development of character does involve

strengthening some emotional dispositions over others. We strengthen

dispositions by acting on them. By providing conventionally

established, symbolic ways to express respect for others, ritual

forms give participants ways to act on and therefore to strengthen

the right dispositions.

On the other hand, there is good reason to resist the reduction of

li simply to the role of expressing and cultivating a set of

attitudes and emotional dispositions. In his influential

interpretation (1972) of the Analects, Herbert Fingarette

construes ritual performance as an end in itself, as beautiful and

dignified, open and shared participation in ceremonies that celebrate

human community. Ritual performance, internalized so that it becomes

second nature, such that it is gracefully and spontaneously

performed, is a crucial constituent of a fully realized human life.

There are nonconventional dimensions of what it is to show respect,

such as providing food for one's parents (see Analects 2.7),

but the particular way the agent does this will be deeply influenced

by custom. Indeed, custom specifies what is a respectful way of

serving food. On the Confucian view, doing so in a graceful and

whole-hearted fashion as spelled out by the customs of one's

community is part of what it is to live a fully human life.

Ritual constitutes an important part of what ren is, and hence

it is not merely an instrument for refining the substance of

ren. At the same time it is not the whole of ren. Consider

that part of ren that involves attitudinal dispositions.

Attitude is not reducible to ritual form even if acting on that form

can cultivate and sustain attitude. Moreover, 7.30 emphasizes the

connection between desire for ren and its achievement (“If

I simply desire ren, I find that it is already there”).

The achievement of ren is of course a difficult and long

journey, and so 7.30 implies that coming to truly desire it lies at

the heart of that achievement. The multifaceted nature of ren

emerges in Book 12, where Confucius is portrayed as giving different

descriptions of ren. In 12.1, as already noted, he says that

ritual makes for ren. But then in 12.2, he says that ren

involves comporting oneself in public as if one were receiving an

important guest and in the management of the common people behaving

as if one were overseeing a great sacrifice (the duty to be

respectful toward others). 12.2 also associates ren with

shu or “sympathetic understanding,” not imposing

on others what you yourself do not desire. Here the emphasis is not so

much on ritual or not exclusively anyway, but on the attitudes one

displays toward others, and on the ability to understand what others

want or do not want based on projecting oneself into their situation.

In 12.3, when asked about ren, Confucius says

that ren people are hesitant to speak (suggesting that such

people take extreme care not to have their words exceed their

actions). And then in 12.22, when asked about ren, Confucius

says that it is to care for people. Such diverse characterizations are

appropriate if ren is complete ethical virtue or

comprehensive excellence that includes many dimensions, including but

not reducing to the kinds of excellence associated

with li.

If we take the relevant passages on li and ren as

forming a whole in which a coherent view is embedded, there is a

pretty good case for regarding the observance of ritual propriety as a

constituent of ren as well as crucial for instrumentally

realizing some other dimensions of ren. But it does not

exhaust the substance of ren. If the text is as radically

accretive as the Brooks maintain, then the proposed construal of the

relation is more of a reconstruction of what the best philosophical

position might be on the nature of the relation. The reconstructive

possibility should not be disturbing as long as we recognize it for

what it is. Thinkers within a complex and vigorous tradition

frequently re-interpret, expand, develop, revise, and even reject some

of what one has inherited from the past. The fact that the

Analects itself might be a product of this kind of

engagement might usefully be taken as encouragement for its present

students to engage with the text in the same way.

The Confucian position on the importance of li in ethical

cultivation is interesting and distinctive in its own right, and this

is partly because Confucianism hews close to a kind of

pre-theoretical experience of the moral life that might otherwise get

obscured by a more purely theoretical approach to ethics. If we look

at everyday experience of the moral life, we see that much of the

substance of ethically significant attitudes such as respect is in

fact given by cultural norms and practices, and learning a morality

must involve learning these norms and practices. Children learn what

their behavior means to others, and what it should mean, by learning

how to greet each other, make requests, and answer requests, all in a

respectful manner. Much of our everyday experience of moral

socialization lies in the absorption of or teaching to others of

customs that are conventionally established to mean respect,

gratitude, and other ethically significant attitudes. So construed,

Confucian ethics provides an alternative to understanding the nature

of the moral life that is different from an understanding that is

primarily based on abstract principles, even abstract principles that

require respect for each person. This is why there is significant

resonance between Confucianism and communitarian philosophies such as

those defended by Alasdair MacIntyre (1984, 1989) and Michael Walzer

(1983). One of the distinctive marks of communitarianism is the theme

that much of the substance of a morality is given not in abstract

principles of the sort typically defended in modern Western

philosophy but in a society's specific customs and practices. In the

Analects, the ambiguous relation between ren and

li poses the problematic of how we are to understand the

relation between cultural norms and practices on the one hand and

that part of morality that appears to transcend any particular set of

norms and practices. The Analects suggests a large role for

culture, but on the reading suggested here, not a definitional role.

There is much room for theoretical elaboration on the nature of that

role.

Furthermore, in understanding why Confucians take a life of ritual

practice to be partly constitutive of a fully human life, one must

understand the aesthetic dimension of their notion of a fully human

life. Such a life is lived as a beautiful and graceful coordinated

interaction with others according to conventionally established forms

that express mutual respect. A good of the value attached to the fully

human life lies in the aesthetic dimensions of a “dance”

(Ihara, 2004) one performs with others. To better understand why the

moral and the aesthetic cannot be cleanly separated in Confucian

ethics, consider that a graceful and whole-hearted expression of

respect can be beautiful precisely because it reflects the extent that

the agent has made this moral attitude part of her second nature. The

beauty has a moral dimension. Both these themes—the importance

of contextualized moral judgment and aesthetic value of human

interaction according to custom and tradition—offer

opportunities for practitioners of, say, Anglo-American moral

philosophy to reflect on what their approaches to the moral life might

miss.

2.3 Ren and li as relational values in contrast to values of individual autonomy

Consider ren in its meaning as the particular virtue of

caring for others and li in its aspect as the valued human

dance. These values are the basis for characterizing Confucian ethics

as a relational ethic, meaning that it is in part distinguished by its

placement of relationships at the center of a well-lived life (see

Ames, 2011). Confucian ethics are often taken to stand in contrast to

ethics that place individual autonomy and freedom to choose how to

live. While there is much that is true about this contrast, it must be

carefully described so as to differentiate it from some other

contrasts. For example, the value of individual autonomy usually

includes several different dimensions that do not necessarily

accompany one another: (1) prioritizing of individual interests over

group or collective interests when these conflict; (2) giving moral

permission to the individual to choose from a significantly wide range

(within certain moral boundaries) of ways to live; and (3) emphasizing

the importance of living according to one's own understanding of what

is right and good even if others do not see it the same way.

Confucian ethics in significant part, though not in all parts, accepts

autonomy in the sense of (3) (see Shun, 2004; and Brindley,

2010). Confucius is often depicted in the Analects as

emphasizing the importance of cultivating one's own character even

when others do not recognize or appreciate one's efforts (e.g., 4.14)

and of acting independently of what is conventionally approved or

disapproved (e.g., 5.1). The texts associated with Mencius (Mengzi,

best known in the West under his Latinized name, lived in the 4th

century B.C.E.) and Xunzi (4th and 3rd centuries

B.C.E.), the most pivotal thinkers in the classical Confucian

tradition after Confucius, both articulate the necessity to speak up

when one believes the ruler one is serving is on a wrong course of

action (e.g., Mencius 1A3 and Xunzi 29.2). On the

other hand, none of these classical thinkers argue for the necessity

of protecting a frank subordinate from a ruler who is made angry by

criticism, and it could be argued that Confucianism does not fully

endorse autonomy in sense (3) without endorsing such protection for

those who wish to engage in moral criticism of the powerful.

Most interpretations present Confucian ethics as rejecting (2). There

is a way for human beings to live, a comprehensive human good to be

realized, and there can be no choosing between significantly

different ways of life that are equally acceptable from a moral

perspective (an important exception to this kind of interpretation is

provided by Hall and Ames, 1987, who interpret Confucius's

dao as a human invention, collective and individual). On the

other hand, Confucian ethics de-emphasizes legal coercion as a method

for guiding people along the way and instead an puts the emphasis on

moral exhortation and inspiration by way of example (see, most

famously, 2.3 of the Analects, which emphasizes the

necessity of a ruler's guiding his people by instilling in them a sense

of shame rather than by the threat of external punishment). While a

Confucian might believe in a single correct way for human beings, she

might endorse a significant degree of latitude for people to learn

from their own mistakes and by way of example from others (see Chan,

1999).

Confucian ethics does not accept (1), but not because it subordinates

individual interests to group or collective interests (for criticism

of the rather common interpretation of Confucianism as prioritizing

the group over the individual, see Hall and Ames 1998). Rather, there

is a different conception of the relationship between individual and

group interests. The best illustration of this different conception

is a story to be found in the Mencius that concerns

sage-king Shun. When Shun wanted to marry, he knew that his father,

influenced by his stepmother, would not allow him to marry. In this

difficult situation, Shun decided to marry without telling his

father, even though he is renowned for his filial piety. Mencius in

fact defends the filiality of Shun's act in 5A2. He observes that

Shun knew that he would not have been allowed to marry if he told his

father. This would have resulted in bitterness toward his parents,

and that is why he did not tell them. The implication of this version

of Shun's reason is that filiality means preserving an emotionally

viable relationship with one's parents, and in the case at hand Shun

judged that it would have been worse for the relationship to have

asked permission to marry. The conception of the relation between

individual and group interests embodied in this story is not one of

subordination of one to the other but about the mutual dependence

between the individual and the group. The individual depends on the

group and must make the group's interests part of his or her own

interests, but, on the other side of the equation, the group depends

on the individual and must make that individual's interests part of

the group's interests. Shun's welfare depends on his family and

therefore must make his family's interests part of his own (he

resolves to do what is necessary to preserve his relationship to his

parents), but his family's welfare depends on Shun, and therefore it

must recognize his interests to constitute part of its welfare (the

family must recognize that it is damaging itself in requiring Shun to

deny himself the most part important of human relationships).

The ways in which Confucianism values autonomy and the ways in which

it does not has implications for the increasingly discussed issue as

to whether contemporary Confucianism can recognize individual rights.

Given the way that individual and group interest are conceived as

mutually dependent and interwoven, Confucianism cannot recognize

rights that are based on the idea that rights defend the interests of

the individual against group interests (though something like

this conception of rights might be compatible with Confucianism in

case relationships irretrievably break down and individuals need to be

protected; see Chan, 1999). The way that Confucianism values living

according to one's understanding of the right and the good does

provide a basis for the idea that individuals should receive

protection when they express their convictions about these matters,

particularly when they are expressing convictions about the wrongful

or misconceived conduct of their political leaders (Wong, 2004).

Furthermore, Chinese thinkers from the 19th century onwards

have adapted the concept of rights received in interaction with the

West, and these adaptations often articulate the idea that the

individual ought to have a range of freedom of expression and action

so that they can contribute more richly and originally to the welfare

of Chinese society. Chinese thinkers such as Liang Qichao and Japanese

thinkers such as Kato affirmed both the legitimacy of the individual's

desires and the necessity to harmonize individual and group desires

(see Angle and Svensson, 2001; Angle, 2002). Emphasis on the former

would be the relatively new element in a contemporary Confucianism,

but 1B6 of the Mencius provides a striking anticipation of

this element. Here King Xuan tells Mencius that his ability to be a

true king for his people is thwarted by his desires for wealth and for

sex. Mencius replies that if the King accords the common people the

same privileges for wealth and sex, there would be no problem in

becoming a true king. Xunzi (see section 2.6) conceives of morality

as a way of harmonizing the desires of individuals so that destructive

conflict is replaced by productive harmony, and this gives the

satisfaction of desire a central role in his version of Confucian

ethics. Later on in the tradition, Dai Zhen defended the legitimacy

of self-interested desire as long as it is tempered by a proper

concern for others (see Tiwald, 2011a; and section 2.8). Rosemont

(1991, 2004) has argued that “second-generation”

“positive” rights to education and economic security are

better grounded in the Chinese tradition than they have been in the

West.

2.4 The centrality of filial piety in Confucian ethics and the doctrine of love with distinctions

Along with the emphasis on li, the centrality of filial

piety is one of the most distinctive characteristics of Confucian

ethics. The Analects 2.6 says to give parents no cause for

anxiety other than illness, whereas 2.7, as mentioned earlier,

emphasizes the need for the material support of parents to be carried

out in a respectful manner. 2.8 emphasizes that it is the expression

on one's face that is filial and not just taking on the burden of

work or letting elders partake of the wine and food before others.

Is obedience to parents always required of the filial child? What if

the child believes that parents are wrong and their wishes run

contrary to what is right or to ren? In those cases where one

thinks them wrong, what is one to do? The Analects 2.5

portrays Confucius as saying, “Do not disobey,” but when

queried further as to his meaning, he explains obedience in terms of

conformance to the rites for burying and sacrificing to deceased

parents. In 4.18 Confucius says that when one disagrees with one's

parents, one should remonstrate with them gently. Most translations

of what follows have Confucius concluding that if parents are not

persuaded, one should not oppose them (e.g., Lau, 1979; Slingerland,

2003; Waley, 1938), but it is possible to read the spare and

ambiguously worded passage as requiring instead that one not abandon

one's purpose in respectfully trying to change one's parents' minds

(Legge, 1971). In other Confucian texts, the question of whether

obedience is required has received different answers in the Confucian

tradition. Chapters 1 and 2 of the Record of Ritual (Legge,

1967, vol. 1) say that one must obey if one fails to persuade one's

parent. On the other hand, Xunzi declares that following the

requirements of morality rather than the wishes of one's father is

part of the highest standard of conduct (29.1 of the Xunzi;

for a translation see Knoblock, 1988–94) and moreover that if

following the course of action mandated by one's father would bring

disgrace to the family and not following it would bring honor, then

not following is to act morally (29.2 of the Xunzi). Xunzi's

position is supported in part by the distinction between service to

parents and obedience to them. It might very well fail to be of

service to parents if following their wishes is to bring moral

disgrace to them and the family.

Another ethical issue arising from the strong Confucian emphasis on

filial piety concerns possible conflicts between loyalty to parents

and loyalty to the ruler or public justice. Consider again

Analects 13.18, in which Confucius says that uprightness is

found in sons and fathers covering up for each other. In this case,

at least, loyalty to parents or to children takes precedence over

loyalty to ruler or to public justice. This precedence is one

implication of the Confucian doctrine of love with distinctions

(“love with distinctions” is the usual translation, but

perhaps “care with distinctions” is less misleading

because it covers both the emotionally freighted attitude toward kin

and a more distanced attitude toward strangers). Though all people

are owed moral concern, some are owed more than others, according to

the agent's relationship to them.

To introduce other kinds of problematic treated by Confucian

thinkers, it is necessary to identify a pivotal critic of

Confucianism in the classical period. Mozi (probably 5th

century B.C.E), who possibly was once a student of Confucianism, came

to reject that teaching, partly on the grounds that the Confucian

emphasis on ritual was a wasteful expenditure of resources that could

otherwise be used to meet the basic needs of the many (Mozi,

chapters 25, 32; see Watson, 1967 for a translation). A related

criticism in the text of the Mozi is that tradition does not

hold normative authority simply because it is tradition, for there

was a time when the practice in question was not tradition but new

(chapter 39). If a practice has no authority when it is new, it has

no authority at any subsequent time simply because it is getting

older. Mozi also rejected Confucianism on the grounds that partiality

toward one's own (oneself, one's family, one's state) is at the root

of all destructive conflict (chapter 16). Partiality toward the self

causes the strong to rob the weak. Partiality toward one's family

causes great families wreak havoc with lesser families (it is not

difficult to see how this thought might apply to the idea of

protecting one's own, even if they have committed serious crimes

against others outside the family). Partiality toward one's state

causes great states attack small states. Mozi advocated the doctrine

of universal love or impartial concern.

2.5 Mencius's defense of love with distinctions and his theory of the roots of moral knowledge and motivation in human nature

The substantial following that Mohism gained in the classical period

forced a response from Confucians (see Hansen, 1992, and Van Norden

2007, for a discussion of Mozi's pivotal impact on the Chinese

tradition). They responded on two subjects: first, they had to address

what is required by way of concern for all people and how to reconcile

such concern with the greater concern for some that the Confucian

doctrine of love with distinctions requires; second, they had to

address the question of what kinds of concern are motivationally

possible for human beings, partly in response to the Mohist argument

that it is not difficult to act on impartial concern, and partly in

response to others who were skeptical about the possibility of acting

on any kind of genuinely other-regarding concern. Mencius, in the text

purporting to be a record of his teachings, explicitly sets himself to

the task of defending Confucianism not only against Mohism but the

teachings of Yang Zhu. Yang's teachings seemed to Mencius to sit on

the opposite end of the spectrum from Mohism (there is no surviving

text purporting to articulate and defend Yangism). According to

Mencius's characterization, Yang Zhu criticized both Mohism and

Confucianism for asking people to sacrifice themselves for

others. Yang Zhu on this view was an ethical egoist: i.e., one who

holds that it is always right to promote one's own welfare. Mencius

positioned Confucianism as the occupying the correct mean between the

extremes of having concern only for oneself on the one hand and having

an equal degree of concern for everyone.

Mencius 1A7 purports to be an account of a conversation

between Mencius and King Xuan, the ruler of a Chinese state. Mencius

is attempting to persuade the king to adopt the Confucian

dao or way of ruling. The king wonders whether he really can

be the kind of king Mencius is advocating, and Mencius replies by

asking whether the following story he has heard about the king is

true. The story is that the king saw an ox being led to slaughter for

a ritual sacrifice. The king decided to spare the ox and substituted

a lamb for the ritual sacrifice. Thinking back on that occasion, the

king recalls that it was the look in the ox's eyes, like that of an

innocent man being led to execution, that led him to substitute the

lamb. Mencius then comments that this story demonstrates the king's

capability to become a true king, and that all he has to do is to

extend the sort of compassion he showed the ox to his own people. If

he can care for an ox, he can care for his subjects. To say that he

can care for an ox but not for his people is like saying “my

strength is sufficient to lift heavy weight, but not enough to lift a

feather” (translation adapted from Lau, 1970) His failure to

act on behalf of his people is due simply to his not acting, not to

an inability to act. What the king has to do, suggests Mencius, is to

treat the aged in his family as aged, and then extend it to the aged

in other families; treat his young ones as young ones, and extend it

to the young ones of others; then you can turn the whole world in the

palm of his hand.

The passage demonstrates one characteristic of the text that is

pertinent to Mencius's response to Mohism. In contrast to the

Analects, the ruler's duties to care for his people are more

frequently discussed and play a more prominent role in the conception

of a ruler's moral excellence. Mencius is portrayed in this text as

very much engaged in getting the kings of Chinese states to stop

mistreating their subjects, to stop drafting their subjects into

their wars of territorial expansion, and to avoid overtaxing them to

finance their wars and lavish projects. At the same time, Mencius's

assertion that the king is able to extend the kind of concern he

showed the ox toward his own people is a reply to those who advocate

Yangism on the grounds that acting for one's own sake is natural.

Mencius holds that natural compassion is a part of human nature. The

task of moral self-cultivation is the task of “extending”

what is natural. What is natural, or at least more so, is properly

acting toward the aged and the young in one's family and then

extending that to the aged and the young in other families.

Extension is necessary because natural compassion is uneven compared

to where it ought to extend. King Xuan may find it natural to have

compassion for an innocent man about to be executed or a terrified ox

about to be slaughtered, but not toward all his subjects when he is

focusing on the benefits that a war of territorial expansion might

bring him. This story of Mencius, the King, and the ox is rich

material for reflection on the nature of moral development. It seems

plausible that development must begin with something that is of the

right nature to be shaped into the moral virtues, and also plausible

that what we begin with is not as it fully should be. The questions

posed by the story is what the natural basis of morality is and how

further development occurs. Mencius's theory of the

“four duan” addresses these

questions. “Duan” literally means “tip of

something” and is often translated as “beginnings”

in this context.

What are the four beginnings of morality? In 2A6 human nature

(ren xing) it is said that no person is devoid of a heart

(the word for heart in Chinese stands for the seat of thinking and

feeling, hence often translated as “the mind”) sensitive

to the suffering of others, and to illustrate this beginning, Mencius

asks us to suppose that a man were suddenly to see a young child

about to fall into a well. Such a man would certainly be moved to

compassion, not because he wanted to get in the good graces of the

parents, nor because he wished to win the praise of his fellow

villagers or friends, nor yet because he disliked the cry of the

child. This natural compassion can develop into the virtue of

ren (in Mencius, ren is more often a particular

virtue that concerns caring and hence is often translated as

“benevolence”). A second beginning is the heart that feels

shame in certain situations, e.g., in 6A10, Mencius says that if rice

and soup are offered after being trampled upon, even a beggar would

disdain them. Under the right conditions, innate shame develops into

the virtue of

yi or righteousness—being able to do the right thing.

The third beginning is the heart that feels courtesy,e.g., the

younger sometimes instinctively knows to respect and be courteous to

the older. Under the right conditions, courtesy develops into

li, which as a virtue consists in the observance of the

rites or the virtue of ritual propriety. And finally, there is the

heart that has a sense of right and wrong (shi/fei, the

thing to do or not to do). Under the right conditions, this sense of

approval and disapproval develops into wisdom, which includes having

a grasp of the spirit behind moral rules so that one knows how to be

flexible in applying them.

It is important to note that Mencian beginnings of morality are not

just blind feelings or primitive urges to act in certain ways, but

contain within them certain intuitive judgments about what is right

and wrong, what is to be disdained and what is deferential, respectful

behavior. In the example of the beggar who does not accept food that

has been trampled upon, it seems that Mencius is suggesting we have an

original, unlearned sense that allows us to judge the sort of respect

that is due to ourselves as human beings. Similarly, in suggesting

that we have an unlearned sense of deference, Mencius is suggesting

that we have an unlearned sense of what is due to others such as

elders and our parents. Mencius's theory tallies with some of the more

recent theories of emotion that point toward the intertwining of

cognitive and affective dimensions (the theory does not necessarily

imply, however, that the affective amounts to nothing more than the

cognitive, as shall be discussed later).

The Mencius contains different metaphors that convey a view

of human nature as the basis for moral development. On one metaphor,

used in a debate with rival philosopher Gaozi in 6A2, the inborn

goodness of human nature is like the tendency of water to flow

downward. The metaphor implies that human beings develop virtues in

the absence of abnormal interference such as water being damned up or

struck so that it splashes upward. On the other way of conceiving

ethical development, the four beginnings are more like barley sprouts

that need nurture analogous to sun, water, and fertile soil (6A7).

That these two conceptions are significantly different can be seen

through the recognition that “growing” conditions for the sprouts are

not necessarily provided in the normal course of affairs.

In some passages, extension is characterized as a matter of simply

preserving or not losing what is given to one at birth (4B12, 4B19,

4B28, 6A10, 6A11), and such passages accord with the water metaphor in

suggesting that moral development happens in the absence of abnormal

interference. In other places, the thinking seems to be more in

accord with the sprout metaphor and identifies conditions for moral

development that go well beyond noninterference: kings are held

responsible for providing for their subjects a constant means of

livelihood (1A7) that enables them to support parents and nurture wife

and children; kings must also ensure the appropriate moral education

about filial piety, about the duties that rulers and subjects owe to

each other and about respect for the elder. Mencius furthermore

recognized natural predispositions other than the four beginnings that

could potentially lead human beings astray. He mentions the desires of

the senses in this regard (6A15). This is why Mencius places

responsibility on everyone to si (reflect on, turn over in

one's mind) (6A14, 6A15) the manifestations of the four

beginnings. With such reflection, human beings can recognize that

virtue takes precedence over satisfaction of potentially conflicting

desires and feelings (e.g., the priority of righteousness over the

desire for life if one cannot have both), but lack of reflection will

stunt moral development (6A9). If the deprivation of nourishing

conditions is severe enough, the sprouts can be killed off

(6A8). Thus, while Mencius is often characterized superficially by his

saying that human nature is good (6A6), he means (at least when his

thinking is guided by the sprout metaphor) that it contains

predispositions to feel and act in morally appropriate ways and to

make intuitive normative judgments that can with the right nurturing

conditions give human beings guidance as to the proper emphasis to be

given to the desires of the senses (see Shun, 1997; Van Norden, 2004,

2007).

It is not surprising that there should be the kind of ambiguity

expressed by the juxtaposition of the water and sprout metaphors in

Mencius. A very common contemporary conception of the innate comes

very close to the implications of the water metaphor, i.e., that which

develops under normal conditions. On the other hand, we are also

capable of recognizing that other things develop under a narrower or

much more contingent (not necessarily realized in the normal course of

affairs) set of conditions. A barley sprout develops only if human

beings plant it in the right kind of soil and put effort into

cultivating it. Yet it seems intuitively correct to say that its

direction of growth is innate. If the conditions for growth are

realized, it will become a barley plant, not a corn plant.

Contemporary thinking about the innate bases of morality also shows

this range of thinking. Claims that morality is constrained by an

innate universal grammar (e.g., Hauser, 2008; Mikhail, 2011) seem

closer to the idea that the moral (or its underlying universal

structure) develops under normal conditions; other conceptions

acknowledge more of a role for contingent factors (Nichols, 2004;

Haidt and Bjorklund 2008). The ambiguity in Mencius' thought, then,

anticipates contemporary swings in thinking about the relative roles

of what human beings are born with and what they acquire through

learning, experience and culture.

Much of what is fascinating in Mencius lies in his explorations of how

moral learning takes place and how this learning might also interact

with emotion. Consider now in combination the theme that the

cognitive and affective go into the constitution of emotion and the

theme that the emotional beginnings of morality can be extended

through provision of the right kind of nurture. What is necessary for

extension? Is cognitive extension, i.e., more moral knowledge,

sufficient? The answer to this question depends on the nature of the

intertwining between the cognitive and affective in emotions. Consider

again the story of King Xuan and the ox. Mencius expresses confidence

in King Xuan's ability to have compassion for his people, based on his

act of compassion for the ox. Here the question of whether cognitive

extension is sufficient emerges in the concrete. Was it sufficient for

Mencius to have reminded the king that he has even more of a reason to

spare his people from suffering than he had to spare the ox from

suffering (more reason because Mencius clearly ranks the interests of

animals below those of human beings, and because for him there is a

good moral reason for the performance of ritual sacrifices)? Logical

consistency alone cannot be expected to provide motivation, as David

Nivison has pointed out (1996), but then what is Mencius trying to do

with the King if not move him through logic?

Nowhere in the Mencius is there enough said to point to a

definitive interpretation on this matter, but various reconstructions

of possible positions can be given. Perhaps the King's innate nature

contains all the motivation he needs, and all that Mencius is doing is

reminding him that he has the motivation to spare his people. This

interpretation seems roughly in accord with Mencius' likening moral

development to water flowing downward: it will proceed unless

interfered with. Perhaps the King's nature needs some degree of

transformation that starts with the sort of compassion he can feel for

a terrified ox or an innocent man about to be executed and then

expands the scope of that compassion to more of its appropriate

objects. This interpretation seems roughly in accord with Mencius'

likening moral development to the growth of sprouts that need the

appropriate water, soil and cultivation efforts. (See Im, 1999,

Ivanhoe, 2002, Shun, 1997, Wong, 2002, Van Norden, 2007, and McRae

2011 for a range of different possible positions that could be

attributed to Mencius).

What seems philosophically fruitful about the Xuan and ox story is

that it portrays an attempt at moral teaching of the kind that

actually occurs in the moral life, and the ambiguity that it presents

to the reader is fruitful precisely because it is not a completely

theorized story. We are not told exactly what Mencius is trying to do

with the King in terms of a theory of the nature of emotions and the

relation between the cognitive and affective. Rather, we are led to

reflect on the most plausible possibilities in trying to arrive at a

reconstruction of what might have been meant by the text, as well as

what might be the most illuminating position on its own merits. The

story is particularly intriguing for those philosophers who believe in

the possibility that learning can influence emotion.

What about the priority of filial loyalty over loyalty to the larger

community? How does Mencius's theory of human nature address this

point of contention between the Mohists and the Confucians? Mencius's

response to the Mohists draws from his theory of human nature as

containing not only the beginnings of affective motivations for being

moral but also intuitive judgments about what is right and about what

deserves the feeling of shame. His question to a Mohist, Yizi, is how

Yizi can justify providing his deceased parents a special burial when

the Mohist prescriptions are for a plain burial for anyone. Yizi's

reply is to quote from the Book of History: the sage-kings

treated all their subjects as if they were their new-born children.

Yizi's interpretation of this saying is that there should be no

distinctions in one's concern for people, though the practice of it

may begin with one's parents (this may be an expression of the

distinction between having equal concern and accepting practice that

allow unequal treatment as long as the total system of practices can

be justified on the basis of equal concern for all). Mencius's

counter-reply is to ask whether Yizi really holds that a person loves

his elder brother's son no more than his neighbor's baby. This is not

just an assertion about what people tend to feel but also an assertion

about what people intuitively hold to be right to feel and to do. Then

Mencius makes a puzzling remark to the effect that Yizi is singling

out a special feature in a certain case: “when a new-born babe

creeps toward a well, it is not its fault.” This last part of

Mencius's response is puzzling because Yizi did not say anything about

a baby and a well. One possibility is that Yizi may have obliquely

referred to Mencius's claim that all have the original and unlearned

feeling of distress at seeing a child about to fall into a well. In

other words, Yizi might have been challenging Mencius by asking,

“Does not your own postulated unlearned compassion require us to

treat that child the same way, regardless of whose child it is?”

This way of taking Yizi helps makes sense of Mencius's reply. First,

he points out what he takes to be the indisputably greater affection

one feels for elder brother's son over one's neighbor's baby. Mencius

grants that we all respond to a child about to fall into the well with

alarm and distress, and it doesn't matter whose child it is. However,

one cannot infer from this one special situation that we ought to have

equal concern for everyone in all situations. The case of the

child about to fall into the well has a special feature that makes it

relevant to treat it as one would any child. That special feature

seems to be innocence.

The Mencian position is premised on the principle that it is right to

treat all people alike only when the ways they are alike are the most

ethically relevant features of the situation. We should do the same

thing only when the similarities between two cases are the most

ethically relevant features of the situation. Mencius believes that

in many instances, the presence or absence of a family relationship

to a person is the most relevant feature (in deciding which children

to give gifts, the fact that one child is one's elder brother's son

and the other child is one's neighbor's child may be the most

relevant feature). In other types of situations, such as a child

about to fall into a well, it is the innocence that children share

that is the most relevant feature. That is why it is proper to feel

alarm or distress toward any child in that situation. The implied

application of this idea to the sage-kings' treatment of the people

is that these kings treated all people alike insofar as they did not

deserve the harm about to befall them.

Two issues arise from this response to Mohism. One issue is whether

Mencius has sufficient warrant to trust the kinds of intuitive

judgments he attributes to human nature. Mencius holds that the

beginnings of morality are sent by Heaven, but in the absence of such

a metaphysical warrant, can these intuitive judgments be accepted,

particularly the ones that underwrite love with distinctions? Doubt

about the metaphysical warrant may not doom Mencius's response to

Mohism, however, if one holds that all normative theories ultimately

depend on intuitive judgments and if one has no good reason to be

skeptical about these judgments. Thus one might hold that whether or

not there is a metaphysical warrant, there is a great deal of

plausibility to the intuitive judgment about owing parents more

concern because they are the source of one's life and nurturance. Of

course one might also hold, as Mencius appears to hold, that people

are owed concern in virtue of their being human, and the possibility

for conflict of duties arises from these different sources of

concern. The second issue is how the Mencius text deals with

conflicts of the sort exemplified by the sheep-stealing case in the

Analects.

The text contains themes embodying the theme of filial loyalty, and

as in the Analects, such loyalty takes precedence over

public justice. 7A35 tells a story about the sage-emperor Shun that

illustrates this theme. Because Shun was renowned for his filial

piety, Mencius is asked what Shun would have done if his father

killed a man. Mencius replies that Shun could not stop the judge from

apprehending his father because the judge had the legal authority to

act. But then, Mencius says, Shun would have abdicated and fled with

his father to the edge of the sea. 5A2 and 5A3 describe the way that

Shun dealt with his half-brother Xiang's conspiring with his father

and stepmother to kill him. He enfeoffed Xiang because all he could

do as a brother is to love him. At the same time, Shun appointed

officials to administer the fief and to collect taxes and tributes,

to protect the people of Youbi from Xiang's potentially abusive

ruling. That is why some called Shun's act a banishment of Xiang.

However, the Shun stories exhibit a complexity that differentiates

them from the story of the sheep-stealing coverup in the

Analects. Though filial loyalty is clearly given a priority

in each story, there is in Shun's actions an acknowledgment of the

other value that comes into conflict with filial loyalty. Though Shun

ultimately gives priority to filial loyalty in the case of his

father, his first action acknowledges the value of public justice by

declining to interfere with the judge while he is king. While Shun

declines to punish his half-brother, he protects the people of

Xiang's new fiefdom.

These Shun stories illustrate that an agent's response to a situation

in which important values come into conflict need not be a strict

choice between honoring one value and wholly denying the other. While

some sort of priority might have to be set in the end, there are also

ways to acknowledge the value that is subordinated, but how exactly

that is to be done seems very much a matter of judgment in the

particular situation at hand. The Shun stories are an expression of

the Confucian theme that rightness cannot be judged on the basis of

exceptionless general principles but a matter of judgment in the

particular situation. It is difficult to see how this theme can be

taught except by the way it is done in the Mencius: through

exemplars of how it is done, and where the situation is presented

through some kind of narrative.

The characteristic form of reasoning in Mencius is analogical

reasoning. Starting from what seems true in one case and

“extending” similar conclusions to another case that has

similar conclusions. The trick in doing analogical reasoning

correctly, as suggested earlier, is to extend the similar conclusions

only when the two cases share ethically relevant and decisive

features. The Mencius 4A17 shows a similar concern for

treating like cases alike. Mencius grants that to save the life of

one's drowning sister-in-law, one of course suspends the customary

rule of propriety prohibiting the touching of man and woman when they

are giving and receiving. Another philosopher proposes to apply this

idea of suspending the usual rules of propriety to save something

else from drowning—the entire Empire! Mencius replies that one

saves one's sister-in-law with one's hand but cannot save the Empire

from drowning in chaos and corruption with one's hand. The Empire can

only be pulled out by the Way. Mencius is rejecting the analogy

between compromising on ritual propriety to save the country and

compromising on propriety to save one's sister-in-law. There is a

relevant dissimilarity between the case of the drowning sister-in-law

and saving the country: one cannot save the Empire through

compromises of ritual propriety, but instead by following the Way,

which itself involves following ritual propriety.

So what do we do when we confront a problematic case in the present

and we do not automatically know what the right thing to do is?

Mencius believes we can rely on past cases in which we have made

reliable judgments about, for example, what is right and shameful.

These reliable judgments made in past cases serve as paradigms or

exemplars of correct ethical judgment. In encountering new

problem situations, we determine what sort of ethical reaction to the

new situation is correct by asking which of the cases in which we've

had paradigm judgments are relevantly similar. We then determine what

reactions to the new situations would be sufficiently similar to the

relevant paradigm judgments. Analogical reasoning is careful

attention and comparing to a concrete paradigm. The pool of

paradigm ethical judgments we have not only includes cases from our

own personal experience, but also include the experience of others,

especially those who serve as models of wise judgment. The stories of

sage-king Shun in the Mencius text seem to give us such

paradigms. Shun's judgments on what to do about conflicts between

filial loyalty and public justice are perhaps meant to serve as

paradigm judgments. The conception of moral reasoning found in the

Mencius offers important material for reflection on the

process of moral judgment, especially for those who have come to

reject the simple model of judgment as deduction from premises

including a general moral principle and a description of the

conditions that make the principle applicable to the situation at

hand. The Mencian picture includes general moral considerations or

values that bear on the situation at hand, such as the importance of

family loyalty and public justice, but the picture also suggests that

judgment in difficult situations includes finding a way to adequate

recognize and realize the values in play. “Finding a way”

seems much more a matter of imagination and ingenuity rather than

deduction, but the Mencian picture also suggests that we can be

guided by exemplars of wise judgment. Identifying the relevant

similarities and dissimilarities between these exemplars and one's

present situation seems a matter of perception and close attention

rather than deduction from principle.

2.6 Xunzi versus Mencius on human nature and the origins of morality

In the Xing E (“[Human] Nature is Bad”) chapter, Xunzi

explicitly opposes his position on human nature to Mencius's. He

asserts that far from being good, human nature is bad because it

includes a love of profit, envy and hatred, and desires of the eyes

and ears that lead to violence and anarchy. To avoid these

consequences of indulging our spontaneous desires and impulses, it

takes wei (conscious activity or deliberate effort), models

and teaching, and guidance through observing ritual and yi

(standards of righteousness). Through such efforts, natural emotions

and desires are transformed as a crooked piece of wood is steamed and

then straightened upon a press frame. All rituals and standards of

righteousness are sheng (generated, produced) by the sages.

These are generated from the conscious activity of the sages and not

from their original nature. Just as the vessel made by a potter is

generated from his conscious activity and not his original nature, so

the sages accumulated their thoughts and ideas and made a practice of

conscious activity and precedents, thereby generating rituals and

standards of righteousness.

Part of Xunzi's argument against Mencius is that human nature is not

what is produced by conscious activity but rather that which is

already there in human beings independently of conscious activity.

Since it is clear that human beings are not already good but must work

at it, it is clear that human nature cannot be good. When Mencius is

attributed the water-metaphor view of the human inclination toward

goodness, Xunzi's criticism has a point. Becoming good does not seem

to be merely a matter of not interfering with what will unfold in

normal circumstances. However, when Mencius is attributed the

sprout-metaphor view, the differences between him and Xunzi are more

subtle. On the sprout-metaphor view, effort and reflection must be

put into the project of extending the sprouts to where they should be.

It might be thought that one of the real differences between Mencius

and Xunzi is that the former believes the necessary effort lies in

growing or extending what lies in human nature, whereas the latter

beieves that the effort lies in remaking and reshaping what lies in

human nature. Perhaps one believes that we can go “with the grain” of

what we are born with, and the other believes we must go “against the

grain.”

Each thinker emphasizes one of these opposing directions,

but it is a credit to the subtlety and power of their views that each

also takes into account the direction that the other

emphasizes. Mencius acknowledges that moral development is hindered

when a person pays more attention to the “small” parts of the self

that include desires for sensual and material satisfaction and fails

to use the heart-mind to reflect on the great parts that have

normative priority. In the chapter on rituals, Xunzi identifies

natural and powerful emotional dispositions such as love of one's own

kind that rituals must give expression to and that seem to form more

of a positive basis for moral development. Such natural love is

expressed in love for parents and intense grief upon their deaths,

which must be given appropriate expression in mourning and burial

rituals. Thus Mencius acknowledges that there are natural parts of

the self that must be disciplined and held in check while Xunzi

acknowledges that there are natural parts that are largely congenial

to morality in the sense that they are the natural basis for taking

great satisfaction and contentment in virtue once one has gotten the

self-aggrandizing desires and emotions under control.

Another disagreement between Mencius and Xunzi has to do with Mencius'

claim that human nature contains moral predispositions. As indicated

earlier, such Mencian predispositions appear to contain moral

intuitions (e.g., about what is shameful and right or wrong). On one

plausible interpretation of Mencius, morality is part of the order

imparted to the world by tian or heaven. By contrast, Xunzi

seems to rule out the existence of natural predispositions with moral

content when he claims that the sage kings generated ritual principles

and precepts of moral duty. One natural interpretation of “generated”

is “created” or “invented.” On these interpretations of each thinker,

the contrast between Mencius and Xunzi exemplifies the contrast

between a robust moral realism that has moral properties such as

rightness existing independently of human invention and a

constructivist position that makes moral properties dependent on human

invention.

The interpretation of Xunzi as a constructivist does not

necessarily commit him to a denial of the objectivity of morality or

to the denial that there is a single objectively correct morality. It

is possible to see Xunzi as a constructivist about morality but also

as an objectivist (see Nivison, 1991). On the constructivist

interpretation, Xunzi holds a functional conception of morality,

according to which it is invented to harmonize the interests of

individuals and to constrain and transform the heedless pursuit of

short-term gratification for the sake of promoting the long-term

interests of the individual and the group. Ritual principles and moral

precepts are invented to accomplish such a function, and human nature

constrains which of the possible principles and precepts are better or

worse for accomplishing that function. Xunzi's point about the

mourning rituals prescribed by Confucians being suited to the nature

of human love for one's parents is a case in point.

Xunzi's functional theory of morality bears added interest for those

exploring the possibilities of a naturalistic approach to morality.

One fairly common interpretation of Xunzi's conception

of tian or heaven is that it is an order-giving force in the

cosmos that is neutral to whatever human beings have come to regard as

right and good. In fact, a translation that better conveys such a

meaning for ‘tian’ is “nature,” which

is the translation given by Knoblock's valued translation of

the Xunzi. Textual passages that support this interpretation

stress that tian operates according to patterns that remain

constant no matter what human beings do or whether they appeal to it

for good fortune (chapter 17). It is the proper task of human beings

to understand what these patterns are in order to take advantage of

them (e.g., so that they may know to plow in the spring, weed in the

summer, harvest in the fall, and store in the winter).

Such a view of the difference between Xunzi and Mencius, however,

depends on interpretations that been disputed in favor of alternative

interpretations. Roger Ames (1991, 2002) defends an interpretation of

Mencius that gives the greatest role in shaping the direction of moral

development to human “creative social intelligence” rather

than tian conceived as a force operating independently of

human beings. For a contrasting view, see Irene Bloom (1994, 1997,

2002), who, sometimes in response to Ames, defends a greater role for

biology in her interpretation of Mencius while also leaving an

important role for culture. The Xunzi text is also

susceptible to very different interpretations, partly because of the

originality of its synthesis of several streams of thought:

Confucianism, Daoism, Mohism, and the Jixia Academy. When Xunzi

asserts that tian is unresponsive to human supplication and

ritual sacrifice, it looks as if he might be drawing from Daoism (see

below), but when he refers to the tian-given faculties human

beings should exercise to solve the problem of conflict, he might be

interpreted as implying that tian conferred these faculties

upon human beings for the purpose of solving the problem of

conflict and realizing fulfilling human lives together (see Eno 1990;

and Machle, 1993 for an exploration of the rich interpretive

possibilities regarding Xunzi's conception of tian). While

it might still be possible to interpret Xunzi as a constructivist on

the origin of morality, this alternative interpretation might suggest

that Xunzi's tian had a blueprint it intended human beings to

fulfill. Under alternative interpretations of Mencius and Xunzi,

then, the differences do not disappear, but they might form even more

subtle contrasts.

Even some of the theoretical difficulties that Xunzi has are

instructive. In pressing his case against Mencius for the badness of

human nature, he stresses the self-serving drives of human nature.

Unlike Hobbes, he does not accept that human beings are inevitably

motivated by self-interest, and he does not try to base adherence to

moral norms on the basis of self-interest alone. This arguably is a

promising move, given the heavy criticism that can be directed

against the Hobbesian project and subsequent attempts to carry it out

its basic idea (see Gauthier, 1986 for such an attempt; see

Vallentyne, 1991 for criticism). Xunzi rather argues that the

problems created by unrestrained self-interest point to the need to

transform human motivation. People can come to love moral virtue and

the rites for their own sakes, and this is necessary, on Xunzi's

view, for a stable solution to the problem of conflict between

self-interested individuals. At times, Xunzi suggests that the

intellect can override the desires arising from the natural emotions,

but it remains unclear as to how self-regarding motivations can

become a love of virtue and the rites simply because the intellect

approves of them. The parts of Xunzi asserting a more complex picture

of human motivation suggest a solution. If human beings are capable

of genuine compassion and concern for others, as the chapter on rites

suggests, then the ritual principles and moral precepts invented by

the sage kings have some motivational leverage for the birth of a

love of virtue and rites. Such a solution draws from what

are arguably some of the most plausible positions of Mencius: that

human beings are capable of altruism and compassion even if they are

motivated much of the time by self-interest; and that moral

transformation is a matter of cultivating and extending a

motivational substance that is congenial to morality.

Mencius and Xunzi, then, offer sophisticated theories that expand the

range of possible ways of understanding moral knowledge, motivation,

and the nature of morality itself. Mencius presents an interesting

conception of the way that we reason by analogy from intuitive

judgments and also a plausible conception of innate predispositions

that are compatible with a major role for learning and upbringing in

the development of character and virtue. Those who are more

naturalistically inclined in their approach to morality (at least

insofar as this involves resisting the idea of a transcendent source

of moral properties) may find Xunzi's functional conception of

morality appealing, especially if it allows for a degree of

objectivity regarding the content of morality.

2.7 Confucianism and the situationist problem for virtue ethics

In recent years, Gilbert Harman (1998–99, 1999–2000) and John Doris

(2002) have pointed to the influence of situations over attitude and

behavior as a problem for virtue ethics. Citing empirical work in

social psychology, Harman and Doris claim that the extensive and

surprising influence of situational factors undermines the commonsense

idea that people possess stable character traits that explain what

they do. Some of the classic psychological studies used in this

argument appear to show that ordinary respectable American citizens

will administer dangerous electrical shocks to an innocent person when

urged to do so by an experimenter in a lab coat (Milgram 1974), and

that being late for an appointment is the most influential factor in

whether a seminary student will stop and help someone who seems to be

falling ill, even if the appointment is to attend a lecture on the

Good Samaritan (Darley and Batson 1973). Such studies pose a problem

not only for the commonsense conception of character traits, but also

for virtue ethics, which appear to assume the possibility of

achieving stable character traits that are virtues. Perhaps human

beings are inevitably creatures who are influenced by the situation in

which they act and not by any characterlogical dispositions they bring

with them to the situation. If so, it appears that the ideal of

attaining virtues is misguided.

There are good reasons to expect Confucianism to offer some

distinctive resources for dealing with this problem. First, as

pointed out in 2.3, Confucians appreciate the relational nature of

human life: who we are as persons very much includes our social

context: the people with whom we are in relationship and our

institutions and practices. So they are very much in a position to

appreciate situational influences on how human beings think, feel, and

act. Second, they appear to hold something like a conception of

virtues as stable character traits that are resistant to undue

situational influences. As noted in 2.3, and this pertains to the

challenge posed by the Milgram study, the Confucians emphasize the

importance of living according to one's own understanding of what is

right and good even if others do not see it the same way. Third, as

noted at the beginning of this entry, Chinese philosophy in general is

distinguished by a focus on the practical. This is illustrated in the

Confucian case by the tradition of scholar-officials who not only

wrote about and taught the importance of the ethical to the political

life, but strove to enact this importance in their own careers. As a

consequence, they were very much concerned with specifying in

practical terms how one could go about cultivating the virtues in

oneself. Fourth, and this is very much in response to the combination

of the previous points, they describe a long and arduous program of

ethical training to inculcate the virtues.

As Edward Slingerland (2011) has put it, Confucianism is in a good

position to appreciate the “high bar” challenge of situational

influence to the project of cultivating the virtues in oneself and

others. In response to this challenge, their program of ethical

training includes study of the classics (after the ancient period, the

classics came to include, of course, the Analects and

the Mencius), memorized and rehearsed until they become fully

internalized and embedded in the unconscious patterns of thought that

are so powerful in shaping what we do in everyday life (see

Slingerland 2009). This is one characteristic pattern of Confucian

self-cultivation: one consciously, deliberately and assiduously

undertakes a program that inculcates dispositions to have ethically

appropriate emotional responses and patterns of conduct. The intent

is to make the dispositions for these responses reliable and resistant

to undue situational influence.

Furthermore, the Confucians very much appreciated the power of models

to inspire, to make one want to transcend one's present self. The

psychologist Jonathan Haidt (2003) has given empirical evidence for an

emotion he calls “elevation,” which is something like awe and

admiration upon contemplating the morally admirable.

The Analects, in fact, has been read as a record of how a group

of men gathered around a teacher with the power to elevate, and as a

record of how this group created a culture in which goals of

self-transformation were treated as collaborative projects. These

people not only discussed the nature of self-cultivation but enacted

it as a relational process in which they supported one another,

reinforced their common goals, and served as checks on each other in

case they went off the path, the dao. They were each other's

situational influences. See Sarkissian, 2010 for the argument that

Confucius shows how one can turn the power of situations on people's

attitudes and behavior toward positive ends; if situations can

influence people, one can through small details of comportment and

attitude be a situational influence on others that tilts

things toward a better course.

Training in ritual, li, takes on another dimension of

importance in light of the situationist problem. As noted in section

2.2 Confucian rituals help to express attitudes of respect and

reverence for others that can exist independently of the rituals

themselves, but rituals provide conventionally established, symbolic

ways to express these attitudes toward others. Ritual forms,

therefore, give participants manifold and (just as importantly)

regularly recurring ways to act on and therefore to strengthen the

right attitudes and behavioral dispositions. Given the renewed

appreciation in contemporary psychology for the power of emotions to

influence attitude and behavior, the resource offered by ritual

training should not be ignored by anyone concerned about the problem

of how to resist undue situational influence.

Finally, Confucianism points to the possibility that individuals,

under the right circumstances and encouragement, can enhance their

reflective control of their own emotions and impulses. Mencius'

conversation with King Xuan can be conceived as an attempt to get the

king to nourish his moral sprouts by reflecting on them, to become

aware of what his moral emotions are (such as compassion) and to take

action to grow them. It should be noted that contemporary psychology

is exploring some possible venues for the regulation of one's

emotions and impulses. See Walter Mischel's by-now classic study

(1989) of children who are able to defer gratification for greater

reward in the future (here's one marshmallow; if you can wait fifteen

minutes before you eat it you can have another one). It turns out the

effective delayers use strategies of diverting their attentional focus

from the marshmallow sitting in front of them. Projects are underway

to teach children these strategies. See Lieberman (2011) and Creswell

(2007) for studies indicating that meditation focused on cultivating

compassion in oneself can be effective through enhancing one's ability

to identify and gain better control of one's emotions.

Finally, in considering why robust character traits that could

qualify as virtues are so rare, we should consider the perspective

that very much informs the self-cultivation projects of Confucius and

his students. They were very much aware of the lack of virtue as a

social and political condition and not merely as an individual

condition that just happened to be widespread (Hutton 2006 makes this

point). There is a reason why Confucius and Mencius after him sought

to have kings adopt their teachings. If in fact the achievement of

robust virtues requires long and hard training, supported and guided

by others who have taken similar paths before, and if as Mencius 1A7

holds, people cannot engage in such training until they have the

material security that enables them to take their minds off the sheer

task of survival, then it is no mystery at all why there are no such

traits in societies structured to achieve very different

goals. Ironically, the situationist psychological experiments do not

take into account this underlying relational factor that might deeply

influence the ability of people to form robust virtues, and neither do

the philosophical critics of virtue ethics who rely on the

situationist experimental evidence.

2.8 Neo-Confucian theories of morality and their grounding in a cosmology

Zhu Xi (1130–1200) reinterpreted ethical themes inherited from

the classical thinkers and grounded them in a cosmology and

metaphysics that had absorbed the influence of Buddhism, particularly

as it transformed in its interaction with Daoism when entering China

(see the chapters on Zhu Xi and Wang Yang Ming in Ivanhoe, 1993 for

the neo-Confucian reaction Buddhism and Daoism). Zhu established the

Confucian canon that served as a basis for the Chinese civil service

examination, including the Analects and Mencius,

along with the Great Learning (Da Xue) and

Doctrine of the Mean (Zhong Yong). In fact, he had

his greatest influence through the commentaries he wrote on these

texts (see Gardner, 2003 for a discussion of the influence of Zhu Xi's

reading of the Analects). Zhu affirmed the Mencian theme that

human nature is good, with greater emphasis on that vein of thought in

the Mencius that stresses that goodness is internal to human

beings and will develop in the absence of interference. This reading

of Mencius is unsurprising given the influence of Buddhism on the

Neo-Confucians, and it meant the demotion of Xunzi within the

influential Neo-Confucian reading of the tradition. Much of Zhu's

metaphysics centers on the relation between li (in this case

not ritual but principle or pattern or the fit and coherence between

things) and qi (the material force or energy stuff from which

objects emerge and return at the end of their existence). How Zhu Xi

conceived this relation is a matter of interpretive debate. Some view

him as holding a dualistic metaphysics in analogy to the way that

Plato's distinction between the Forms and the sensible world is often

taken to embody a metaphysical dualism (Fung, 1948, chapter

25). However, others interpret Zhu's li not as ontologically

prior to qi but rather as being a pattern or deep structure

that is immanent within and expressed by qi and delineates

the range and possibilities of qi's transformations (Graham,

1986; Thompson, 1988). Others have noted that li appears to

have both subjective and objective aspects: it lays down the lines

along which everything moves in a way that is independent of personal

desires; but on the other hand, it is related to the pattern of one's

profoundest responses to things (see Angle, 2009, for an attempt to

reconcile these aspects). With regard to qi, Zhu Xi held

that even though goodness is within human nature, individuals differed

with respect to their native endowment of energy stuff, and that this,

togther with differences in their family and social circumstances,

affected the development of their good natures.

Zhu Xi saw one's self-cultivation as a matter of apprehending the

li of one's own mind, largely through meditation practice,

and, at the same time, investigating the li or patterns of

things not only as revealed in texts such as the Analects

but as embodied in concrete situations, including the patterns in

relationships between persons. Both kinds of activities must be

conducted with jing, which in Zhu's thought means respectful

attention. Zhu is sometimes characterized as a kind of scholastic,

but he emphasized study of the texts in conjunction with acting, with

observing li in external situations and relationships, and

realizing the correspondence between the li of one's own

mind and the li of texts and of situations and

relationships. Apprehending li in a concrete situation in

order to respond appropriately to it was not a simple matter of

absorbing generalizations from texts and applying it to the

situation, but rather a matter of bringing to bear a mind that has

been cultivated by meditation and by study of the texts and by

observing and acting in previous situations. Such a mind can take

into account relevant ethical considerations and is disciplined in

attending to the situation (see the chapter on Zhu Xi in Ivanhoe,

1993; and Gardner, 1990).

The other Neo-Confucian whose influence rivals that of Zhu Xi is Wang

Yang Ming (1472–1529). Wang saw Zhu's emphasis on the

investigation of patterns in external things as overly scholastic and

leading to abstract speculation rather than practical guidance. He

rejected what he saw to be the intellectualization of personal

realization, and identified the mind with li (xin ji

li or mind is pattern or principle). This means that the

dispositions to judge properly the appropriate action in various

situations constitute the mind's original pure state. Li is

not to be sought as a pattern residing in an independently existing

external world but embodied in judgments of the mind (this seems to

commit Wang to an identification of the world with the experienced

world and to a denial of a mind-independent world). Wang's version of

the Mencian theme that human nature is good is therefore even more

innatist than Zhu Xi's (see Ivanhoe, 1990, for a

comparison of Mencius and Wang Yang Ming). Original goodness does not

need completion through learning about the external world. Then why

aren't all people fully good? Why are some very bad? Wang's answer is

that selfish desires cloud the sun of the complete and perfect moral

mind, and that the task of human beings is to eliminate selfish

desires and recover that mind (Chan, 1963, sections 21, 62).

One of Wang's better-known themes is the unity of knowledge and

action. There can be no gap between knowing what to do and doing it.

Genuine knowledge is necessarily practical. Selfish desires and

emotions get in the way of achieving genuine knowledge. One way of

understanding this identification is to take knowledge as a knowing

how to act that is expressed in acting. One expresses one's knowing

how to ride a bicycle by riding, not by articulating propositions

about how to ride a bicycle that one might not be able to act upon.

Furthermore, knowledge is particularist and context-sensitive in

nature and is expressed in intuitive reactions to the present moment.

Knowing how to ride a bicycle is continually reacting by shifting

one's body first this way and then that way to the changing center of

gravity of one's body in tandem with the bicycle. The moral life, on

Wang's view, is like that rather than applying a static set of

generalizations one learns before encountering the situations in

which one needs to act. Notice also that the kinesthetic sensations

blend seamlessly with the bodily responses to those sensations that

help one to go forward and keep one's balance on a bicycle. In

genuine moral knowledge, perception of the situation at hand blends

seamlessly with the right response to it.

In emphasizing that the ultimate ideal is a kind of spontaneous and

intuitive perceiving of the situation and the right response to it,

Wang Yang Ming joins with Zhu Xi. However, this does not mean that

there were not important dissenting voices. Dai Zhen defended an

ethical ideal in which deliberative reflection on the right thing to

do continues to play an important role and not just at stages in which

one is a considerable distance from realizing the ideal. Dai

particularly emphasizes the necessity for imagining the effects of

one's actions on others, which might help one better share their

sorrows and joys. Whereas Zhu equated spontaneous and non-conscious

identification with others as a reflection of the wholeheartedness of

one's motivations, Dai counters that needing to deliberate over the

right thing to do is compatible with a wholehearted acting on one's

judgment when one arrives at it. Dai is inclined to give desires for

the self a legitimate place in ethical reflection because he holds

that one's valuing of relationships can be strengthened when one

understands that the other's flourishing is tied up with one's own

(see Tiwald 2010, 2011a, 2011b).

3. Mohist Ethics

Mozi, as indicated earlier, advocated the doctrine of impartial

concern. The Mozi text does not make clear what this

doctrine amounts to in practice. Mozi criticizes partial-minded

people who do nothing positive for others if these others are not

related to them in the right way. Does this mean that to have

impartial concern is to have equal concern for others no matter what

one's relationship to them? Mozi's opposition to Confucianism might

be taken to imply a positive answer to this question. However, some

of Mozi's argumentation also presupposes that it is one's duty to see

that the needs of one's family are provided for. He discusses filial

piety as a virtue. This might suggest that one has special

responsibility for one's family and parents.

One way to reconcile these comments is to distinguish the requirement

that one have equal concern from the requirement that one treat

others equally. We might reasonably attribute the former to Mozi but

not the latter, so as to leave open the permissibility of individual

agents treating people unequally (this seems to have been the

position adopted by later Mohists in the so-called Mohist

Canons; see Fraser, 2007). This might be permissible if agents

are acting within a system of practices that can be justified as a

whole on the basis of equal concern for all people. For example,

suppose we have a system in which families have the resources to

satisfy the needs of their own members, or, if families or

individuals lack such resources on their own, they are given aid from

some common pool of resources. Chapter 19 makes explicit reference to

the need to provide for those without family to care for them. This

arrangement might seem morally acceptable from the standpoint of

equal concern for each person and at the same time allow for

individual agents to make extra efforts on behalf of their own family

members. Thus construed, Mozi's ethics is a kind of consequentialism

that measures rightness in terms of consequences, where each person's

welfare is to be considered equally, and where what is judged to be

right might be a practice as well as particular actions.

Because Confucian care with distinctions requires the extension of

care to non-kin, and because a reasonable interpretation or

reconstruction of Mozi's impartial concern would allow special

treatment of one's kin, there is not as dramatic a difference as one

might first think between Confucian and Mohist ethics on the

practical level. However, there might indeed be significant

differences when loyalty to kin and commitment to public justice come

into conflict, and certainly differences on the value of ritual

performance (though many Confucians might be unhappy with the Mohist

portrayal of their tradition as insisting on extravagantly expensive

ritual with musical accompaniment). One source of that difference

lies in the plurality of sources of duty in Confucianism, in contrast

to monistic Mohist consequentialism, where value comes down to the

promotion of benefit and avoidance of harm, where benefit and harm

are specified in fairly narrow ways. By contrast, consider the kind

of reasons given in the Analects for filial actions. One

reason is the duty to reciprocate great benefits. This reason emerges

in Analects 8.3, in which Zengzi is portrayed as near death.

He bids his students to look at his hands and feet, and quotes lines

from the Book of Odes to convey the idea that all his life he has

been keeping his body intact as part of his duty to his parents. In

17.21, Confucius defends the traditional three-year mourning period

for the death of parents, implying that a period shorter than three

years is inappropriate given that a child is completely dependent on

his parents for three years. For the Confucians, special

relationships create special duties that necessarily differ in their

source from duties to strangers outside the family and outside one's

state.

The Mozi is quite explicit in its consequentialism. Chapter

35 names three fa or standards for judging the viability of

beliefs and theories. One standard is of usefulness. In applying this

standard, one assesses the viability of a belief or theory according

to the beneficial or harmful consequences of acting on it. Another

standard is that of consulting the origin, which is the historical

record on the actions of the sage-kings. One determines whether the

belief or theory being judged accords with those actions. The third

standard is looking at evidence provided by the eyes and ears of the

people. This seems to refer to observations that garner some degree

of intersubjective consensus. Each standard is presented as if its

validity might be independent from the others, but there are

indications that the standard of usefulness is the most basic one.

For one thing, consulting the record of the sage-kings' actions

hardly seems to be a good idea in Mohist terms given the Mohist

objection to valuing tradition for its own sake, unless

these actions are good guides because they produced good results, a

historical judgment that was commonly accepted by otherwise disputing

philosophical schools. Furthermore, arguments given in the

Mozi that are purportedly based on intersubjective

observation seem extremely dubious, e.g., that ghosts exist because

stories are told about them very often. At one point in chapter 31,

in fact, the possibility that ghosts do not exist is explicitly

admitted, but sacrifices to spirits are justified on the grounds that

they produce good effects among the living. Ghosts in general are put

to good use in the text: their primary activity is to avenge

themselves upon the living persons who have done them wrong. The

standard of usefulness guides application of the other standards.

Even the attempted justification of the standard of usefulness by

reference to the will of tian or Heaven (in chapter 26) has

a suspect circularity to it. We are to promote benefits and avoid

harms because that is the will of Heaven, and Heaven's will is to be

relied upon because it is the wisest and noblest of all agents. But

what could be the criterion for a being's being wise and noble

exception the promotion of benefits and avoidance of harms?

Furthermore, the will of Heaven is demonstrated by the fact that

wrongdoers are punished and the virtuous rewarded. Again, the

evidence seems highly selective and is guided by the very standard of

usefulness that it is supposedly being justified.

Is Mohist consequentialism comparable to Western utilitarianism? They

are alike in that both kinds of ethic stress impartial concern and

judgment of what is right in terms of promoting benefit and avoiding

harm. Disanalogies are important here also. There is no attempt to

make explicit in the Mozi how exactly the consequences of alternative

actions or practices are to be compared against each other in

deciding what to do. This contrasts with contemporary forms of

utilitarianism that explicitly make maximizing the net greatest sum

total of good over bad the criterion of right action or practice (but

neither Mill nor Bentham were very explicit about this matter

either). Another difference is that Mozi's conception of benefit is

very concrete and relatively narrow, lacking in any psychological

dimension such as happiness. To promote benefits is to relieve

poverty, increase the population, and promote stability and order.

For some philosophers, Confucian acceptance of the plural sources of

moral duty is the right position, and they will see the Mohist

position as implausibly reductive of the complexity of the moral

life. However, one burden placed on such a position is to explain how

conflicts between these different sources of moral duty can be dealt

with, and it is not clear from the Analects how the

Confucian junzi makes the right choices in the face of such

conflicts. The Mohist position promises a foundational standard for

dealing with such conflicts—promoting benefits and avoiding

harms, with each person being counted equally. The standard is vague

on how benefits and harms are to be aggregated in judging the

rightness of actions and practices, and one might well raise

questions as to how benefits and harms are ultimately to be

distributed across persons, and whether a purely consequentialist

distribution really provides morally acceptable results. On the other

hand, Mohists may claim that they have at least provided some

standard to work with.

Other important questions arose in the debate between the Confucians

and the Mohists. Much of the debate that took place had to do with

skepticism about the ability of human beings to act on the doctrine

of impartial concern. Isn't partiality toward one's own natural and

inevitable? One Mohist response (chapter 16) to this question is that

there is no particular problem in getting people to act in this way

once the facts are brought before them. One such alleged fact is that

people respond in kind to the treatment they receive (curiously,

reciprocity serves as a norm for Confucians, it serves as a

generalization for Mohists). So, if one wishes others to

confer benefits on oneself, one confers benefits on them. If one

wishes good for one's family, one will confer benefits on other

families so that they will confer benefits on one's own family.

Another Mohist response is that the sage kings practiced impartial

concern, so it must be possible. Still another response is that

rulers can motivate their subjects to do even very difficult things.

The Mohist theme that no transformation of human character is needed

to act on the right values stands in striking contrast to the

Confucian theme that intellectual and emotional self-transformation

of character is required to follow the dao.

It may appear that the Mohist arguments for acting on impartial

concern are rather superficial and invite quick refutation, but

Confucians could also be accused of glossing over the difficulties of

getting people to have concern for all (if not equal and impartial

concern). As Analects 1.2 has it, the achievement of proper

relationships within the family is the basis of the achievement of

proper relationships to those outside the family, but this is not

only to neglect the possibility that it is much easier to develop

concern for those with whom one is interdependent but also to neglect

conflicts of the sort illustrated by the story of Shun's father

murdering a man. In circumstances where concern for family regularly

comes into tension with concern for those outside the family it may

be very difficult indeed for filial concern to develop into concern

for all.

4. Daoist Ethics

4.1 Ethical perspectives drawn from the Daodejing: the “soft” style of action and social primitivism

In the Daodejing (the text is associated with Laozi and is

thought to have originated sometime in the period of

6th-3rd century B.C.E.) and Zhuangzi

(a text associated with the historical Zhuangzi who lived in the

4th century B.C.E.) the focus shifts from the human social

world to the cosmos, in which that human world often appears to be

tiny and insignificant or even comically and absurdly self-important.

It may seem that such a distanced and detached perspective has no

ethical content or implications, but that is to assume an overly

narrow vision of the ethical. In its own way, Daoism addresses as

much as Confucianism does questions as to how one ought to live one's

life. Daoist ethics emphasizes appropriate responsiveness to the

broader world that shapes and enfolds the human social world.

The nature of the vision of the broader world is open to dispute. A

traditional interpretation of the Daodejing is that it

conveys a metaphysical vision of the dao as the source of

all things, and that this source is specially associated in nonbeing

and emptiness as contrasted with being, perhaps suggesting that the

dao is an indeterminate ontological ground in which the

myriad individual things are incipient. Some contemporary

commentators hold that the traditional interpretation is an

imposition on the text of later metaphysical concerns (Hansen, 1992;

LaFargue, 1992). Others hew closer to the traditional interpretation,

citing passages such as those in chapter 4, where Dao is described as

being empty, as seeming something like the ancestor of the myriad of

things, as appearing to precede the Lord (di).

However that issue is resolved, it is apparent that a certain

conception of the patterns of nature is embedded in the text and

informs its ethical recommendations. Consider the characterizations

of natural processes as falling into one or another of opposites:

there is the active, aggressive, hard, and the male, on the one hand;

and there is the passive, yielding, soft, and female, on the other

hand (later these forces were much more explicitly associated with

yang and yin). Conventional “knowledge”

and “wisdom” dichotomizes processes into one or another

of these categories and values the first over the second. The

Daodejing extols the efficacy of the second. Whereas the

first is associated with strength, the second, it is often said,

possesses a deeper, underlying strength as demonstrated by water

overcoming the hard and unyielding (chapter 78). Hence a

“soft” style of action, wu wei (literally,

“nonaction” but less misleadingly translated as

effortless action) is recommended, even as a style of ruling. For

example, chapter 66 says that one who desires to rule must in his

words humble himself before the people, and that one who desires to

lead the people must in his person follow them. Chapter 75 says that

rulers eat up too much in taxes and therefore people are hungry.

Rulers are too fond of action and therefore the people are difficult

to govern. Setting too much store on life makes people treat death

lightly. The last point brings out the related theme that striving

after something often produces the opposite of the intended result.

One of the more prominent themes in the Daodejing is the

rejection of moralism: a preoccupation with and striving to become

good or virtuous. Chapter 19 says to exterminate ren and

discard yi (righteousness or rectitude), and the people will

recover filial love.

One crucial ambiguity of the text is whether the “soft”

wu wei style of action is meant consistently to be extolled

over the “hard” style (as Lau claims in his introduction

to his translation of the Daodejing, 1963), or whether the

reversal of valuation is merely a heuristic device meant to correct a

common human tendency to err in the direction of consistently valuing

the hard style (LaFargue, 1992). The second alternative is consistent

with a theme plausibly attributed to the text: that all dichotomies

and all valuations based on them are unreliable in the end, even

evaluations that are reversals of the conventionally accepted ones.

Prescriptions to follow the “soft” style, taken as

exceptionless generalizations, are no more reliable than the

conventional wisdom to follow the “hard” style. On the

other hand, many of the prescriptions in the Daodejing seem

premised on the conception of there being genuine human needs that

are simple and few in number, and that desires going beyond these

needs are the source of trouble and conflict. Prescriptions for the

ruler seem to be aimed at bringing about a reversion to a kind of

primitivist state of society where no “improvements” are

sought or desired. Carried to its logical limit, this primitivism

implies the existence of a natural goodness with which human beings

ought to become attuned. Indeed, the first of the three treasures of

chapter 67 is ci or compassion. The ethics of the

Daodejing is in these respects less radical and iconoclastic

than some of its anti-moralistic language might suggest. If we are

not to strive after goodness, it is there nevertheless as something

that we must recover.

4.2 Ethical perspectives from Zhuangzi: skeptical questioning, attunement to the grain of things, inclusion and acceptance

On this point the Zhuangzi often sounds a much more

skeptical note. In the second (“Equalizing All Things”)

chapter of that text, the following questions go unanswered:

“How do I know that to take pleasure in life is not a delusion?

How do I know that we who hate death are not exiles since childhood

who have forgotten the way home?” (translation from Graham,

1989, 59). The human pretension to know what is true and important is

lampooned by comparing it to the pretension of the cicada and turtle

dove to know by their own experiences of flight the possibilities of

how high creatures can fly. There is no vision of a primitivist

utopia here either. Rather, the dominant attitude towards the

possibility of large-scale social change for the better is pessimism.

It is a dangerous task for the idealist to undertake, and one that

will probably end badly for the idealist because rulers don't like to

be lectured on their failings.

Yet if there is no natural goodness that makes possible a social

utopia, there still appears to be a grain of things to which human

beings can become attuned. A pessimistic Confucius tells his

idealistic student Yan Hui that he will probably get himself killed

in trying to change the ways of a callous and violent ruler, but

Confucius goes on to say that if he insists on trying, Yan Hui must

refrain from formulating plans and goals. Such preconceptions will

only interfere with seeing the ruler as he is and how he must be

dealt with (there is a grain, then, unique to each human being to

which one must become attuned to deal with him or her). So Yan Hui

must prepare not with plans but by fasting and emptying his mind.

Elsewhere in the text, there are happier references to activities

that involve attunement to the grain of whatever is at hand. These

forms of activity are presented as supremely satisfying. The most

prominent example is that of Cook Ding, the cook who is able to wield

his knife so skillfully in cutting up oxen that it flows without a

nick through the spaces within the joints. Cook Ding has gotten past

the stage where he sees with his eyes while cutting the ox; instead

his qi or vital energies move freely to where they must go.

The kind of phenomenology to which the Zhuangzi refers is

one in which there is no self-conscious guiding of one's actions but

rather a complete absorption with the matter of hand. The efficacy

and effortlessness of such activities might appear to suggest

privileged veridical access to the situation and material at hand.

Complete absorption in the matter at hand seems to involve the

ability to keep one's desires from interfering with one's attention.

The Daodejing contains epigrams about the desirability of

being desireless, but chapter 1 of the Zhuangzi includes an

entertaining story that conveys this lesson. Huizi tries to figure

out what to do with the shells of some huge gourds he had grown. He

tried using them as water dippers and water containers, but they are

too large and heavy for those purposes. Not being able to discover a

purpose for them, he smashes them to pieces. Zhuangzi chides his

friend for having underbrush in his head and not realizing that he

could have lashed the gourds together to make a raft for floating

about on the lakes and the rivers. A recurrent theme throughout the

first chapter is that we are ruled by our preconceptions of the uses

of things, which keeps us from being able to recognize the usefulness

of the “useless.” When performing skill activities such

as Cook Ding's, preoccupation with the “uses” of these

activities can interfere with our ability to perform them well.

Woodcarver Qing (chapter 19 of the Zhuangzi) makes marvelous

bellstands. When he goes to make one, he fasts in order to still his

mind. As he fasts, the distracting thoughts of congratulation and

reward melt away, honors and salary, blame and praise, skill and

clumsiness, even his awareness of having a body and limbs. Only when

he is able to focus does he go into the forest to observe the nature

of the wood, and only then does he have a complete vision of the

bellstand.

Interpretations of the Zhuangzi tend to give primacy either

to the skeptical passages or to the passages suggesting special

access to the grain of things. On the first option, Zhuangzi simply

appreciates the many perspectives on the world one could have, the

many ways of dividing the world up by sets of distinctions, none of

which can be shown in a non-question-begging manner to be superior to

the others (Hansen, 1992, 2003). On the second option, Zhuangzi is

often taken to hold in a kind of ineffable and nonconceptual access

to the world, an access that makes possible the efficacy of

activities such as Cook Ding's (Ivanhoe, 1996; Roth 1999, 2000). A

third possibility is that the text demonstrates a kind of continuing

dialectic between skepticism and the conviction that one has genuine

knowledge, and that the dialectic has no envisioned end. The

dialectic includes a stage of skeptical questioning of whatever one's

current beliefs are, but the aim is not merely to undermine but to

reveal something about the way the world that is occluded by one's

current beliefs. However, one is not allowed to rest content with the

new beliefs but is led to question their comprehensiveness and

adequacy precisely because they are suspected of occluding still

something else about the world (Wong, 2005).

However one might try to reconcile the tension between the skeptical

questioning and the claims to special knowledge, the stories about

skill activities such as Cook Ding's arguably exemplify certain kinds

of activities that human beings across cultures and historical

periods have experienced to their great satisfaction. These

activities involve the mastery of the many sub-activities that

constitute a complex activity with goals that challenge abilities of

the agent. The activities of master musicians (e.g., the technique of

fingering on a flute), artistic performers (e.g., the placement of

the toes in the pirouette of a dancer) and athletes (e.g., bringing

the bat through the optimal plane while swinging it to hit a

baseball) correspond rather closely to Cook Ding's mastery of the

sub-activities of cutting through the ox. In all these activities the

agent does not need to pay conscious attention to performance of the

sub-activities, and this enables attention to be focused on matters

that escape the apprentice. Just as Cook Ding's skill in the motor

execution of the motions of cutting allows him to fully focus on

where the joints and spaces are, the flutist is able to concentrate

on the music as she is making it and not her fingering technique (see

Csikszentmihalyi, 1990 for a study of such activities).

One interesting and realistic detail in the cook's story challenges

the reading of the skill stories as extolling the possibility of

nonconceptual access to the grain of things. The cook says that

whenever he comes to a complicated place in the ox, he sizes up the

difficulties, tell himself to watch out and be careful, keeps his

eyes on what he's doing, works very slowly, and moves the knife with

the greatest subtlety until the pieces fall away. Clearly there is

conceptualization going on here, and in fact it is implausible to

deny that the whole activity is being guided by a conceptualized

goal! There is a difference between self-conscious conceptualization

of experience and the application of concepts without awareness of

applying them. One mustn't confuse the latter with nonconceptualized

experience. While there may be some way of squaring this part of the

story with the interpretation that nonconceptual experience is

celebrated in the Zhuangzi, the virtue of the story is that

it is realistic and captures aspects of supremely skilled activities

that are part of the experience of many people. Insofar as the

Zhuangzi recommends such activities as part of a good life,

it very much presents an ethic.

It also presents an ethic in supporting the idea of inclusiveness and

acceptance. Here skeptical questioning of what we think we know,

especially what we think we know about people and who is good and has

something to offer to us are questioned in the chapter featuring

stigmatized individuals, often with feet amputated (a common criminal

punishment of the time), who turn out to be masters drawing as many

students as Confucius. The Zhuangzi also urges

identification and acceptance of the whole and of any and all of the

changes that its creatures undergo. We should not be so sure that

life is great and death is evil, and accept everything that comes our

way, marveling at the possibility that upon our death we might be

made into a fly's foreleg the next time around. The

Zhuangzi, like the Daodejing, calls upon human

beings to identify with the whole of the cosmos and its

transformations, and such identification involves acceptance, even

celebration of death and loss, because in dying one participates in

the next transformation of the cosmos and becomes something else to

marvel at, such as a fly's foreleg. Such a call may hold deep appeal,

especially for those who cannot see any form of monotheism as a

viable object for belief and yet desire some sort of spiritual

connection that stretches beyond the merely human community.

However, such a call also raises challenging questions about human

possibility. Can human beings really accept the loss of their selves

and their loved ones with the kind of equanimity that identification

with the whole requires? The Zhuangzi presents stories that

represent different possibilities for conceiving of the nature of

this equanimity. In the stories of the four masters, death is

accepted without the slightest shiver. In the story of the death of

Zhuangzi's wife, a more complex emotional story is told, whereby

Zhuangzi first feels her loss but comes to accept it as yet another

transformation. This story suggests that one may retain one's

attachments to particular people and yet maintain resilience in the

face of their loss because of one's identification with the whole

(see Becker, 1998 for an discussion of resilience in the face of loss

in the context of developing a contemporary Stoicism). But how is

such identification psychologically possible? In the

Zhuangzi, it seems based on a spirit of restless and joyful

exploration of the richness of the cosmos. In the end, it embodies

the emotion that is perhaps most fundamental to philosophy, and that

is wonder.

There is one more ethical implication of Daoism ethics that is more

of an implication that could be drawn by contemporary philosophers

than one that was drawn in the foundational texts. The

Zhuangzi's lampooning of human pretension and arrogance,

together with call to identify with the whole and with the nonhuman

parts of nature, has appealed to those seeking philosophical

perspectives within which to frame an environmental ethic (see

Girardot, Miller, and Liu, 2001). A Daoist perspective offers both an

alternative to an instrumentalist approach that would ground an

environmental ethic solely in the idea that it defeats human beings'

interests to foul their own environment and to an intrinsic value

approach that would ground duties to nature solely in a value that it

possesses apart from its relation to human beings. A Daoist approach

might point to the way that the human traits are conditioned by and

responses to the nonhuman environment, such that these traits cannot

be specified independently of the environment. In other words the

Daoist self is not a substantial independent existence but a

relational one whose boundaries extend into the conventionally

nonhuman, and from a Daoist perspective that is reconstructed to be

oriented toward the problem of the environment, we would do well to

acknowledge the ways in which whatever we value in ourselves is

connected to the nonhuman (Hourdequin and Wong, 2005). Treating the

environment correctly is not purely a matter of satisfying

conventional human interests such as conserving resources for our

future consumption, nor need it be a matter of recognizing a value

that the environment has in complete independence of its impact on

us. It can be a matter of recognizing that who we are cannot be

cleanly separated from the nonhuman environment. Moreover, there is

much to be gained from being open to the transformation of our

interests if we remain open to new sources of satisfaction in the

nonhuman environment that currently escape our conceptions of the

“useful” (recall Huizi and the gourds).

5. Legalism

Legalism is perhaps best introduced as the opposite reaction to

Analects 2.3, in which Confucius says that guiding the

people by edicts and keeping them in line with punishments will keep

them out of trouble but will give them no sense of shame; guiding

them by virtue and keeping them in line with the rites will not only

give them a sense of shame but enable them to reform themselves. In

the most prominent Legalist text, the Hanfeizi (Hanfei lived

during the 3rd century B.C.E.), the people are

characterized as far too swayed by their material interests to be

guided by a sense of shame. People must be guided by clear edicts and

strong punishments. Furthermore, rulers must be wary of their

ambitious ministers and take care not to reveal their own likes and

dislikes so as not to be manipulated by their scheming subordinates.

As to rulers themselves, it is a mistake to found government on the

presumption that they are or can become virtuous. While exceptionally

good and exceptionally evil rulers have existed, the vast majority of

rulers have been mediocre. Governments must be structured so that it

can run satisfactorily, because that is what rulers will be like

almost always.

The Confucians held that the remedy to China's turmoil and chaos lay

in wise and morally excellent rulers—that moral excellence

would ripple downwards from the top and create harmony and

prosperity. The Daodejing upholds a vision of an original

harmony that human beings once had, a way that consisted in living in

accord with the natural grain of things, and that involves seeking

only what one truly needs, not in multiplying useless desires that

only agitate and ultimately make us unhappy. The Legalists rejected

moral and spiritual transformation, of either the Confucian or Laoist

kind, as the solution to China's troubles. Most human beings will

remain unlovely beings to the end, and governmental structures must

be designed for such beings. The sort of structure recommended is a

highly centralized government in which the ruler retains firm control

of the “two handles” of government: punishment and favor

(chapter 7). By making sure he always has his own hands on these

handles, the ruler remains in firm control of his ministers. If a

minister proposes a way to get something done, measure his

performance on whether he gets it done in the way he says he will. If

not, punish him. The ruler is to hold his officials strictly to the

definitions of their role responsibilities, so that they are punished

not only when they fail to perform some of those assigned

responsibilities but also when they do more than their assigned

responsibilities.

Some of the most interesting parts of the text consist of arguments

supporting the necessity of governmental structure and the folly of

depending on the character of rulers. The “Five Vermin”

chapter (49) presents an important and provocative argument that

threatens to undermine the basis of virtue ethics. It is argued there

that social harmony and prosperity is an achievement requiring

fortuitous circumstances. The chapter does not dispute an assumption

that is commonly held across Chinese philosophical schools—that

the sage-kings of ancient times were virtuous and ruled over a

harmonious and prosperous society. It is disputed, however, that

their virtue was the primary cause of this golden age. What about

those kings in more recent times who were ren and

yi, benevolent and righteous, and who got wiped out for

their trouble? Virtue is not the explanation of success or failure.

The explanation has much more to do with the scarcity of goods in

relation to the number of people. This argument has in fact been

repeated in contemporary analytic moral philosophy by philosophers

drawing from “situationist” psychology, which highlights

the importance of situations rather than “global”

character traits in causing behavior. Global traits involve

dispositions to behave in certain ways regardless of the situation or

at least across a wide range of situations. One of the most striking

experiments marshaled in favor of situationism was conducted in a

theological seminary, where students were set up to encounter a

person slumped in an alleyway. The experiment was to see what factors

influenced a student's decision whether to stop and offer aid. It was

found that by far the most influential variable was whether students

were in a hurry for the next appointment, rather than the nature of

students' commitments to religion or the nature of the tasks in which

they were engaged at the time, even if the task was preparing a

sermon on the Good Samaritan (Darley and Batson, 1973)! Philosophers

Gilbert Harman (1998–99, 1999–2000) and John Doris (2000)

have used studies like this to argue that global character traits are

a myth and that the type of situation has much more to do with how

people behave than any supposed character or personality they

possess. Hanfeizi, then was the first situationist. The way that

Hanfeizi's situationism threatens Confucian virtue ethics is that it

disputes the possibility of the junzi, noblepersons who

possess firm and stable excellent characters.

Confucians can give replies to such arguments. The most obvious reply

is that they never promised virtue would be easy. Indeed, the

canonical texts all stress the difficulty of achieving full virtue.

Mencius in particular conceives of moral development as extending the

natural beginnings of virtue to situations where they ought to extend

but do not currently extend. The experiments in psychology marshaled

in favor of situationism, moreover, typically do point to a minority

of subjects who show a more desirable consistency of behavior in the

experimental situation. Confucians might also object that good

results will follow from the kind of structure described in the

Hanfeizi only if persons of good-enough character staff it.

The Hanfeizi sometimes implicitly acknowledges this point

and integrates it with a reasonable stress on structure and

impersonal administration. In chapter 6 there is discussion of what

is necessary to compensate for a mediocre ruler: getting able people

with the right motives to serve that ruler. Institute laws and

regulations specifying how these people are selected: not on the

basis of reputation alone, since that will give people an incentive

to curry favor with their associates and subordinates and disregard

the ruler; not on the basis of cliques, since that will motivate

people only to establish connections rather than acquire the

qualifications to perform in office. Specify the qualifications

clearly in laws and regulations, appoint, promote, and dismiss

strictly according to these specifications. The law, not the ruler's

personal views, must form the basis for these actions. In chapter 43,

consideration is given to the suggestion that those who take heads in

battle should be rewarded with desirable offices. This is rejected in

cases where the office requires wisdom and ability rather than

courage. In the end, one wonders whether a good number of such

persons of right motive, competence, courage, wisdom and ability are

enough, given the highly centralized nature of the government

recommended in the Hanfeizi. A lot depends on the ruler who

wields the “two handles” of government. Taken in moderate

doses, Hanfeizi arguably provides a needed corrective to the

Confucian emphasis on character. Structure can be designed with an

eye to the realistic possibilities for mediocre and bad rulers. The

Confucian emphasis on discretion in judgment is obviously subject to

abuse that can be checked by structures that provide a degree of

impersonal administration and consistent application of relatively

clear laws and regulations. The American legal experience seems to

show, however, that no set of laws can interpret itself with an eye

to complex situations that are unforeseeable when laws are framed.

Ultimately, stable character and wise discretion are needed.

The strongest challenge that Legalism raises to virtue ethics is not

that stable virtues are impossible to achieve, but that they are not

realistic possibilities for most persons, and that therefore lofty

virtue ideals cannot provide the basis for a large-scale social

ethic. Even if these ideals are directed only at an elite that is

then expected to lead the rest of the people, the question arises as

to what influence this elite can have on the rest if the majority do

not have some attraction to virtue. It is dubious, however, that the

solution lies in seeking to make character irrelevant.

6. Chinese Buddhist Ethics

Buddhism is not indigenous to China, and it has a long and rich

tradition of thought and practice in India and in areas other than

China. This brief section will focus on ethical aspects of the most

distinctive form of Buddhism that developed once it was introduced to

China: Chan Buddhism, or as it came to be known later in Japan, Zen.

It should be noted, however, that prominent forms of Chinese Buddhism

also include Tiantai and Huayan. All three forms of Chinese Buddhism

developed in interaction with indigenous Chinese thought, especially

Daoism. Chan developed partly as a response to the perception of some

Chinese Buddhists that Tiantai and Huayan had developed in overly

scholastic directions with proliferating metaphysical distinctions

and doctrines that hinder rather than aid Enlightenment.

The immediate focus of Buddhist ethics is the problem of suffering,

and a conception of the self is at the heart of the Buddhist response

to that problem. The self is conceived as a floating collection of

various psychophysical reactions and responses with no fixed center

or unchanging ego entity. The usual human conception of self as a

fixed and unchanging center is a delusion. Our bodily attributes,

various feelings, perceptions, ideas, wishes, dreams, and in general

a consciousness of the world display a constant interplay and

interconnection that leads us to the belief that there is some

definite ‘I’ that underlies and is independent of the

ever-shifting series. But there is only the interacting and

interconnected series. Human suffering ultimately stems from a

concern for the existence and pleasures and pains of the kind of self

that never existed in the first place. Recognition of the

impermanence of the self can lead to release or mitigation of

suffering, but the recognition cannot merely be intellectual. It must

involve transformation of one's desires. The belief on some abstract

level, for example, that there are no permanent selves is a belief

that can co-exist with having and acting on intense desires to avoid

death, as if death were some evil befalling some underlying

‘I’. Similarly, the intellectual recognition that none of

the “things” of ordinary life are fixed and separate

entities, anymore than the self is, can lead to recognition of all of

life as an interdependent whole and to the practical attitude of

compassion for all of life. But if the latter recognition is again

merely intellectual, one can still have and act on intensely

self-regarding desires at severe cost to others. In both cases a

transformation of desire is what is required in order to go beyond

the merely intellectual and to achieve true Enlightenment and

meaningful recognition of one's true nature as impermanent and as

interdependent with all other things.

Recall the practical focus and the closeness to pre-theoretical

experience that are distinctive of indigenous Chinese philosophy.

These traits interacted with Buddhism as it was introduced into

China. The ‘Chan’ in “Chan Buddhism” comes

from the Sanskrit ‘dhyana’ which means

meditation. Though meditation practice is not the only practice

employed in Chan, its central role does illustrate the focus on

achieving transformation of one's desires through experience of the

self and the world. This kind of transformation is different than

reaching intellectual conviction through textual study and

understanding of argumentation, and also different than escape from

the world of suffering through obliteration of one's consciousness as

an individual being. Chinese Buddhism in the form of Chan was

especially influential in putting forward this conception of

Enlightenment as lived in this world rather than escape from it.

Daoism in particular has themes that make it especially appropriate

for interaction with Buddhism. Recall the theme that one must keep

desires from interfering with one's attention to the matter at hand.

Correspondingly, a major theme in Chan is that all forms of striving,

especially the very striving for Enlightenment, interfere with

attention to one's true nature (Hui Neng, 638–713, Platform

Scripture). Hence the reason for the otherwise puzzlingly harsh

reactions of Chan masters to the earnest strivings of their students

to reach Enlightenment (Yi Xuan, d. 866, The Recorded

Conversations of Linji Yi Xuan) especially if such strivings

have any tinge of the academic or doctrinal about them (Huang Po, d.

850, The Transmission of Mind). Recall also the theme in

Daodejing concerning the dao as the source of the

myriad things. The Buddha's insight into the nature of the many

things brought him to recognize the Many as also the One. Finally,

recall the skeptical theme in Daoism about the limits of

conceptualization. The Buddha's insight into the Many as also the One

does not mean that the Many are really only One, but rather Many and

Once at once, and if we have difficulty making sense of that, it is

founded in the limits of our conceptualization. Finally, there is the

same possibility for ambiguity as to whether there is some ineffable

and nonconceptual access to an ultimate reality or whether there is

skeptical question that goes all the way down (or all the way up?).

In the Zhuangzi this ambiguity is quite apparent. And though

Chan is usually taken to affirm a foundation in ineffable access

(Kasulis, 1986), there are those who argue that a thoroughgoing

skepticism is truer to its spirit (Wright, 1998).

Since the self is a bundle of changing psychological and physical

attributes whose boundaries are conventionally established, and since

its attributes exist only in relation to other things outside its

conventionally established boundaries, it ought to dampen attachment

its self-regarding cares and concerns and widen the boundaries of its

concerns to embrace all life. This Buddhist reasoning certainly is an

interesting way to ground impersonal concern, and it may appeal to

those of us who see little plausibility in the idea of Cartesian

substances as fixed ego entities. On the other hand, this reasoning

may seem to drain all passion from life, and it requires that we

dampen the attachment we have not only to our selves but also to

particular others such as friends and family members. Buddhism is

especially well known for its advocacy of detachment, not only from

material possessions, worldly power and status, but also from

particular people and communities. For example, in Ashvaghosha's poem

on “Nanda the Fair,” the Buddha explains to Nanda that

delusion alone ties one person to another (Conze, 1959, 110). The

argument is that a family is like a group of travelers at an inn who

come together for a while and then part. No one belongs to anyone

else. A family is held together only as sand is held in a clenched

fist. Issues as to the desirability and realistic possibility of such

a detached attitude arise here, and not surprisingly, the issues are

similar to ones raised by Daoist identification with the cosmos. As

the discussion of Zhuangzi and wife made clear, it may be possible to

distinguish as an alternative to the pure and complete detachment

exemplified in Ashvagosha another kind that is consistent with

emotional involvement with others for as long as they are given to

us.

Bibliography

Ames, Roger T., 1991, “ The Mencian Conception of Ren Xing:

Does It Mean Human Nature?” in Chinese Texts and

Philosophical Contexts: Essays Dedicated to Angus C. Graham, ed.

Henry Rosemont Jr., La Salle, IL: Open Court.

–––, 2002, “Mencius and a Process Notion of

Human Nature,” in Mencius: Contexts and

Interpretations, ed. Alan Kam-leung Chan, Honolulu: University of

Hawai‘i Press.

–––, 2011, Confucian Role Ethics: A

Vocabulary, Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press.

Angle, Stephen C., 2002, Human Rights and Chinese Thought: A

Cross-Cultural Inquiry, Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press.

–––, 2009, Sagehood: The Contemporary

Significance of neo-Confucian Philosophy, New York: Oxford

University Press.

Angle, Stephen C. and Marina Svensson, eds., 2001, The Chinese

Human Rights Reader: Documents and Commentary 1900–2000, Armonk,

NY: M.E. Sharpe.

Becker, Lawrence, 1998, A New Stoicism, Princeton:

Princeton University Press.

Blofeld, John, trans., 1958, Zen Teaching of Huang Po: On

Transmission of Mind, New York: Grove Press.

Bloom, Irene, 1994, “Mencian Arguments on Human

Nature,” Philosophy East & West 44: 19–53.

–––, 1997, “Nature and Biological Nature in Mencius,

” Philosophy East &

West 47: 21–32.

–––, 2002, “Biology and Culture in the Mencian

View of Human Nature,” in Mencius: Contexts and

Interpretations, ed. Alan Kam-leung Chan, Honolulu: University of

Hawai‘i Press.

Brindley, Erica, 2010, Individualism in Early China: Human

Agency and Self in Thought and Politics, Honolulu: University of

Hawai‘i Press.

Brooks, Bruce and A. Takeo Brooks, 1998, The Original

Analects: Sayings of Confucius and His Successors, New York:

Columbia University Press.

–––, 2000, “Response to the

Review by Edward Slingerland,” Philosophy East &

West 50: 141–46.

Chan, Joseph, 1999, “A Confucian Perspective on Human Rights

for Contemporary China,” in The East Asian Challenge for

Human Rights, ed. Joanne R. Bauer and Daniel A. Bell, New York:

Cambridge University Press, 212–247.

Chan, Wing-tsit, ed. and trans., 1963, Instructions for

Practical Living and Other Neo-Confucian Writings, New York:

Columbia University Press.

Conze, Edward, ed. and trans., 1959, Buddhist Scriptures,

New York: Penguin.

Creswell, J., David, Way, Baldwin, M., Eisenberger, Naomi I., and

Lieberman. Matthew D., 2007. “Neural Correlates of

Dispositional Mindfulness During Affect

Labeling,” Psychosomatic Medicine 69: 560–565.

Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly, 1990, Flow: the Psychology of

Optimal Experience, New York: Harper.

Darley, J. M. and C.D. Batson, 1973, “From Jerusalem to Jericho:

A study of Situational and Dispositional Variables in Helping

Behavior,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 27:

100–108.

Doris, John, 2002, Lack of Character: Personality and

Moral Behavior, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Eno, Robert, 1990, The Confucian Creation of Heaven:

Philosophy and the Defense of Ritual Mastery, Albany, NY: State

University of New York Press.

Fingarette, Herbert, 1972, Confucius: The Secular as Sacred, New

York: Harper.

Fraser, Chris, 2007, “Mohist Canons”, in

The Stanford Encyclopedia of

Philosophy (Spring 2007 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL =

Fung, Yu-lan, 1948, A Short History of Chinese Philosophy: A

Systematic Account of Chinese Thought from Its Origins to the Present

Day, New York: Macmillan.

Gardner, Daniel K., 2003, Zhu Xi's Reading of the Analects: Canon,

Commentary, and the Classical Tradition, New York: Columbia

University Press.

Gardner, Daniel K., ed., 1990, Chu Hsi Learning to be a

Sage: Selections from the Conversations of Master Chu, Arranged

Topically, Berkeley: University of California Press.

Gauthier, David, 1986, Morals by Agreement, Oxford:

Oxford University Press.

Girardot, N. J., James Miller, and Xiaogan Liu, 2001, Daoism

and Ecology: Ways within a Cosmic Landscape (Cambridge, MA:

Harvard Center for the Study of World Religions.

Graham, A. C., 1986, “What was New in the Ch'eng-Chu

Theory of Human Nature?” in Chu Hsi and

Neo-Confucianism, ed. Wing-tsit Chan, Honolulu: Hawai‘i University

Press, 137–157.

–––, 1989, Chuang-Tzu: The Inner Chapters,

Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing.

Haidt, Jonathan, 2003, “Elevation and the Positive

Psychology of Morality,” in Flourishing: Positive psychology

and the Life Well-Lived, ed. Corey L. M. Keyes and Jonathan

Haidt, Washington DC : American Psychological Association.

Haidt, Jonathan, and Fredrik Bjorklund, 2008, “Social

Intuitionists Answer Six Questions about Morality,” in Moral

Psychology, v. 2: The Cognitive Science of Morality, ed. Walter

Sinnott-Armstrong, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Hall, David L., and Roger T. Ames, 1987, Thinking Through

Confucius, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

–––, 1998, Chapter 2, “The

Focus-Field Self in Classical Confucianism,” in Thinking from

the Han: Self, Truth, and Transcendence in Chinese and Western

Culture, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 23–43.

Hansen, Chad, 1992, A Daoist Theory of Chinese Thought,

New York: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2003, “Guru or Skeptic? Relativistic

Skepticism in the Zhuangzi,” in Hiding the World in

the World: Uneven Discourses on the Zhuangzi, ed. Scott Cook,

Albany: State University of New York Press, 128–162.

Harman, Gilbert, 1998–99, “Moral Philosophy Meets Social

Psychology: Virtue Ethics and the Fundamental Attribution Error,”

Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 99: 315–31.

–––, 1999–2000, “The Nonexistence of Character

Traits,” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 100:

223–6.

Hauser, Marc D., Liane Young, and Fiery Cushman, 2008,

“Reviving Rawls's Linguistic Analogy: Operative Principles and

the Causal Structure of Moral Action,” in Moral Psychology,

v. 2: The Cognitive Science of Morality: Intuition and Diversity,

ed. Walter Sinnott-Armstrong, Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Hourdequin, Marion and David B. Wong, 2005, “A Relational

Approach to Environmental Ethics,” Journal of Chinese

Philosophy 32: 19–33.

Hutton, Eric, 2006. “Character, Situationism, and Early

Confucian Thought,” Philosophical Studies 127:

37–58.

Ihara, Craig K., 2004, “Are Individual Rights Necessary? A

Confucian Perspective,” in Confucian Ethics: A Comparative Study of

Self, Autonomy, and Community, ed. Kwong-loi Shun and David B.

Wong, New York: Cambridge University Press, 11–30.

Im, Manyul, 1999, “Emotional Control and Virtue in the

Mencius,” Philosophy East and West 49: 1–27

Ivanhoe, Philip J., 1990, Ethics in the Confucian Tradition:

the Thought of Mencius and Wang Yang Ming, Atlanta, GA: Scholars

Press.

–––, 1993, Confucian Moral Self

Cultivation, New York: Peter Lang.

–––, 1996, “Was Zhuangzi a Relativist?”

in Skepticism, Relativism, and Ethics in the Zhuangzi, ed.

Paul Kjellberg and P.J. Ivanhoe, Albany, NY: State University of New

York Press, 196–214.

–––, 2002, “Confucian Self Cultivation and

Mengzi's Notion of Extension,” in Essays on the Moral

Philosophy of Mengzi, ed. Xiusheng Liu and Philip J. Ivanhoe,

Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 221–241.

Kasulis, Thomas, 1986, Zen Action/Zen Person, Honolulu:

University of Hawai‘i Press.

Knoblock, John, 1988–94, Xunzi: a Translation and Study

of the Complete Works, 3 vols., Stanford, Stanford University

Press.

Kupperman, Joel J., 1999, Learning from Asian Philosophy,

New York: Oxford University Press.

LaFargue, Michael, 1992, The Tao of the Tao Te Ching,

Albany: State University of New York Press.

Lau, D. C., trans., 1963, Lao Tzu: Tao Te Ching, New

York: Penguin.

–––, trans., 1970, Mencius, New York:

Penguin.

–––, trans., 1979, Confucius: the Analects, New

York: Penguin.

Legge, James, trans., 1967, Li Chi: Book of Rites, 2

vols., New York: University Books.

–––, trans., 1971, Confucius: Confucian Analects, the

Great Learning, & the Doctrine of the Mean, New York:

Dover.

Li, Chenyang, 2007, “Li as Cultural Grammar: On the

Relation between Li and Ren in Confucius'

Analects,” Philosophy East & West 57:

311–29.

Lieberman, Matthew D., Inagaki, Tristen K., Tabibnia, Golnaz, and

Crockett, Molly J., 2011, “Subjective Responses to Emotional

Stimuli During Labeling, Reappraisal, and

Distraction,” Emotion, 11(3): 468–480.

Machle, Edward J., 1993, Nature and Heaven in the Xunzi: A

Study of the Tian Lun, Albany, NY: State University of New York

Press.

MacIntyre, Alasdair, 1984, After Virtue: A Study in Moral

Theory, 2nd edition, Notre Dame: University of Notre

Dame.

–––, 1989, Whose Justice? Which

Rationality?, Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press.

McRae, Emily, 2011, “The Cultivation of Moral Feelings and

Mengzi's Method of Extension,” Philosophy East &

West 61: 587–608.

Mikhail, John, 2011, Elements of Moral Cognition, New

York: Cambridge University Press.

Milgram, Stanley, 1974, Obedience to Authority, New York: Harper.

Mischel, Walter, Shoda, Yuichi, and Rodriguez, Monica L., 1989,

“Delay of Gratification in Children,” Science

244: 933–938.

Nichols, Shaun, 2004, Sentimental Rules: On the Natural

Foundations of Moral Judgment, New York: Oxford University

Press.

Nivison, David S., 1991, “Hsün Tzu and Chuang Tzu,” in

Chinese Texts and Philosophical Contexts: Essays Dedicated to Angus

C. Graham, ed. Henry Rosemont, Jr., La Salle, IL: Open Court, 129–142.

–––, 1996, “Motivation and Moral Action in

Mencius,” in The Ways of Confucianism, ed. Bryan Van

Nordan, La Salle, IL.: Open Court, 91–114.

Olberding, Amy, 2008, “Dreaming of the Duke of Zhou:

Exemplarism and the Analects,” Journal of Chinese

Philosophy 35: 625–639.

–––, 2012, Moral Exemplars in the Analects:

The Good Person is That. New York: Routledge.

Rosemont, Henry, 1991, A Chinese Mirror: Moral Reflections on

Political Economy and Society, La Salle, IL: Open Court.

–––, 2004, “Whose Democracy? Which Rights?

A Confucian Critique of Modern Western Liberalism,”

in Confucian Ethics: A Comparative Study of Self, Autonomy, and

Community, ed. Kwong-loi Shun and David B. Wong, New York:

Cambridge University Press, 49–71.

Roth, Harold D., 1999, Original Tao: Inward Training (Nei-yeh)

and the Foundations of Taoist Mysticism, New York, Columbia

University Press.

–––, 2000, ‘Bimodal Mystical Experience in the

‘Qiwu lun’ Chapter of Zhuangzi,’ Journal of

Chinese Religions 28: 31–50.

Sarkissian, Hagop, 2010, “Minor Tweaks, Major Payoffs: The

Problems and Promise of Situationism in Moral

Philosophy,” Philosophers' Imprint 10: 1–15.

Shun, Kwong-loi, 1993, “Ren and Li in the

Analects,” Philosophy East & West 43:

457–79; modified version in Confucius and the Analects: New

Essays, New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.

–––, 1997, Mencius and Early Chinese Thought,

Stanford: Stanford University Press.

–––, 2004, “Conception of the Person in Early

Confucian Thought,” in Confucian Ethics: A Comparative Study of

Self, Autonomy, and Community, ed. Kwong-loi Shun and David B.

Wong, New York: Cambridge University Press, 183–199.

Slingerland, Edward, 2000, “Why Philosophy is Not

‘Extra’ in Understanding the Analects” and

“Reply to Bruce Brooks and A. Takeo Brooks,” Philosophy

East & West 50: 137–41, 146–7.

–––, 2009, “Toward an

Empirically-Responsible Ethics: Cognitive Science, Virtue Ethics, and

Effortless Attention in Early Chinese Thought,”

in Effortless Attention: A New Perspective in the Cognitive

Science of Attention and Action, ed. Brian Bruya, Cambridge, MA:

Bradford Books.

–––, 2011, “The Situationist Critique and

Early Confucian Virtue Ethics,” Ethics 121:

390–419.

Slingerland, Edward, trans., 2003, Confucius:

Analects, Indianapolis: Hackett.

Tan, Sor Hoon, 2005, “Imagining Confucius: Paradigmatic

Characters and Virtue Ethics,” Journal of Chinese

Philosophy 32: 409–426.

Thompson, Kirill O., 1988, “Li and yi as

immanent: Chu Hsi's thought in practical perspective,”

Philosophy East & West 38: 30–46.

Tiwald, Justin, 2010, “Dai Zhen on Sympathetic

Concern,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 37.1:

76–89.

–––, 2011a, “Dai Zhen's Defense of

Self-Interest,” Journal of Chinese Philosophy 38

(supplement): 29–45.

–––, 2011b, “Sympathy and Perspective-Taking in

Confucian Ethics,” Philosophy Compass 6.10:

663–674.

Vallentyne, Peter, ed., 1991, Contractarianism and Rational

Choice: Essays on David Gauthier's Morals by Agreement, New York:

Cambridge University Press.

Van Norden, Bryan, 2004, “The Virtue of Righteousness in

Mencius,” in Confucian Ethics: A Comparative Study of Self,

Autonomy, and Community, ed. Kwong-loi Shun and David B. Wong,

New York: Cambridge University Press, 148–182.

–––, 2007, Virtue Ethics and Consequentialism

in Early Chinese Philosophy, Cambridge: Cambridge University

Press.

Waley, Arthur, trans., 1938, The Analects of Confucius,

London: George Allen & Unwin, 1938; reissue (1989), New York:

Vintage: 1989.

Walzer, Michael, 1983, Spheres of Justice: a Defense of

Pluralism and Equality, New York: Basic Books.

Watson, Burton, 1967, Basic Writings of Mo Tzu, Hsün Tzu,

and Han Fei Tzu, New York: Columbia University Press.

Wong, David B., 2002, “Reasons and Analogical Reasoning in

Mengzi,” in Essays on the Moral Philosophy of Mengzi, ed.

Xiusheng Liu and Philip J. Ivanhoe, Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing

Company, 187–220.

–––, 2004, “Rights and Community in

Confucianism,” in

Confucian Ethics: A Comparative Study of Self, Autonomy, and

Community, ed. Kwong-loi Shun and David B. Wong, New York:

Cambridge University Press, 31–48.

–––, 2005, “Zhuangzi and the Obsession with Being

Right,”

History of Philosophy Quarterly

22 (2005): 91–107.

Wright, Dale S., 1998, “Mind: the ‘Great Matter’

of Zen,” in Philosophical Meditations on Zen Buddhism,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 157–180.

Yu, Jiyuan, 2007, The Ethics of Confucius and Aristotle:

Mirrors of Virtue, New York: Routledge.

Academic Tools

How to cite this entry.

Preview the PDF version of this entry at the

Friends of the SEP Society.

Look up this entry topic

at the Indiana Philosophy Ontology Project

(InPhO).

Enhanced bibliography for this entry

at PhilPapers, with links to its database.

Other Internet Resources

Western Chinese Philosophical Etext Archive. Electronic versions

of texts in Chinese.

Chad Hansen's Chinese Philosophy Pages.

Internet Guide for Chinese Studies.

Related Entries

Chinese Philosophy: Mohism |

Chinese Philosophy: Mohist Canons |

comparative philosophy: Chinese and Western |

Confucius |

Daoism |

Laozi |

Mencius |

Xunzi |

Zhuangzi

David Wong

This is a file in the archives of the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

Please note that some links may no longer be functional.

Browse

Table of Contents

New in this Archive

Chronological

Archives

About

Editorial Information

About the SEP

Editorial Board

How to Cite the SEP

Special Characters

Contact

Support SEP

Support the SEP

PDFs for SEP Friends

Make a Donation

SEPIA for Libraries

Mirror Sites

View this site from another server:

USA (Main Site)

CSLI, Stanford University

Info about mirror sites

Library of Congress Catalog Data: ISSN 1095-5054

[an error occurred while processing the directive]

ETHICS在剑桥英语词典中的解释及翻译

词典

翻译

语法

同义词词典

+Plus

剑桥词典+Plus

Shop

剑桥词典+Plus

我的主页

+Plus 帮助

退出

剑桥词典+Plus

我的主页

+Plus 帮助

退出

中文 (简体)

查找

英语

ethics 在英语中的意思

ethics phrase [ U ]

Add to word list

C2 the study of what is morally right and what is not: He took a broad range of courses in sociology, religion, ethics, political thought and more. We studied that case in our ethics class. 相关词语

ethical

ethically 也请参见

ethic

(ethics在剑桥高级学习词典和同义词词典中的解释 © Cambridge University Press)

ethics | 美式英语词典

ethicsnoun [ U ] us

Your browser doesn't support HTML5 audio

/ˈeθ·ɪks/

Add to word list

the study of what is morally right and wrong, or a set of beliefs about what is morally right and wrong: They’re completely lacking in ethics.

(ethics在剑桥学术词典中的解释 © Cambridge University Press)

ethics的发音是什么？

ethics的翻译

西班牙语

ética [feminine]…

查看更多内容

葡萄牙语

ética [feminine]…

查看更多内容

更多语言

土耳其语

法语

日语

in Dutch

捷克语

丹麦语

印尼语

泰语

越南语

波兰语

in Swedish

马来语

德语

挪威语

in Ukrainian

俄语

ahlak/töre bilimi, etik, töre/ahlak bilimi…

查看更多内容

éthique [feminine], éthique, moralité…

查看更多内容

道徳（どうとく）…

查看更多内容

ethiek…

查看更多内容

etika, morálka…

查看更多内容

etik, moral, morallære…

查看更多内容

etika, moral…

查看更多内容

จริยศาสตร์, หลักศีลธรรม…

查看更多内容

đạo đức học, đạo lý…

查看更多内容

etyka…

查看更多内容

etik, morallära, moral…

查看更多内容

etika, moral…

查看更多内容

die Ethik, die Moral…

查看更多内容

etikk [masculine], etikk, morallære…

查看更多内容

етика, мораль, норми поведінки…

查看更多内容

мораль, нравственность…

查看更多内容

需要一个翻译器吗？

获得快速、免费的翻译！

翻译器工具

浏览

ethical vegan

ethical veganism

ethically

ethicist

ethics phrase

Ethiopia

Ethiopian

ethmoid

ethmoidal

ethics的更多意思

全部

ethic

medical ethics

business ethics

ethics

查看全部意思»

“每日一词”

marshmallow

Your browser doesn't support HTML5 audio

/ˌmɑːʃˈmæl.əʊ/

Your browser doesn't support HTML5 audio

/ˈmɑːrʃˌmæl.oʊ/

a soft, sweet, pink or white food

关于这个

博客

Renowned and celebrated (Words meaning ‘famous’)

March 13, 2024

新词

inverse vaccine

March 11, 2024

已添加至 list

回到页面顶端

内容

英语美式翻译

©剑桥大学出版社与评估2024

学习

新词

帮助

纸质书出版

Word of the Year 2021

Word of the Year 2022

Word of the Year 2023

开发

词典API

双击查看

搜索Widgets

执照数据

关于

无障碍阅读

剑桥英语教学

剑桥大学出版社与评估

授权管理

Cookies与隐私保护

语料库

使用条款

京ICP备14002226号-2

©剑桥大学出版社与评估2024

剑桥词典+Plus

我的主页

+Plus 帮助

退出

词典

定义

清晰解释自然的书面和口头英语

英语

学习词典

基础英式英语

基础美式英语

翻译

点击箭头改变翻译方向。

双语词典

英语-中文（简体）

Chinese (Simplified)–English

英语-中文（繁体）

Chinese (Traditional)–English

英语-荷兰语

荷兰语-英语

英语-法语

法语-英语

英语-德语

德语-英语

英语-印尼语

印尼语-英语

英语-意大利语

意大利语-英语

英语-日语

日语-英语

英语-挪威语

挪威语-英语

英语-波兰语

波兰语-英语

英语-葡萄牙语

葡萄牙语-英语

英语-西班牙语

西班牙语-英语

English–Swedish

Swedish–English

半双语词典

英语-阿拉伯语

英语-孟加拉语

英语-加泰罗尼亚语

英语-捷克语

英语-丹麦语

English–Gujarati

英语-印地语

英语-韩语

英语-马来语

英语-马拉地语

英语-俄语

English–Tamil

English–Telugu

英语-泰语

英语-土耳其语

英语-乌克兰语

English–Urdu

英语-越南语

翻译

语法

同义词词典

Pronunciation

剑桥词典+Plus

Shop

剑桥词典+Plus

我的主页

+Plus 帮助

退出

中文 (简体)

Change

English (UK)

English (US)

Español

Русский

Português

Deutsch

Français

Italiano

中文 (简体)

正體中文 (繁體)

Polski

한국어

Türkçe

日本語

Tiếng Việt

Nederlands

Svenska

Dansk

Norsk

हिंदी

বাঙ্গালি

मराठी

ગુજરાતી

தமிழ்

తెలుగు

Українська

关注我们

选择一本词典

Virtue Ethics (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)

Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Browse

Table of Contents

What's New

Random Entry

Chronological

Archives

About

Editorial Information

About the SEP

Editorial Board

How to Cite the SEP

Special Characters

Advanced Tools

Contact

Support SEP

Support the SEP

PDFs for SEP Friends

Make a Donation

SEPIA for Libraries

Entry Navigation

Entry Contents

Bibliography

Academic Tools

Friends PDF Preview

Author and Citation Info

Virtue EthicsFirst published Fri Jul 18, 2003; substantive revision Tue Oct 11, 2022

Virtue ethics is currently one of three major approaches in normative

ethics. It may, initially, be identified as the one that emphasizes

the virtues, or moral character, in contrast to the approach that

emphasizes duties or rules (deontology) or that emphasizes the

consequences of actions (consequentialism). Suppose it is obvious that

someone in need should be helped. A utilitarian will point to the fact

that the consequences of doing so will maximize well-being, a

deontologist to the fact that, in doing so the agent will be acting in

accordance with a moral rule such as “Do unto others as you

would be done by” and a virtue ethicist to the fact that helping

the person would be charitable or benevolent.

This is not to say that only virtue ethicists attend to virtues, any

more than it is to say that only consequentialists attend to

consequences or only deontologists to rules. Each of the

above-mentioned approaches can make room for virtues, consequences,

and rules. Indeed, any plausible normative ethical theory

will have something to say about all three. What distinguishes virtue

ethics from consequentialism or deontology is the centrality of virtue

within the theory (Watson 1990; Kawall 2009). Whereas

consequentialists will define virtues as traits that yield good

consequences and deontologists will define them as traits possessed by

those who reliably fulfil their duties, virtue ethicists will resist

the attempt to define virtues in terms of some other concept that is

taken to be more fundamental. Rather, virtues and vices will be

foundational for virtue ethical theories and other normative notions

will be grounded in them.

We begin by discussing two concepts that are central to all forms of

virtue ethics, namely, virtue and practical wisdom. Then we note some

of the features that distinguish different virtue ethical theories

from one another before turning to objections that have been raised

against virtue ethics and responses offered on its behalf. We conclude

with a look at some of the directions in which future research might

develop.

1. Preliminaries

1.1 Virtue

1.2 Practical Wisdom

2. Forms of Virtue Ethics

2.1 Eudaimonist Virtue Ethics

2.2 Agent-Based and Exemplarist Virtue Ethics

2.3 Target-Centered Virtue Ethics

2.4 Platonistic Virtue Ethics

3. Objections to virtue ethics

4. Future Directions

Bibliography

Academic Tools

Other Internet Resources

Related Entries

1. Preliminaries

In the West, virtue ethics’ founding fathers are Plato and

Aristotle, and in the East it can be traced back to Mencius and

Confucius. It persisted as the dominant approach in Western moral

philosophy until at least the Enlightenment, suffered a momentary

eclipse during the nineteenth century, but re-emerged in

Anglo-American philosophy in the late 1950s. It was heralded by

Anscombe’s famous article “Modern Moral Philosophy”

(Anscombe 1958) which crystallized an increasing dissatisfaction with

the forms of deontology and utilitarianism then prevailing. Neither of

them, at that time, paid attention to a number of topics that had

always figured in the virtue ethics tradition—virtues and vices,

motives and moral character, moral education, moral wisdom or

discernment, friendship and family relationships, a deep concept of

happiness, the role of the emotions in our moral life and the

fundamentally important questions of what sorts of persons we should

be and how we should live.

Its re-emergence had an invigorating effect on the other two

approaches, many of whose proponents then began to address these

topics in the terms of their favoured theory. (One consequence of this

has been that it is now necessary to distinguish “virtue

ethics” (the third approach) from “virtue theory”, a

term which includes accounts of virtue within the other approaches.)

Interest in Kant’s virtue theory has redirected

philosophers’ attention to Kant’s long neglected

Doctrine of Virtue, and utilitarians have developed

consequentialist virtue theories (Driver 2001; Hurka 2001). It has

also generated virtue ethical readings of philosophers other than

Plato and Aristotle, such as Martineau, Hume and Nietzsche, and

thereby different forms of virtue ethics have developed (Slote 2001;

Swanton 2003, 2011a).

Although modern virtue ethics does not have to take a

“neo-Aristotelian” or eudaimonist form (see section 2),

almost any modern version still shows that its roots are in ancient

Greek philosophy by the employment of three concepts derived from it.

These are arête (excellence or virtue),

phronesis (practical or moral wisdom) and eudaimonia

(usually translated as happiness or flourishing). (See Annas 2011 for

a short, clear, and authoritative account of all three.) We discuss

the first two in the remainder of this section. Eudaimonia is

discussed in connection with eudaimonist versions of virtue ethics in

the next.

1.1 Virtue

A virtue is an excellent trait of character. It is a disposition, well

entrenched in its possessor—something that, as we say, goes all

the way down, unlike a habit such as being a tea-drinker—to

notice, expect, value, feel, desire, choose, act, and react in certain

characteristic ways. To possess a virtue is to be a certain sort of

person with a certain complex mindset. A significant aspect of this

mindset is the wholehearted acceptance of a distinctive range of

considerations as reasons for action. An honest person cannot be

identified simply as one who, for example, practices honest dealing

and does not cheat. If such actions are done merely because the agent

thinks that honesty is the best policy, or because they fear being

caught out, rather than through recognising “To do otherwise

would be dishonest” as the relevant reason, they are not the

actions of an honest person. An honest person cannot be identified

simply as one who, for example, tells the truth because it is

the truth, for one can have the virtue of honesty without being

tactless or indiscreet. The honest person recognises “That would

be a lie” as a strong (though perhaps not overriding) reason for

not making certain statements in certain circumstances, and gives due,

but not overriding, weight to “That would be the truth” as

a reason for making them.

An honest person’s reasons and choices with respect to honest

and dishonest actions reflect her views about honesty, truth, and

deception—but of course such views manifest themselves with

respect to other actions, and to emotional reactions as well. Valuing

honesty as she does, she chooses, where possible to work with honest

people, to have honest friends, to bring up her children to be honest.

She disapproves of, dislikes, deplores dishonesty, is not amused by

certain tales of chicanery, despises or pities those who succeed

through deception rather than thinking they have been clever, is

unsurprised, or pleased (as appropriate) when honesty triumphs, is

shocked or distressed when those near and dear to her do what is

dishonest and so on. Given that a virtue is such a multi-track

disposition, it would obviously be reckless to attribute one to an

agent on the basis of a single observed action or even a series of

similar actions, especially if you don’t know the agent’s

reasons for doing as she did (Sreenivasan 2002).

Possessing a virtue is a matter of degree. To possess such a

disposition fully is to possess full or perfect virtue, which is rare,

and there are a number of ways of falling short of this ideal

(Athanassoulis 2000). Most people who can truly be described as fairly

virtuous, and certainly markedly better than those who can truly be

described as dishonest, self-centred and greedy, still have their

blind spots—little areas where they do not act for the reasons

one would expect. So someone honest or kind in most situations, and

notably so in demanding ones, may nevertheless be trivially tainted by

snobbery, inclined to be disingenuous about their forebears and less

than kind to strangers with the wrong accent.

Further, it is not easy to get one’s emotions in harmony with

one’s rational recognition of certain reasons for action. I may

be honest enough to recognise that I must own up to a mistake because

it would be dishonest not to do so without my acceptance being so

wholehearted that I can own up easily, with no inner conflict.

Following (and adapting) Aristotle, virtue ethicists draw a

distinction between full or perfect virtue and

“continence”, or strength of will. The fully virtuous do

what they should without a struggle against contrary desires; the

continent have to control a desire or temptation to do otherwise.

Describing the continent as “falling short” of perfect

virtue appears to go against the intuition that there is something

particularly admirable about people who manage to act well when it is

especially hard for them to do so, but the plausibility of this

depends on exactly what “makes it hard” (Foot 1978:

11–14). If it is the circumstances in which the agent

acts—say that she is very poor when she sees someone drop a full

purse or that she is in deep grief when someone visits seeking

help—then indeed it is particularly admirable of her to restore

the purse or give the help when it is hard for her to do so. But if

what makes it hard is an imperfection in her character—the

temptation to keep what is not hers, or a callous indifference to the

suffering of others—then it is not.

1.2 Practical Wisdom

Another way in which one can easily fall short of full virtue is

through lacking phronesis—moral or practical

wisdom.

The concept of a virtue is the concept of something that makes its

possessor good: a virtuous person is a morally good, excellent or

admirable person who acts and feels as she should. These are commonly

accepted truisms. But it is equally common, in relation to particular

(putative) examples of virtues to give these truisms up. We may say of

someone that he is generous or honest “to a fault”. It is

commonly asserted that someone’s compassion might lead them to

act wrongly, to tell a lie they should not have told, for example, in

their desire to prevent someone else’s hurt feelings. It is also

said that courage, in a desperado, enables him to do far more wicked

things than he would have been able to do if he were timid. So it

would appear that generosity, honesty, compassion and courage despite

being virtues, are sometimes faults. Someone who is generous, honest,

compassionate, and courageous might not be a morally good

person—or, if it is still held to be a truism that they are,

then morally good people may be led by what makes them morally good to

act wrongly! How have we arrived at such an odd conclusion?

The answer lies in too ready an acceptance of ordinary usage, which

permits a fairly wide-ranging application of many of the virtue terms,

combined, perhaps, with a modern readiness to suppose that the

virtuous agent is motivated by emotion or inclination, not by rational

choice. If one thinks of generosity or honesty as the

disposition to be moved to action by generous or honest impulses such

as the desire to give or to speak the truth, if one thinks of

compassion as the disposition to be moved by the sufferings of others

and to act on that emotion, if one thinks of courage as mere

fearlessness or the willingness to face danger, then it will indeed

seem obvious that these are all dispositions that can lead to their

possessor’s acting wrongly. But it is also obvious, as soon as

it is stated, that these are dispositions that can be possessed by

children, and although children thus endowed (bar the

“courageous” disposition) would undoubtedly be very nice

children, we would not say that they were morally virtuous or

admirable people. The ordinary usage, or the reliance on motivation by

inclination, gives us what Aristotle calls “natural

virtue”—a proto version of full virtue awaiting perfection

by phronesis or practical wisdom.

Aristotle makes a number of specific remarks about phronesis

that are the subject of much scholarly debate, but the (related)

modern concept is best understood by thinking of what the virtuous

morally mature adult has that nice children, including nice

adolescents, lack. Both the virtuous adult and the nice child have

good intentions, but the child is much more prone to mess things up

because he is ignorant of what he needs to know in order to do what he

intends. A virtuous adult is not, of course, infallible and may also,

on occasion, fail to do what she intended to do through lack of

knowledge, but only on those occasions on which the lack of knowledge

is not culpable. So, for example, children and adolescents often harm

those they intend to benefit either because they do not know how to

set about securing the benefit or because their understanding of what

is beneficial and harmful is limited and often mistaken. Such

ignorance in small children is rarely, if ever culpable. Adults, on

the other hand, are culpable if they mess things up by being

thoughtless, insensitive, reckless, impulsive, shortsighted, and by

assuming that what suits them will suit everyone instead of taking a

more objective viewpoint. They are also culpable if their

understanding of what is beneficial and harmful is mistaken. It is

part of practical wisdom to know how to secure real benefits

effectively; those who have practical wisdom will not make the mistake

of concealing the hurtful truth from the person who really needs to

know it in the belief that they are benefiting him.

Quite generally, given that good intentions are intentions to act well

or “do the right thing”, we may say that practical wisdom

is the knowledge or understanding that enables its possessor, unlike

the nice adolescents, to do just that, in any given situation. The

detailed specification of what is involved in such knowledge or

understanding has not yet appeared in the literature, but some aspects

of it are becoming well known. Even many deontologists now stress the

point that their action-guiding rules cannot, reliably, be applied

without practical wisdom, because correct application requires

situational appreciation—the capacity to recognise, in any

particular situation, those features of it that are morally salient.

This brings out two aspects of practical wisdom.

One is that it characteristically comes only with experience of life.

Amongst the morally relevant features of a situation may be the likely

consequences, for the people involved, of a certain action, and this

is something that adolescents are notoriously clueless about precisely

because they are inexperienced. It is part of practical wisdom to be

wise about human beings and human life. (It should go without saying

that the virtuous are mindful of the consequences of possible actions.

How could they fail to be reckless, thoughtless and short-sighted if

they were not?)

The second is the practically wise agent’s capacity to recognise

some features of a situation as more important than others, or indeed,

in that situation, as the only relevant ones. The wise do not see

things in the same way as the nice adolescents who, with their

under-developed virtues, still tend to see the personally

disadvantageous nature of a certain action as competing in importance

with its honesty or benevolence or justice.

These aspects coalesce in the description of the practically wise as

those who understand what is truly worthwhile, truly important, and

thereby truly advantageous in life, who know, in short, how to live

well.

2. Forms of Virtue Ethics

While all forms of virtue ethics agree that virtue is central and

practical wisdom required, they differ in how they combine these and

other concepts to illuminate what we should do in particular contexts

and how we should live our lives as a whole. In what follows we sketch

four distinct forms taken by contemporary virtue ethics, namely, a)

eudaimonist virtue ethics, b) agent-based and exemplarist virtue

ethics, c) target-centered virtue ethics, and d) Platonistic virtue

ethics.

2.1 Eudaimonist Virtue Ethics

The distinctive feature of eudaimonist versions of virtue ethics is

that they define virtues in terms of their relationship to

eudaimonia. A virtue is a trait that contributes to or is a

constituent of eudaimonia and we ought to develop virtues,

the eudaimonist claims, precisely because they contribute to

eudaimonia.

The concept of eudaimonia, a key term in ancient Greek moral

philosophy, is standardly translated as “happiness” or

“flourishing” and occasionally as

“well-being.” Each translation has its disadvantages. The

trouble with “flourishing” is that animals and even plants

can flourish but eudaimonia is possible only for rational

beings. The trouble with “happiness” is that in ordinary

conversation it connotes something subjectively determined. It is for

me, not for you, to pronounce on whether I am happy. If I think I am

happy then I am—it is not something I can be wrong about

(barring advanced cases of self-deception). Contrast my being healthy

or flourishing. Here we have no difficulty in recognizing that I might

think I was healthy, either physically or psychologically, or think

that I was flourishing but be wrong. In this respect,

“flourishing” is a better translation than

“happiness”. It is all too easy to be mistaken about

whether one’s life is eudaimon (the adjective from

eudaimonia) not simply because it is easy to deceive oneself,

but because it is easy to have a mistaken conception of

eudaimonia, or of what it is to live well as a human being,

believing it to consist largely in physical pleasure or luxury for

example.

Eudaimonia is, avowedly, a moralized or value-laden concept

of happiness, something like “true” or “real”

happiness or “the sort of happiness worth seeking or

having.” It is thereby the sort of concept about which there can

be substantial disagreement between people with different views about

human life that cannot be resolved by appeal to some external standard

on which, despite their different views, the parties to the

disagreement concur (Hursthouse 1999: 188–189).

Most versions of virtue ethics agree that living a life in accordance

with virtue is necessary for eudaimonia. This supreme good is

not conceived of as an independently defined state (made up of, say, a

list of non-moral goods that does not include virtuous activity) which

exercise of the virtues might be thought to promote. It is, within

virtue ethics, already conceived of as something of which virtuous

activity is at least partially constitutive (Kraut 1989). Thereby

virtue ethicists claim that a human life devoted to physical pleasure

or the acquisition of wealth is not eudaimon, but a wasted

life.

But although all standard versions of virtue ethics insist on that

conceptual link between virtue and eudaimonia,

further links are matters of dispute and generate different versions.

For Aristotle, virtue is necessary but not sufficient—what is

also needed are external goods which are a matter of luck. For Plato

and the Stoics, virtue is both necessary and sufficient for

eudaimonia (Annas 1993).

According to eudaimonist virtue ethics, the good life is the

eudaimon life, and the virtues are what enable a human being

to be eudaimon because the virtues just are those character

traits that benefit their possessor in that way, barring bad luck. So

there is a link between eudaimonia and what confers virtue

status on a character trait. (For a discussion of the differences

between eudaimonists see Baril 2014. For recent defenses of

eudaimonism see Annas 2011; LeBar 2013b; Badhwar 2014; and Bloomfield

2014.)

2.2 Agent-Based and Exemplarist Virtue Ethics

Rather than deriving the normativity of virtue from the value of

eudaimonia, agent-based virtue ethicists argue that other

forms of normativity—including the value of

eudaimonia—are traced back to and ultimately explained

in terms of the motivational and dispositional qualities of

agents.

It is unclear how many other forms of normativity must be explained in

terms of the qualities of agents in order for a theory to count as

agent-based. The two best-known agent-based theorists, Michael Slote

and Linda Zagzebski, trace a wide range of normative qualities back to

the qualities of agents. For example, Slote defines rightness and

wrongness in terms of agents’ motivations: “[A]gent-based

virtue ethics … understands rightness in terms of good

motivations and wrongness in terms of the having of bad (or

insufficiently good) motives” (2001: 14). Similarly, he explains

the goodness of an action, the value of eudaimonia, the

justice of a law or social institution, and the normativity of

practical rationality in terms of the motivational and dispositional

qualities of agents (2001: 99–100, 154, 2000). Zagzebski

likewise defines right and wrong actions by reference to the emotions,

motives, and dispositions of virtuous and vicious agents. For example,

“A wrong act = an act that the phronimos

characteristically would not do, and he would feel guilty if he did =

an act such that it is not the case that he might do it = an act that

expresses a vice = an act that is against a requirement of virtue (the

virtuous self)” (Zagzebski 2004: 160). Her definitions of

duties, good and bad ends, and good and bad states of affairs are

similarly grounded in the motivational and dispositional states of

exemplary agents (1998, 2004, 2010).

However, there could also be less ambitious agent-based approaches to

virtue ethics (see Slote 1997). At the very least, an agent-based

approach must be committed to explaining what one should do by

reference to the motivational and dispositional states of agents. But

this is not yet a sufficient condition for counting as an agent-based

approach, since the same condition will be met by every

virtue ethical account. For a theory to count as an agent-based form

of virtue ethics it must also be the case that the normative

properties of motivations and dispositions cannot be explained in

terms of the normative properties of something else (such as

eudaimonia or states of affairs) which is taken to be more

fundamental.

Beyond this basic commitment, there is room for agent-based theories

to be developed in a number of different directions. The most

important distinguishing factor has to do with how motivations and

dispositions are taken to matter for the purposes of explaining other

normative qualities. For Slote what matters are this particular

agent’s actual motives and dispositions. The goodness of

action A, for example, is derived from the agent’s motives when

she performs A. If those motives are good then the action is good, if

not then not. On Zagzebski’s account, by contrast, a good or

bad, right or wrong action is defined not by this agent’s actual

motives but rather by whether this is the sort of action a virtuously

motivated agent would perform (Zagzebski 2004: 160). Appeal to the

virtuous agent’s hypothetical motives and dispositions

enables Zagzebski to distinguish between performing the right action

and doing so for the right reasons (a distinction that, as Brady

(2004) observes, Slote has trouble drawing).

Another point on which agent-based forms of virtue ethics might differ

concerns how one identifies virtuous motivations and dispositions.

According to Zagzebski’s exemplarist account, “We do not

have criteria for goodness in advance of identifying the exemplars of

goodness” (Zagzebski 2004: 41). As we observe the people around

us, we find ourselves wanting to be like some of them (in at least

some respects) and not wanting to be like others. The former provide

us with positive exemplars and the latter with negative ones. Our

understanding of better and worse motivations and virtuous and vicious

dispositions is grounded in these primitive responses to exemplars

(2004: 53). This is not to say that every time we act we stop and ask

ourselves what one of our exemplars would do in this situations. Our

moral concepts become more refined over time as we encounter a wider

variety of exemplars and begin to draw systematic connections between

them, noting what they have in common, how they differ, and which of

these commonalities and differences matter, morally speaking.

Recognizable motivational profiles emerge and come to be labeled as

virtues or vices, and these, in turn, shape our understanding of the

obligations we have and the ends we should pursue. However, even

though the systematising of moral thought can travel a long way from

our starting point, according to the exemplarist it never reaches a

stage where reference to exemplars is replaced by the recognition of

something more fundamental. At the end of the day, according to the

exemplarist, our moral system still rests on our basic propensity to

take a liking (or disliking) to exemplars. Nevertheless, one could be

an agent-based theorist without advancing the exemplarist’s

account of the origins or reference conditions for judgments of good

and bad, virtuous and vicious.

2.3 Target-Centered Virtue Ethics

The touchstone for eudaimonist virtue ethicists is a flourishing human

life. For agent-based virtue ethicists it is an exemplary

agent’s motivations. The target-centered view developed by

Christine Swanton (2003), by contrast, begins with our existing

conceptions of the virtues. We already have a passable idea of which

traits are virtues and what they involve. Of course, this untutored

understanding can be clarified and improved, and it is one of the

tasks of the virtue ethicist to help us do precisely that. But rather

than stripping things back to something as basic as the motivations we

want to imitate or building it up to something as elaborate as an

entire flourishing life, the target-centered view begins where most

ethics students find themselves, namely, with the idea that

generosity, courage, self-discipline, compassion, and the like get a

tick of approval. It then examines what these traits involve.

A complete account of virtue will map out 1) its field, 2)

its mode of responsiveness, 3) its basis of moral

acknowledgment, and 4) its target. Different virtues are

concerned with different fields. Courage, for example, is

concerned with what might harm us, whereas generosity is concerned

with the sharing of time, talent, and property. The basis of

acknowledgment of a virtue is the feature within the virtue’s

field to which it responds. To continue with our previous examples,

generosity is attentive to the benefits that others might enjoy

through one’s agency, and courage responds to threats to value,

status, or the bonds that exist between oneself and particular others,

and the fear such threats might generate. A virtue’s

mode has to do with how it responds to the bases of

acknowledgment within its field. Generosity promotes a good,

namely, another’s benefit, whereas courage defends a

value, bond, or status. Finally, a virtue’s target is

that at which it is aimed. Courage aims to control fear and handle

danger, while generosity aims to share time, talents, or possessions

with others in ways that benefit them.

A virtue, on a target-centered account, “is a

disposition to respond to, or acknowledge, items within its field or

fields in an excellent or good enough way” (Swanton 2003: 19). A

virtuous act is an act that hits the target of a virtue,

which is to say that it succeeds in responding to items in its field

in the specified way (233). Providing a target-centered definition of

a right action requires us to move beyond the analysis of a

single virtue and the actions that follow from it. This is because a

single action context may involve a number of different, overlapping

fields. Determination might lead me to persist in trying to complete a

difficult task even if doing so requires a singleness of purpose. But

love for my family might make a different use of my time and

attention. In order to define right action a target-centered view must

explain how we handle different virtues’ conflicting claims on

our resources. There are at least three different ways to address this

challenge. A perfectionist target-centered account would

stipulate, “An act is right if and only if it is overall

virtuous, and that entails that it is the, or a, best action possible

in the circumstances” (239–240). A more

permissive target-centered account would not identify

‘right’ with ‘best’, but would allow an action

to count as right provided “it is good enough even if not the

(or a) best action” (240). A minimalist target-centered

account would not even require an action to be good in order to be

right. On such a view, “An act is right if and only if it is not

overall vicious” (240). (For further discussion of

target-centered virtue ethics see Van Zyl 2014; and Smith 2016).

2.4 Platonistic Virtue Ethics

The fourth form a virtue ethic might adopt takes its inspiration from

Plato. The Socrates of Plato’s dialogues devotes a great deal of

time to asking his fellow Athenians to explain the nature of virtues

like justice, courage, piety, and wisdom. So it is clear that Plato

counts as a virtue theorist. But it is a matter of some debate whether

he should be read as a virtue ethicist (White 2015). What is not open

to debate is whether Plato has had an important influence on the

contemporary revival of interest in virtue ethics. A number of those

who have contributed to the revival have done so as Plato scholars

(e.g., Prior 1991; Kamtekar 1998; Annas 1999; and Reshotko 2006).

However, often they have ended up championing a eudaimonist version of

virtue ethics (see Prior 2001 and Annas 2011), rather than a version

that would warrant a separate classification. Nevertheless, there are

two variants that call for distinct treatment.

Timothy Chappell takes the defining feature of Platonistic virtue

ethics to be that “Good agency in the truest and fullest sense

presupposes the contemplation of the Form of the Good” (2014).

Chappell follows Iris Murdoch in arguing that “In the moral life

the enemy is the fat relentless ego” (Murdoch 1971: 51).

Constantly attending to our needs, our desires, our passions, and our

thoughts skews our perspective on what the world is actually like and

blinds us to the goods around us. Contemplating the goodness of

something we encounter—which is to say, carefully attending to

it “for its own sake, in order to understand it” (Chappell

2014: 300)—breaks this natural tendency by drawing our attention

away from ourselves. Contemplating such goodness with regularity makes

room for new habits of thought that focus more readily and more

honestly on things other than the self. It alters the quality of our

consciousness. And “anything which alters consciousness in the

direction of unselfishness, objectivity, and realism is to be

connected with virtue” (Murdoch 1971: 82). The virtues get

defined, then, in terms of qualities that help one “pierce the

veil of selfish consciousness and join the world as it really

is” (91). And good agency is defined by the possession and

exercise of such virtues. Within Chappell’s and Murdoch’s

framework, then, not all normative properties get defined in terms of

virtue. Goodness, in particular, is not so defined. But the kind of

goodness which is possible for creatures like us is defined by virtue,

and any answer to the question of what one should do or how one should

live will appeal to the virtues.

Another Platonistic variant of virtue ethics is exemplified by Robert

Merrihew Adams. Unlike Murdoch and Chappell, his starting point is not

a set of claims about our consciousness of goodness. Rather, he begins

with an account of the metaphysics of goodness. Like Murdoch and

others influenced by Platonism, Adams’s account of goodness is

built around a conception of a supremely perfect good. And like

Augustine, Adams takes that perfect good to be God. God is both the

exemplification and the source of all goodness. Other things are good,

he suggests, to the extent that they resemble God (Adams 1999).

The resemblance requirement identifies a necessary condition for being

good, but it does not yet give us a sufficient condition. This is

because there are ways in which finite creatures might resemble God

that would not be suitable to the type of creature they are. For

example, if God were all-knowing, then the belief, “I am

all-knowing,” would be a suitable belief for God to have. In

God, such a belief—because true—would be part of

God’s perfection. However, as neither you nor I are all-knowing,

the belief, “I am all-knowing,” in one of us would not be

good. To rule out such cases we need to introduce another factor. That

factor is the fitting response to goodness, which Adams suggests is

love. Adams uses love to weed out problematic resemblances:

“being excellent in the way that a finite thing can be consists

in resembling God in a way that could serve God as a reason for loving

the thing” (Adams 1999: 36).

Virtues come into the account as one of the ways in which some things

(namely, persons) could resemble God. “[M]ost of the excellences

that are most important to us, and of whose value we are most

confident, are excellences of persons or of qualities or actions or

works or lives or stories of persons” (1999: 42). This is one of

the reasons Adams offers for conceiving of the ideal of perfection as

a personal God, rather than an impersonal form of the Good. Many of

the excellences of persons of which we are most confident are virtues

such as love, wisdom, justice, patience, and generosity. And within

many theistic traditions, including Adams’s own Christian

tradition, such virtues are commonly attributed to divine agents.

A Platonistic account like the one Adams puts forward in Finite

and Infinite Goods clearly does not derive all other normative

properties from the virtues (for a discussion of the relationship

between this view and the one he puts forward in A Theory of

Virtue (2006) see Pettigrove 2014). Goodness provides the

normative foundation. Virtues are not built on that foundation;

rather, as one of the varieties of goodness of whose value we are most

confident, virtues form part of the foundation. Obligations, by

contrast, come into the account at a different level. Moral

obligations, Adams argues, are determined by the expectations and

demands that “arise in a relationship or system of relationships

that is good or valuable” (1999: 244). Other things being equal,

the more virtuous the parties to the relationship, the more binding

the obligation. Thus, within Adams’s account, the good (which

includes virtue) is prior to the right. However, once good

relationships have given rise to obligations, those obligations take

on a life of their own. Their bindingness is not traced directly to

considerations of goodness. Rather, they are determined by the

expectations of the parties and the demands of the relationship.

3. Objections to virtue ethics

A number of objections have been raised against virtue ethics, some of

which bear more directly on one form of virtue ethics than on others.

In this section we consider eight objections, namely, the a)

application, b) adequacy, c) relativism, d) conflict, e)

self-effacement, f) justification, g) egoism, and h) situationist

problems.

a) In the early days of virtue ethics’ revival, the approach was

associated with an “anti-codifiability” thesis about

ethics, directed against the prevailing pretensions of normative

theory. At the time, utilitarians and deontologists commonly (though

not universally) held that the task of ethical theory was to come up

with a code consisting of universal rules or principles (possibly only

one, as in the case of act-utilitarianism) which would have two

significant features: i) the rule(s) would amount to a decision

procedure for determining what the right action was in any particular

case; ii) the rule(s) would be stated in such terms that any

non-virtuous person could understand and apply it (them)

correctly.

Virtue ethicists maintained, contrary to these two claims, that it was

quite unrealistic to imagine that there could be such a code (see, in

particular, McDowell 1979). The results of attempts to produce and

employ such a code, in the heady days of the 1960s and 1970s, when

medical and then bioethics boomed and bloomed, tended to support the

virtue ethicists’ claim. More and more utilitarians and

deontologists found themselves agreed on their general rules but on

opposite sides of the controversial moral issues in contemporary

discussion. It came to be recognised that moral sensitivity,

perception, imagination, and judgement informed by

experience—phronesis in short—is needed to apply

rules or principles correctly. Hence many (though by no means all)

utilitarians and deontologists have explicitly abandoned (ii) and much

less emphasis is placed on (i).

Nevertheless, the complaint that virtue ethics does not produce

codifiable principles is still a commonly voiced criticism of the

approach, expressed as the objection that it is, in principle, unable

to provide action-guidance.

Initially, the objection was based on a misunderstanding. Blinkered by

slogans that described virtue ethics as “concerned with Being

rather than Doing,” as addressing “What sort of

person should I be?” but not “What should I do?” as

being “agent-centered rather than act-centered,” its

critics maintained that it was unable to provide

action-guidance. Hence, rather than being a normative rival to

utilitarian and deontological ethics, it could claim to be no more

than a valuable supplement to them. The rather odd idea was that all

virtue ethics could offer was, “Identify a moral exemplar and do

what he would do,” as though the university student trying

to decide whether to study music (her preference) or engineering (her

parents’ preference) was supposed to ask herself, “What

would Socrates study if he were in my circumstances?”

But the objection failed to take note of Anscombe’s hint that a

great deal of specific action guidance could be found in rules

employing the virtue and vice terms (“v-rules”) such as

“Do what is honest/charitable; do not do what is

dishonest/uncharitable” (Hursthouse 1999). (It is a noteworthy

feature of our virtue and vice vocabulary that, although our list of

generally recognised virtue terms is comparatively short, our list of

vice terms is remarkably, and usefully, long, far exceeding anything

that anyone who thinks in terms of standard deontological rules has

ever come up with. Much invaluable action guidance comes from avoiding

courses of action that would be irresponsible, feckless, lazy,

inconsiderate, uncooperative, harsh, intolerant, selfish, mercenary,

indiscreet, tactless, arrogant, unsympathetic, cold, incautious,

unenterprising, pusillanimous, feeble, presumptuous, rude,

hypocritical, self-indulgent, materialistic, grasping, short-sighted,

vindictive, calculating, ungrateful, grudging, brutal, profligate,

disloyal, and on and on.)

(b) A closely related objection has to do with whether virtue ethics

can provide an adequate account of right action. This worry can take

two forms. (i) One might think a virtue ethical account of right

action is extensionally inadequate. It is possible to perform a right

action without being virtuous and a virtuous person can occasionally

perform the wrong action without that calling her virtue into

question. If virtue is neither necessary nor sufficient for right

action, one might wonder whether the relationship between

rightness/wrongness and virtue/vice is close enough for the former to

be identified in terms of the latter. (ii) Alternatively, even if one

thought it possible to produce a virtue ethical account that picked

out all (and only) right actions, one might still think that at least

in some cases virtue is not what explains rightness (Adams

2006:6–8).

Some virtue ethicists respond to the adequacy objection by rejecting

the assumption that virtue ethics ought to be in the business of

providing an account of right action in the first place. Following in

the footsteps of Anscombe (1958) and MacIntyre (1985), Talbot Brewer

(2009) argues that to work with the categories of rightness and

wrongness is already to get off on the wrong foot. Contemporary

conceptions of right and wrong action, built as they are around a

notion of moral duty that presupposes a framework of divine (or moral)

law or around a conception of obligation that is defined in contrast

to self-interest, carry baggage the virtue ethicist is better off

without. Virtue ethics can address the questions of how one should

live, what kind of person one should become, and even what one should

do without that committing it to providing an account of ‘right

action’. One might choose, instead, to work with aretaic

concepts (defined in terms of virtues and vices) and axiological

concepts (defined in terms of good and bad, better and worse) and

leave out deontic notions (like right/wrong action, duty, and

obligation) altogether.

Other virtue ethicists wish to retain the concept of right action but

note that in the current philosophical discussion a number of distinct

qualities march under that banner. In some contexts, ‘right

action’ identifies the best action an agent might perform in the

circumstances. In others, it designates an action that is commendable

(even if not the best possible). In still others, it picks out actions

that are not blameworthy (even if not commendable). A virtue ethicist

might choose to define one of these—for example, the best

action—in terms of virtues and vices, but appeal to other

normative concepts—such as legitimate expectations—when

defining other conceptions of right action.

As we observed in section 2, a virtue ethical account need not attempt

to reduce all other normative concepts to virtues and vices.

What is required is simply (i) that virtue is not reduced to

some other normative concept that is taken to be more fundamental and

(ii) that some other normative concepts are explained in

terms of virtue and vice. This takes the sting out of the adequacy

objection, which is most compelling against versions of virtue ethics

that attempt to define all of the senses of ‘right action’

in terms of virtues. Appealing to virtues and vices makes it

much easier to achieve extensional adequacy. Making room for normative

concepts that are not taken to be reducible to virtue and vice

concepts makes it even easier to generate a theory that is both

extensionally and explanatorily adequate. Whether one needs other

concepts and, if so, how many, is still a matter of debate among

virtue ethicists, as is the question of whether virtue ethics even

ought to be offering an account of right action. Either way virtue

ethicists have resources available to them to address the adequacy

objection.

Insofar as the different versions of virtue ethics all retain an

emphasis on the virtues, they are open to the familiar problem of (c)

the charge of cultural relativity. Is it not the case that different

cultures embody different virtues, (MacIntyre 1985) and hence that the

v-rules will pick out actions as right or wrong only relative to a

particular culture? Different replies have been made to this charge.

One—the tu quoque, or “partners in crime”

response—exhibits a quite familiar pattern in virtue

ethicists’ defensive strategy (Solomon 1988). They admit that,

for them, cultural relativism is a challenge, but point out

that it is just as much a problem for the other two approaches. The

(putative) cultural variation in character traits regarded as virtues

is no greater—indeed markedly less—than the cultural

variation in rules of conduct, and different cultures have different

ideas about what constitutes happiness or welfare. That cultural

relativity should be a problem common to all three approaches is

hardly surprising. It is related, after all, to the

“justification problem”

(see below)

the quite general metaethical problem of justifying one’s moral

beliefs to those who disagree, whether they be moral sceptics,

pluralists or from another culture.

A bolder strategy involves claiming that virtue ethics has less

difficulty with cultural relativity than the other two approaches.

Much cultural disagreement arises, it may be claimed, from local

understandings of the virtues, but the virtues themselves are not

relative to culture (Nussbaum 1993).

Another objection to which the tu quoque response is

partially appropriate is (d) “the conflict problem.” What

does virtue ethics have to say about dilemmas—cases in which,

apparently, the requirements of different virtues conflict because

they point in opposed directions? Charity prompts me to kill the

person who would be better off dead, but justice forbids it. Honesty

points to telling the hurtful truth, kindness and compassion to

remaining silent or even lying. What shall I do? Of course, the same

sorts of dilemmas are generated by conflicts between deontological

rules. Deontology and virtue ethics share the conflict problem (and

are happy to take it on board rather than follow some of the

utilitarians in their consequentialist resolutions of such dilemmas)

and in fact their strategies for responding to it are parallel. Both

aim to resolve a number of dilemmas by arguing that the conflict is

merely apparent; a discriminating understanding of the virtues or

rules in question, possessed only by those with practical wisdom, will

perceive that, in this particular case, the virtues do not make

opposing demands or that one rule outranks another, or has a certain

exception clause built into it. Whether this is all there is to it

depends on whether there are any irresolvable dilemmas. If there are,

proponents of either normative approach may point out reasonably that

it could only be a mistake to offer a resolution of what is, ex

hypothesi, irresolvable.

Another problem arguably shared by all three approaches is (e), that

of being self-effacing. An ethical theory is self-effacing if,

roughly, whatever it claims justifies a particular action, or makes it

right, had better not be the agent’s motive for doing it.

Michael Stocker (1976) originally introduced it as a problem for

deontology and consequentialism. He pointed out that the agent who,

rightly, visits a friend in hospital will rather lessen the impact of

his visit on her if he tells her either that he is doing it because it

is his duty or because he thought it would maximize the general

happiness. But as Simon Keller observes, she won’t be any better

pleased if he tells her that he is visiting her because it is what a

virtuous agent would do, so virtue ethics would appear to have the

problem too (Keller 2007). However, virtue ethics’ defenders

have argued that not all forms of virtue ethics are subject to this

objection (Pettigrove 2011) and those that are are not seriously

undermined by the problem (Martinez 2011).

Another problem for virtue ethics, which is shared by both

utilitarianism and deontology, is (f)

“the justification problem.”

Abstractly conceived, this is the problem of how we justify or ground

our ethical beliefs, an issue that is hotly debated at the level of

metaethics. In its particular versions, for deontology there is the

question of how to justify its claims that certain moral rules are the

correct ones, and for utilitarianism of how to justify its claim that

all that really matters morally are consequences for happiness or

well-being. For virtue ethics, the problem concerns the question of

which character traits are the virtues.

In the metaethical debate, there is widespread disagreement about the

possibility of providing an external foundation for

ethics—“external” in the sense of being external to

ethical beliefs—and the same disagreement is found amongst

deontologists and utilitarians. Some believe that their normative

ethics can be placed on a secure basis, resistant to any form of

scepticism, such as what anyone rationally desires, or would accept or

agree on, regardless of their ethical outlook; others that it

cannot.

Virtue ethicists have eschewed any attempt to ground virtue ethics in

an external foundation while continuing to maintain that their claims

can be validated. Some follow a form of Rawls’s coherentist

approach (Slote 2001; Swanton 2003); neo-Aristotelians a form of

ethical naturalism.

A misunderstanding of eudaimonia as an unmoralized concept

leads some critics to suppose that the neo-Aristotelians are

attempting to ground their claims in a scientific account of human

nature and what counts, for a human being, as flourishing. Others

assume that, if this is not what they are doing, they cannot be

validating their claims that, for example, justice, charity, courage,

and generosity are virtues. Either they are illegitimately helping

themselves to Aristotle’s discredited natural teleology

(Williams 1985) or producing mere rationalizations of their own

personal or culturally inculcated values. But McDowell, Foot,

MacIntyre and Hursthouse have all outlined versions of a third way

between these two extremes. Eudaimonia in virtue ethics, is

indeed a moralized concept, but it is not only that. Claims about what

constitutes flourishing for human beings no more float free of

scientific facts about what human beings are like than ethological

claims about what constitutes flourishing for elephants. In both

cases, the truth of the claims depends in part on what kind

of animal they are and what capacities, desires and interests the

humans or elephants have.

The best available science today (including evolutionary theory and

psychology) supports rather than undermines the ancient Greek

assumption that we are social animals, like elephants and wolves and

unlike polar bears. No rationalizing explanation in terms of anything

like a social contract is needed to explain why we choose to live

together, subjugating our egoistic desires in order to secure the

advantages of co-operation. Like other social animals, our natural

impulses are not solely directed towards our own pleasures and

preservation, but include altruistic and cooperative ones.

This basic fact about us should make more comprehensible the claim

that the virtues are at least partially constitutive of human

flourishing and also undercut the objection that virtue ethics is, in

some sense, egoistic.

(g) The egoism objection has a number of sources. One is a simple

confusion. Once it is understood that the fully virtuous agent

characteristically does what she should without inner conflict, it is

triumphantly asserted that “she is only doing what she

wants to do and hence is being selfish.” So when the

generous person gives gladly, as the generous are wont to do, it turns

out she is not generous and unselfish after all, or at least not as

generous as the one who greedily wants to hang on to everything she

has but forces herself to give because she thinks she should! A

related version ascribes bizarre reasons to the virtuous agent,

unjustifiably assuming that she acts as she does because she

believes that acting thus on this occasion will help her to achieve

eudaimonia. But “the virtuous agent” is just

“the agent with the virtues” and it is part of our

ordinary understanding of the virtue terms that each carries with it

its own typical range of reasons for acting. The virtuous agent acts

as she does because she believes that someone’s suffering will

be averted, or someone benefited, or the truth established, or a debt

repaid, or … thereby.

It is the exercise of the virtues during one’s life that is held

to be at least partially constitutive of eudaimonia, and this

is consistent with recognising that bad luck may land the virtuous

agent in circumstances that require her to give up her life. Given the

sorts of considerations that courageous, honest, loyal, charitable

people wholeheartedly recognise as reasons for action, they may find

themselves compelled to face danger for a worthwhile end, to speak out

in someone’s defence, or refuse to reveal the names of their

comrades, even when they know that this will inevitably lead to their

execution, to share their last crust and face starvation. On the view

that the exercise of the virtues is necessary but not sufficient for

eudaimonia, such cases are described as those in which the

virtuous agent sees that, as things have unfortunately turned out,

eudaimonia is not possible for them (Foot 2001, 95). On the

Stoical view that it is both necessary and sufficient, a

eudaimon life is a life that has been successfully lived

(where “success” of course is not to be understood in a

materialistic way) and such people die knowing not only that they have

made a success of their lives but that they have also brought their

lives to a markedly successful completion. Either way, such heroic

acts can hardly be regarded as egoistic.

A lingering suggestion of egoism may be found in the misconceived

distinction between so-called “self-regarding” and

“other-regarding” virtues. Those who have been insulated

from the ancient tradition tend to regard justice and benevolence as

real virtues, which benefit others but not their possessor, and

prudence, fortitude and providence (the virtue whose opposite is

“improvidence” or being a spendthrift) as not real virtues

at all because they benefit only their possessor. This is a mistake on

two counts. Firstly, justice and benevolence do, in general, benefit

their possessors, since without them eudaimonia is not

possible. Secondly, given that we live together, as social animals,

the “self-regarding” virtues do benefit others—those

who lack them are a great drain on, and sometimes grief to, those who

are close to them (as parents with improvident or imprudent adult

offspring know only too well).

The most recent objection (h) to virtue ethics claims that work in

“situationist” social psychology shows that there are no

such things as character traits and thereby no such things as virtues

for virtue ethics to be about (Doris 1998; Harman 1999). In reply,

some virtue ethicists have argued that the social psychologists’

studies are irrelevant to the multi-track disposition (see above) that

a virtue is supposed to be (Sreenivasan 2002; Kamtekar 2004). Mindful

of just how multi-track it is, they agree that it would be reckless in

the extreme to ascribe a demanding virtue such as charity to people of

whom they know no more than that they have exhibited conventional

decency; this would indeed be “a fundamental attribution

error.” Others have worked to develop alternative, empirically

grounded conceptions of character traits (Snow 2010; Miller 2013 and

2014; however see Upton 2016 for objections to Miller). There have

been other responses as well (summarized helpfully in Prinz 2009 and

Miller 2014). Notable among these is a response by Adams (2006,

echoing Merritt 2000) who steers a middle road between “no

character traits at all” and the exacting standard of the

Aristotelian conception of virtue which, because of its emphasis on

phronesis, requires a high level of character integration. On his

conception, character traits may be “frail and

fragmentary” but still virtues, and not uncommon. But giving up

the idea that practical wisdom is the heart of all the virtues, as

Adams has to do, is a substantial sacrifice, as Russell (2009) and

Kamtekar (2010) argue.

Even though the “situationist challenge” has left

traditional virtue ethicists unmoved, it has generated a healthy

engagement with empirical psychological literature, which has also

been fuelled by the growing literature on Foot’s Natural

Goodness and, quite independently, an upsurge of interest in

character education (see below).

4. Future Directions

Over the past thirty-five years most of those contributing to the

revival of virtue ethics have worked within a neo-Aristotelian,

eudaimonist framework. However, as noted in section 2, other forms of

virtue ethics have begun to emerge. Theorists have begun to turn to

philosophers like Hutcheson, Hume, Nietzsche, Martineau, and Heidegger

for resources they might use to develop alternatives (see Russell

2006; Swanton 2013 and 2015; Taylor 2015; and Harcourt 2015). Others

have turned their attention eastward, exploring Confucian, Buddhist,

and Hindu traditions (Yu 2007; Slingerland 2011; Finnigan and Tanaka

2011; McRae 2012; Angle and Slote 2013; Davis 2014; Flanagan 2015;

Perrett and Pettigrove 2015; and Sim 2015). These explorations promise

to open up new avenues for the development of virtue ethics.

Although virtue ethics has grown remarkably in the last thirty-five

years, it is still very much in the minority, particularly in the area

of applied ethics. Many editors of big textbook collections on

“moral problems” or “applied ethics” now try

to include articles representative of each of the three normative

approaches but are often unable to find a virtue ethics article

addressing a particular issue. This is sometimes, no doubt, because

“the” issue has been set up as a

deontologicial/utilitarian debate, but it is often simply because no

virtue ethicist has yet written on the topic. However, the last decade

has seen an increase in the amount of attention applied virtue ethics

has received (Walker and Ivanhoe 2007; Hartman 2013; Austin 2014; Van

Hooft 2014; and Annas 2015). This area can certainly be expected to

grow in the future, and it looks as though applying virtue ethics in

the field of environmental ethics may prove particularly fruitful

(Sandler 2007; Hursthouse 2007, 2011; Zwolinski and Schmidtz 2013;

Cafaro 2015).

Whether virtue ethics can be expected to grow into “virtue

politics”—i.e. to extend from moral philosophy into

political philosophy—is not so clear. Gisela Striker (2006) has

argued that Aristotle’s ethics cannot be understood adequately

without attending to its place in his politics. That suggests that at

least those virtue ethicists who take their inspiration from Aristotle

should have resources to offer for the development of virtue politics.

But, while Plato and Aristotle can be great inspirations as far as

virtue ethics is concerned, neither, on the face of it, are attractive

sources of insight where politics is concerned. However, recent work

suggests that Aristotelian ideas can, after all, generate a

satisfyingly liberal political philosophy (Nussbaum 2006; LeBar

2013a). Moreover, as noted above, virtue ethics does not have to be

neo-Aristotelian. It may be that the virtue ethics of Hutcheson and

Hume can be naturally extended into a modern political philosophy

(Hursthouse 1990–91; Slote 1993).

Following Plato and Aristotle, modern virtue ethics has always

emphasised the importance of moral education, not as the inculcation

of rules but as the training of character. There is now a growing

movement towards virtues education, amongst both academics (Carr 1999;

Athanassoulis 2014; Curren 2015) and teachers in the classroom. One

exciting thing about research in this area is its engagement with

other academic disciplines, including psychology, educational theory,

and theology (see Cline 2015; and Snow 2015).

Finally, one of the more productive developments of virtue ethics has

come through the study of particular virtues and vices. There are now

a number of careful studies of the cardinal virtues and capital vices

(Pieper 1966; Taylor 2006; Curzer 2012; Timpe and Boyd 2014). Others

have explored less widely discussed virtues or vices, such as

civility, decency, truthfulness, ambition, and meekness (Calhoun 2000;

Kekes 2002; Williams 2002; and Pettigrove 2007 and 2012). One of the

questions these studies raise is “How many virtues are

there?” A second is, “How are these virtues related to one

another?” Some virtue ethicists have been happy to work on the

assumption that there is no principled reason for limiting the number

of virtues and plenty of reason for positing a plurality of them

(Swanton 2003; Battaly 2015). Others have been concerned that such an

open-handed approach to the virtues will make it difficult for virtue

ethicists to come up with an adequate account of right action or deal

with the conflict problem discussed above. Dan Russell has proposed

cardinality and a version of the unity thesis as a solution to what he

calls “the enumeration problem” (the problem of too many

virtues). The apparent proliferation of virtues can be significantly

reduced if we group virtues together with some being cardinal and

others subordinate extensions of those cardinal virtues. Possible

conflicts between the remaining virtues can then be managed if they

are tied together in some way as part of a unified whole (Russell

2009). This highlights two important avenues for future research, one

of which explores individual virtues and the other of which analyses

how they might be related to one another.

Bibliography

Abramson, Kate, 2015, “What’s So ‘Natural’

about Hume’s Natural Virtues?” in D. Ainslie and A.

Butler, The Cambridge Companion to Hume’s Ethics,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 333–368.

Adams, Robert Merrihew, 1999, Finite and Infinite Goods,

New York: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2006, A Theory of Virtue, New

York: Oxford University Press.

Alfano, Mark (ed.), 2015, Current Controversies in Virtue

Theory, New York: Routledge.

Angier, Tom, 2018, “Aristotle and the Charge of

Egoism,” Journal of Value Inquiry, 52:

457–475.

Angle, Stephen and Michael Slote (eds.), 2013, Virtue Ethics

and Confucianism, New York: Routledge.

Annas, Julia, 1993, The Morality of Happiness, New York:

Oxford University Press.

–––, 1999, Platonic Ethics, Old and

New, Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

–––, 2004, “Being Virtuous and Doing the

Right Thing,” Proceedings of the American Philosophical

Association, Presidential Address, 78 (2): 61–75.

–––, 2006, “Virtue Ethics”, in David

Copp (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of Ethical Theory, Oxford:

Oxford University Press, pp. 515–36.

–––, 2009, “Virtue Ethics and the Charge

of Egoism,” in Paul Bloomfield (ed.), Morality and

Self-Interest, Oxford: Oxford University Press,

205–21.

–––, 2011, Intelligent Virtue, New

York: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2015, “Applying Virtue to

Ethics,” Journal of Applied Philosophy, 32 (1):

1–14.

–––, 2016, “Learning Virtue Rules: The

Issue of Thick Concepts,” in Developing the Virtues,

Julia Annas, Darcia Narvaez, and Nancy Snow (eds.), New York: Oxford

University Press, 224–234.

–––, 2017, “Which Variety of Virtue

Ethics?” in Carr, et al. (2017), pp. 35–51.

Anscombe, G.E.M., 1958, “Modern Moral Philosophy,”

Philosophy, 33: 1–19.

Athanassoulis, Nafsika, 2000, “A Response to Harman: Virtue

Ethics and Character Traits”, Proceedings of the

Aristotelian Society (New Series), 100: 215–21.

–––, 2014, “Educating for Virtue”,

in van Hooft (2014), pp. 440–450.

Audi, Robert, 2009, “Moral Virtue and Reasons for

Action,” Philosophical Issues, 19: 1–20.

Back, Youngsun, 2018, “Virtue and the Good Life in the Early

Confucian Tradition,” Journal of Religious Ethics, 46:

37–62.

Badhwar, Neera, 1996, “The Limited Unity of Virtue,”

Noûs, 30: 306–29.

–––, 2014, Well-Being: Happiness in a

Worthwhile Life, New York: Oxford University Press.

Bailey, Olivia, 2010, “What Knowledge is Necessary for

Virtue?” Journal of Ethics and Social Philosophy, 4

(2): 1–17.

Baril, Anne, 2014, “Eudaimonia in Contemporary Virtue

Ethics,” in van Hooft (2014), pp. 17–27.

Battaly, Heather (ed.), 2010, Virtue and Vice, Moral and

Epistemic, a pair of special issues of Metaphilosophy,

41(1/2).

–––, 2015, “A Pluralist Theory of

Virtue,” in Alfano (2015), pp. 7–21.

Baxley, Anne Margaret, 2007, “The Price of Virtue,”

Pacific Philosophical Quarterly, 88: 403–23.

Besser-Jones, Lorraine, 2008, “Social Psychology, Moral

Character and Moral Fallibility,” Philosophy and

Phenomenological Research, 76: 310–32.

–––, 2020, “Learning Virtue,”

Journal of Moral Education, 49: 282–294.

Besser-Jones, Lorraine, and Michael Slote (eds.), 2015, The

Routledge Companion to Virtue Ethics, New York: Routledge.

Birondo, Noell, 2016, “Virtue and Prejudice: Giving and

Taking Reasons,” The Monist, 99: 212–223.

––– and S. Stewart Braun, 2017,

Virtue’s Reasons: New Essays on Virtue, Character, and

Reasons, New York: Routledge.

Bloomfield, Paul, 2014, The Virtues of Happiness: A Theory of

the Good Life, New York: Oxford University Press.

Bommarito, Nicolas, 2018, Inner Virtue, New York: Oxford

University Press.

Boyd, Craig and Kevin Timpe, 2021, The Virtues: A Very Short

Introduction, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Brady, Michael S., 2004, “Against Agent-Based Virtue

Ethics,” Philosophical Papers, 33: 1–10.

–––, 2005, “The Value of the

Virtues,” Philosophical Studies, 125:

85–144.

–––, 2018, Suffering and Virtue,

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Brown, Etienne, 2016, “Aristotelian Virtue Ethics and the

Normativity Challenge,” Dialogue: Canadian Philosophical

Review, 55: 131–150.

Cafaro, Philip (ed.), 2010, Journal of Agricultural and

Environmental Ethics, 23 (1/2). (Special edition on environmental

virtue ethics.)

–––, 2015, “Environmental Virtue

Ethics,” in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp.

427–444.

––– and Ronald D. Sandler (eds.), 2010,

Virtue Ethics and the Environment, New York: Springer.

Calhoun, Cheshire, 2000, “The Virtue of Civility,”

Philosophy and Public Affairs, 29 (3): 251–275.

Carr, David and Jan Steutel (eds.), 1999, Virtue Ethics and

Moral Education, New York: Routledge.

–––, J. Arthur, and K. Kristjansson (eds.),

2017, Varieties of Virtue Ethics, London: Palgrave

Macmillan.

Chappell, T. (ed.), 2006, Values and Virtues, Oxford:

Oxford University Press.

–––, 2014, Knowing What to Do, Oxford:

Oxford University Press.

Chappell, Sophie Grace, 2015, “Lists of the Virtues,”

Ethics and Politics, 17: 74–93.

Clarke, Bridget, 2010, “Virtue and Disagreement,”

Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 13: 273–91.

–––, 2018, “Virtue as a

Sensitivity,” in Snow (ed.) 2018, pp. 35–56.

Cline, Erin, 2015, Families of Virtue: Confucian and Western

Views on Childhood Development, New York: Columbia University

Press.

Cocking, Dean and Justin Oakley, 2001, Virtue Ethics and

Professional Roles, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Cokelet, Bradford, 2012, “Two-Level Eudaimonism and

Second-Personal Reasons,” Ethics, 122:

773–780.

–––, 2014, “Virtue Ethics and the Demands

of Social Morality,” Oxford Studies in Normative

Ethics, 4: 236–260.

–––, 2016, “Confucianism, Buddhism, and

Virtue Ethics,” European Journal for the Philosophy of

Religion, 8: 187–214.

––– and Blaine Fowers, 2019, “Realistic

Virtues and How to Study Them,” Journal of Moral

Education, 48: 7–26.

Crisp, Roger (ed.), 1996, How Should One Live?, Oxford:

Clarendon Press.

–––, 2015, “A Third Method of

Ethics?” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, 90:

257–273.

––– and Michael Slote (eds.), 1997, Virtue

Ethics, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Curren, Randall, 2015, “Virtue Ethics and Moral

Education,” in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp.

459–470.

Curzer, Howard, 2012, Aristotle and the Virtues, New

York: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2017, “Against Idealization in Virtue

Ethics,” in Varieties of Virtue Ethics, Carr, et al.

(eds.) 2017, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 53–71.

Darr, Ryan, 2020, “Virtues as Qualities of Character:

Alasdair MacIntyre and the Situationist Critique of Virtue

Ethics,” Journal of Religious Ethics, 48:

7–25.

Davis, Leesa, 2014, “Mindfulness, Non-Attachment and Other

Buddhist Virtues,” in van Hooft (2014), pp. 306–317.

Dent, N.J.H., 1984, The Moral Psychology of the Virtues,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

DePaul, Michael and Linda Zagzebski (eds.), 2003, Intellectual

Virtue: Perspectives from Ethics and Epistemology, New York:

Oxford University Press.

Doris, John M., 1998, “Persons, Situations and Virtue

Ethics,” Noûs, 32 (4): 504–30.

–––, 2010, “Heated Agreement: Lack of

Character as Being for the Good,” Philosophical

Studies, 148 (1): 135–146.

Driver, Julia, 2001, Uneasy Virtue, New York: Cambridge

University Press.

Dumler-Winckler, Emily, 2015, “Putting on Virtue without

Putting off Feminists,” Journal of Religious Ethics,

43: 342–367.

Fernando, Mario and Geoff Moore, 2015, “MacIntyrean Virtue

Ethics in Business: A Cross-Cultural Comparison,” Journal of

Business Ethics, 132: 185–202.

Finnigan, Bronwyn, 2015, “Phronesis in Aristotle:

Reconciling Deliberation with Spontaneity,” Philosophy and

Phenomenological Research, 91: 674–697.

––– and Koji Tanaka, 2011, “Ethics for

Madhyamikas,” in Dreyfus et al., Moonshadows: Conventional

Truth in Buddhist Philosophy, Oxford: Oxford University Press,

221–231.

Flanagan, Owen, 2015, “It Takes a Metaphysics: Raising

Virtuous Buddhists,” in Snow (2015), pp. 171–196.

Foot, Philippa, 1978, Virtues and Vices, Oxford:

Blackwell.

–––, 1994, “Rationality and Virtue,”

in H. Pauer-Studer (ed.), Norms, Values and Society,

Amsterdam: Kluwer, pp. 205–16.

–––, 1995, “Does Moral Subjectivism Rest

on a Mistake?” Oxford Journal of Legal Studies, 15:

1–14.

–––, 2001, Natural Goodness, Oxford,

Clarendon Press.

Frey, Jennifer and Candace Vogler (eds.), 2018,

Self-Transcendence and Virtue: Perspectives from Philosophy,

Psychology, and Theology, New York: Routledge.

Friedman, Marilyn, 2009, “Feminist Virtue Ethics, Happiness

and Moral Luck,” Hypatia, 24: 29–40.

Frykholm, Erin, 2015, “A Humean Particularist Virtue

Ethic,” Philosophical Studies, 172:

2171–2191.

Gardiner, Stephen (ed.), 2005, Virtue Ethics, Old and

New, Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Geach, Peter, 1956, “Good and Evil,”

Analysis, 17: 33–42.

–––, 1977, The Virtues, Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press.

Gelfand, Scott, 2019, “Hutchesonian Inspired Agent-Based

Virtue Ethics,” Southern Journal of Philosophy, 57:

483–504.

Goldie, Peter, 2004, On Personality, London:

Routledge.

Gowans, Christopher W., 2011, “Virtue Ethics and Moral

Relativism”, in Stephen D. Hales (ed.), A Companion to

Relativism, New York: Oxford University Press, pp.

391–410.

Griswold, Charles, 1999, Adam Smith and the Virtues of

Enlightenment, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hacker-Wright, John, 2007, “Moral Status in Virtue

Ethics,” Philosophy, 82: 449–73.

–––, 2010, “Virtue Ethics Without Right

Action: Anscombe, Foot and Contemporary Virtue Ethics,”

Journal of Value Inquiry, 44: 209–24.

Halwani, Raja, 2003, Virtuous Liaisons, Chicago: Open

Court.

Harcourt, Edward, 2015, “Nietzsche and the Virtues,”

in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 165–179.

Harman, G., 1999, “Moral Philosophy Meets Social Psychology:

Virtue Ethics and the Fundamental Attribution Error,”

Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society (New Series), 119:

316–31.

–––, 2009, “Scepticism About Character

Traits,” Journal of Ethics, 13: 235–42.

Hartman, Edwin, 2013, “The Virtue Approach to Business

Ethics,” in Russell (2013), pp. 240–264.

Herdt, Jennifer, 2010, Putting on Virtue: The Legacy of the

Splendid Vices, Chicago: Chicago University Press.

–––, 2019, “Excellence-Prior

Eudaimonism,” Journal of Religious Ethics, 47:

68–93.

Hirji, Sukaina, 2019, “What’s Aristotelian about

Neo-Aristotelian Virtue Ethics?” Philosophy and

Phenomenological Research, 98: 671–696.

Hudson, Stephen, 1986, Human Character and Morality,

Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Hurka, Thomas, 2001, Virtue, Vice, and Value, Oxford:

Oxford University Press.

–––, 2006, “Virtuous Act, Virtuous

Dispositions,” Analysis, 66: 69–76.

Hursthouse, Rosalind, 1990–1, “After Hume’s

Justice,” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 91:

229–45.

–––, 1999, On Virtue Ethics, Oxford:

Oxford University Press.

–––, 2007, “Environmental Virtue

Ethics,” in Walker and Ivanhoe 2007, pp. 155–172.

–––, 2011, “Virtue Ethics and the

Treatment of Animals,” in Tom L. Beauchamp and R. G. Frey

(eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Animal Ethics, New York,

Oxford University Press, pp. 119–143.

James, Simon, 2019, “Suffering and the Primacy of

Virtue,” Analysis, 79: 605–613.

Jenkins, Willis, 2016, “The Turn to Virtue in Climate

Ethics,” Environmental Ethics, 38: 77–96.

Johnson, Robert N., 2003, “Virtue and Right,”

Ethics, 133: 810–34.

–––, 2007, “Was Kant a Virtue

Ethicist?” in Monica Betzler (ed.), Kant’s Ethics of

Virtue, Berlin: De Gruyter Verlag, pp. 61–76.

Kamtekar, Rachana, 1998, “Imperfect Virtue,”

Ancient Philosophy, 18: 315–339.

–––, 2004, “Situationism and Virtue Ethics

on the Content of Our Character,” Ethics, 114:

458–91.

–––, 2016, “Becoming Good: Narrow

Dispositions and the Stability of Virtue,” in Developing the

Virtues, Julia Annas, Darcia Narvaez, and Nancy Snow (eds.), New York:

Oxford University Press, 184–203.

Kawall, Jason, 2009, “In Defence of the Primacy of

Virtues,” Journal of Ethics and Social Philosophy, 3

(2): 1–21.

–––, 2021, The Virtues of

Sustainability, New York: Oxford University Press.

Keller, Simon, 2007, “Virtue Ethics is Self-Effacing,”

Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 85 (2):

221–32.

Kekes, John, 2002, The Art of Life, Ithaca, NY: Cornell

University Press.

Kraut, Richard, 1989, Aristotle on the Human Good,

Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Kristjánsson, K., 2008, “An Aristotelian Critique of

Situationism,” Philosophy, 83: 55–76.

–––, 2018, Virtuous Emotions, Oxford:

Oxford University Press.

Kupperman, Joel J., 2001, “The Indispensability of

Character,” Philosophy, 76: 239–50.

–––, 2009, “Virtue in Virtue

Ethics,” Journal of Ethics, 13: 243–55.

LeBar, Mark, 2009, “Virtue Ethics and Deontic

Constraints,” Ethics, 119: 642–71.

–––, 2013a, “Virtue and Politics”,

in Russell (2013), pp. 265–289.

–––, 2013b, The Value of Living Well,

New York: Oxford University Press.

Leunissen, Mariska, 2017, From Natural Character to Moral

Virtue in Aristotle, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

MacIntyre, Alasdair, 1985, After Virtue, London:

Duckworth, 2nd Edition.

–––, 1999, Dependent Rational Animals,

Chicago: Open Court.

McAleer, Sean, 2007, “An Aristotelian Account of Virtue

Ethics: An Essay in Moral Taxonomy,” Pacific Philosophical

Quarterly, 88: 308–25.

–––, 2010, “Four Solutions to the Alleged

Incompleteness of Virtue Ethics,” Journal of Ethics and

Social Philosophy, 4 (3): 1–20.

McDowell, John, 1979, “Virtue and Reason,” The

Monist, 62: 331–50.

–––, 1995, “Two Sorts of

Naturalism,” in Virtues and Reasons, R. Hursthouse, G.

Lawrence and W. Quinn (eds.), Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp.

149–79.

McPherson, David, 2020, Virtue and Meaning: A Neo-Aristotelian

Perspective, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Martinez, Joel, 2011, “Is Virtue Ethics

Self-Effacing?” Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 89

(2): 277–88.

Merritt, M., 2000, “Virtue Ethics and Situationist

Personality Psychology,” Ethical Theory and Moral

Practice, 3: 365–83.

Miller, Christian, 2013, Moral Character: An Empirical

Theory, New York: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2014, Character and Moral

Psychology, New York: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2018, The Character Gap: How Good Are

We?, New York: Oxford University Press.

Moore, Geoff, 2017, Virtue at Work: Ethics for Individuals,

Managers, and Organizations, Oxford: Oxford University

Press.

Murdoch, Iris, 1971, The Sovereignty of Good, London:

Routledge.

Nussbaum, Martha C., 1990, “Aristotelian Social

Democracy,” in R. Douglass, G. Mara, and H. Richardson (eds.),

Liberalism and the Good, New York: Routledge, pp.

203–52.

–––, 1993, “Non-Relative Virtues: An

Aristotelian Approach,” in The Quality of Life, Martha

C. Nussbaum and Amartya Sen (eds.), Oxford: Oxford University Press,

pp. 242–70.

–––, 2006, Frontiers of Justice,

Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Oakley, Justin, 2013, “Virtue Ethics and Bioethics,”

in Russell (2013), pp. 197–220.

Perrett, Roy and Glen Pettigrove, 2015, “Hindu Virtue

Ethics,” in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 51–62.

Pettigrove, Glen, 2007, “Ambitions,” Ethical

Theory and Moral Practice, 10 (1): 53–68.

–––, 2011, “Is Virtue Ethics

Self-Effacing?” Journal of Ethics, 15 (3):

191–207.

–––, 2012, “Meekness and

‘Moral’ Anger,” Ethics, 122 (2):

341–370.

–––, 2018, “Alternatives to

Neo-Aristotelian Virtue Ethics,” in Snow (ed.) 2018, pp.

359–376.

––– and Christine Swanton (eds.), 2022,

Neglected Virtues, New York: Routledge.

Pieper, Josef, 1966, The Four Cardinal Virtues, Notre

Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press.

Pinsent, Andrew, 2013, The Second-Person Perspective in

Aquinas’s Ethics, New York: Routledge.

Price, A.W., 2011, Virtue and Reason in Plato and

Aristotle, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Prinz, Jesse, 2009, “The Normativity Challenge: Cultural

Psychology Provides the Real Threat to Virtue Ethics,”

Journal of Ethics, 13: 117–44.

Prior, William, 1991, Virtue and Knowledge: An Introduction to

Ancient Greek Ethics, New York: Routledge.

Reed, Philip, 2016, “Empirical Adequacy and Virtue

Ethics,” Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 19:

343–357.

Reid, Jeremy, 2019, “Virtue, Rule-Following, and Absolute

Prohibitions,” Journal of the American Philosophical

Association, 5: 78–97.

Reshotko, Naomi, 2006, Socratic Virtue: Making the Best of the

Neither-Good-Nor-Bad, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Roberts, Robert, 2017, “Varities of Virtue Ethics,” in

Carr, et al. (2017), pp. 17–34.

Rogers, Tristan, 2020, “Virtue Ethics and Political

Authority,” Journal of Social Philosophy, 51:

303–321.

Russell, Daniel C., 2008a, “Agent-Based Virtue Ethics and

the Fundamentality of Virtue,” American Philosophical

Quarterly, 45: 329–48.

–––, 2008b, “That ‘Ought’ Does

Not Imply ‘Right’: Why It Matters for Virtue

Ethics,” Southern Journal of Philosophy, 46:

299–315.

–––, 2009, Practical Intelligence and the

Virtues, New York: Oxford University Press.

––– (ed.), 2013, The Cambridge Companion to

Virtue Ethics, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Russell, Paul, 2006, “Moral Sense and Virtue in Hume’s

Ethics,” in Chappell (2006), pp. 158–170.

Sandler, Ronald, 2007, Character and Environment: A

Virtue-Oriented Approach to Environmental Ethics, New York:

Columbia University Press.

Sanford, Jonathan, 2015, Before Virtue: Assessing Contemporary

Virtue Ethics, Washington, D.C.: Catholic University Press.

Sim, May, 2015, “Why Confucius’ Ethics is a Virtue

Ethics,” in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 63–76.

Singh, Keshav, 2021, “Vice and Virtue in Sikh Ethics,”

The Monist, 104: 319–336.

Slingerland, Edward, 2011, “The Situationist Critique and

Early Confucian Virtue Ethics,” Ethics, 121 (2):

390–419.

Slote, Michael, 1993, “Virtue Ethics and Democratic

Values,” Journal of Social Philosophy, 14:

5–37.

–––, 1997, “Virtue Ethics”, in

Marcia Baron, Philip Pettit, and Michael Slote, Three Methods of

Ethics, Oxford: Blackwell, pp. 175–238.

–––, 2001, Morals from Motives, Oxford:

Oxford University Press.

–––, 2010, Moral Sentimentalism, New

York: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2011, The Impossibility of Perfection:

Aristotle, Feminism, and the Complexities of Ethics, New York,

Oxford University Press.

Smith, Nicholas R., 2017, “Right-Makers and the Targets of

the Virtues,” Journal of Value Inquiry, 51:

311–326.

–––, 2018, “Right Action as Virtuous

Action,” Australasian Journal of Philosophy, 96:

241–254.

Snow, Nancy, 2010, Virtue as Social Intelligence: An

Empirically Grounded Theory, New York: Routledge.

––– (ed.), 2015, Cultivating Virtue,

Oxford: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2016, “Virtue Acquisition: The

Paradox of Striving,” Journal of Moral Education, 45:

179–191.

––– (ed.), 2018, The Oxford Handbook of

Virtue, New York: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2020, Contemporary Virtue Ethics,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Solomon, David, 1988, “Internal Objections to Virtue

Ethics,” Midwest Studies in Philosophy, 13:

428–41, reprinted in Statman 1997.

Sreenivasan, Gopal, 2002, “Errors about Errors: Virtue

Theory and Trait Attribution,” Mind, 111 (January):

47–68.

Stalnaker, Aaron, 2019, Mastery, Dependence, and the Ethics of

Authority, New York: Oxford University Press.

Stangl, Rebecca, 2010, “Asymmetrical Virtue

Particularism,” Ethics, 121: 37–57.

–––, 2015, “Taking Moral Risks and

Becoming Virtuous,” in Character: New Directions from

Philosophy, Theology, and Psychology, Christian Miller, R.

Michael Furr, Angela Knobel, and William Fleeson (eds.), New York:

Oxford University Press, 215–232.

–––, 2020, Neither Heroes nor Saints:

Ordinary Virtue, Extraordinary Virtue, and Self-Cultivation, New

York: Oxford University Press.

Star, Daniel, 2015, Knowing Better: Virtue, Deliberation, and

Normative Ethics, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Statman, D. (ed.), 1997, Virtue Ethics, Edinburgh:

Edinburgh University Press.

Steyl, Steven, 2019, “The Virtue of Care,”

Hypatia, 34: 507–526.

Stichter, Matt, 2011, “Virtues, Skills, and Right

Action,” Ethical Theory and Moral Practice, 14:

73–86.

Striker, Gisela, 2006, “Aristotle’s Ethics as

Political Science”, in Burkhard Reis (ed.), The Virtuous

Life in Greek Ethics, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp.

127–141.

Stocker, Michael, 1976, “The Schizophrenia of Modern Ethical

Theories,” Journal of Philosophy, 14:

453–66.

Svensson, Frans, 2010, “Virtue Ethics and the Search for an

Account of Right Action,” Ethical Theory and Moral

Practice, 13: 255–71.

Swanton, Christine, 2003, Virtue Ethics: A Pluralistic

View, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

–––, 2009, “Virtue Ethics and the Problem

of Demandingness,” in T. Chappell (ed.), The Problem of

Moral Demandingness: New Philosophical Essays, Basingstoke:

Palgrave Macmillan, 104–122.

–––, 2011a, “Nietzsche and the Virtues of

Mature Egoism,” in Simon May (ed.), Cambridge Critical Guide

to Nietzsche’s ‘On the Genealogy of Morality’,

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 285–308.

–––, 2011b, “Virtue Ethics,” in

Christian Miller (ed.), The Continuum Companion to Ethics,

New York: Continuum, 190–213.

–––, 2013, “A New Metaphysics for Virtue

Ethics: Heidegger Meets Hume,” in Julia Peters (ed.),

Aristotelian Ethics in Contemporary Perspective, New York:

Routledge, pp. 177–194.

–––, 2015, The Virtue Ethics of Hume and

Nietzsche, Oxford: Wiley Blackwell.

–––, 2021, Target Centred Virtue

Ethics, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Taylor, Gabriele, 2006, Deadly Vices, Oxford: Oxford

University Press.

Taylor, Jacqueline, 2002, “Hume on the Standard of

Virtue,” Journal of Ethics, 6: 43–62.

–––, 2006, “Virtue and the Evaluation of

Character,” in Saul Traiger (ed.), The Blackwell Guide to

Hume’s Treatise, Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing,

276–295.

–––, 2008, “Hume on Beauty and

Virtue,” in Elizabeth Radcliffe (ed.), A Companion to

Hume, Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 273–292.

Tessman, Lisa, 2005, Burdened Virtues, New York: Oxford

University Press.

Timpe, Kevin and Craig Boyd (eds.), 2014, Virtues and Their

Vices, New York: Oxford University Press.

Toner, Christopher, 2006, “The Self-Centeredness Objection

to Virtue Ethics,” Philosophy, 81: 595–618.

–––, 2010, “Virtue Ethics and The Nature

and Forms of Egoism,” Journal of Philosophical

Research, 35: 323–52.

Upton, Candace (ed.), 2009, Virtue Ethics and Moral

Psychology: The Situationism Debate, a pair of special issues of

The Journal of Ethics, 13 (2/3).

–––, 2016, “The Empirical Argument Against

Virtue,” Journal of Ethics, 20: 335–371.

Vallor, Shannon, 2016, Technology and the Virtues: A

Philosophical Guide to a Future Worth Wanting, New York: Oxford

University Press.

van Hooft, Stan (ed.), 2014, The Handbook of Virtue

Ethics, Durham: Acumen.

van Zyl, Liezl, 2009, “Agent-Based Virtue Ethics and the

Problem of Action Guidance,” Journal of Moral

Philosophy, 6 (1): 50–69.

–––, 2010, “Right Action and the

Non-Virtuous Agent,” Journal of Applied Philosophy, 28

(1): 80–92.

–––, 2014, “Right Action and the Targets

of Virtue,” in van Hooft (2014), pp. 118–129.

–––, 2019, Virtue Ethics: A Contemporary

Introduction, New York: Routledge.

Vigani, Denise, 2017, “Is Patience a Virtue?”

Journal of Value Inquiry, 51: 327–340.

–––, 2019, “Virtuous Construal: In Defense

of Silencing,” Journal of the American Philosophical

Association, 5: 229–245.

Vogler, Candace, 2013, “Natural Virtue and Proper

Upbringing,” in Aristotelian Ethics in Contemporary

Perspectives, Julia Peters (ed.), New York: Routledge.

–––, 2020, “Aristotelian Necessity,”

Royal Institute of Philosophy Supplement, 87:

101–110.

Walker, Rebecca L. and Philip J. Ivanhoe (eds.), 2007, Working

Virtue, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Watson, Gary, 1990, “On the Primacy of Character,” in

Flanagan and Rorty, pp. 449–83, reprinted in Statman, 1997.

Welchman, Jennifer (ed.), 2006, The Practice of Virtue:

Classic and Contemporary Readings in Virtue Ethics, Indianapolis:

Hackett Publishing Company.

White, Nicholas, 2015, “Plato and the Ethics of

Virtue,” in Besser-Jones and Slote (2015), pp. 3–15.

Williams, Bernard, 1985, Ethics and the Limits of

Philosophy, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

–––, 2002, Truth and Truthfulness,

Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Wilson, Alan, 2018, “Honesty as a Virtue,”

Metaphilosophy, 49: 262–280.

Wynn, Mark, 2020, Spiritual Traditions and the Virtues: Living

between Heaven and Earth, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Yu, Jiyuan, 2007, The Ethics of Confucius and Aristotle:

Mirrors of Virtue, New York: Routledge.

Zagzebski, Linda, 1996, Virtues of the Mind, New York:

Cambridge University Press.

–––, 1998, “The Virtues of God and the

Foundations of Ethics,” Faith and Philosophy, 15 (4):

538–553.

–––, 2004, Divine Motivation Theory,

New York: Cambridge University Press.

–––, 2017, Exemplarist Moral Theory,

New York: Oxford University Press.

Zwolinski, Matt and David Schmidtz, 2013, “Environmental

Virtue Ethics,” in Russell (2013), pp. 221–239.

Academic Tools

How to cite this entry.

Preview the PDF version of this entry at the

Friends of the SEP Society.

Look up topics and thinkers related to this entry

at the Internet Philosophy Ontology Project (InPhO).

Enhanced bibliography for this entry

at PhilPapers, with links to its database.

Other Internet Resources

Bibliography on Virtue Ethics

(in PDF, listed alphabetically), and

Bibliography on Virtue Ethics

(in PDF, listed chronologically), by Jörg Schroth.

Related Entries

Aristotle |

character, moral |

character, moral: empirical approaches |

consequentialism |

ethics: deontological |

moral dilemmas

Acknowledgments

Parts of the introductory material above repeat what was said in the

Introduction and first chapter of On Virtue Ethics

(Hursthouse 1999).

Rosalind Hursthouse

Glen Pettigrove

Open access to the SEP is made possible by a world-wide funding initiative.

The Encyclopedia Now Needs Your Support

Please Read How You Can Help Keep the Encyclopedia Free

Browse

Table of Contents

What's New

Random Entry

Chronological

Archives

About

Editorial Information

About the SEP

Editorial Board

How to Cite the SEP

Special Characters

Advanced Tools

Accessibility

Contact

Support SEP

Support the SEP

PDFs for SEP Friends

Make a Donation

SEPIA for Libraries

Mirror Sites

View this site from another server:

USA (Main Site)

Philosophy, Stanford University

Info about mirror sites

Library of Congress Catalog Data: ISSN 1095-5054

Ethics and Ethical Behavior | SpringerLink

Find a journal

Publish with us

Track your research

Cart

Encyclopedia of Psychology and Religion pp 609–615Cite as

Home

Encyclopedia of Psychology and Religion

Reference work entry

Ethics and Ethical Behavior

Claudia Nagel2

Reference work entry

295 Accesses

Introduction

Human beings are constantly judging their own actions and those of others. Good and evil, moral and amoral, and conscienceless are the respective judgments whereby we implicitly assume that “one” knows the basic difference between good and evil. Moral conduct is thus always attributed to an individual, who is regarded as being responsible for his actions and held accountable for these, i.e., he has to answer to himself, his own conscience, or an external authority or institution. Moral behavior therefore presupposes the concept of voluntariness and freedom. Conscience, freedom, and responsibility are central concepts of moral behavior and ethics as the philosophical doctrine of morally relevant behavior (Moral Philosophy).

Ethics as a philosophical discipline dates back to Aristotle, who also pursued earlier approaches, as those of Plato and Socrates. The term ethics is derived from the Ancient Greek “ethikos”: custom, habit, or tradition. Although the adjectival or...

This is a preview of subscription content, log in via an institution.

BibliographyAnzenbacher, A. (1992a). Einführung in die Ethik. Düsseldorf: Patmos.

Google Scholar

Anzenbacher, A. (1992b). Einführung in die Philosophie. Wien: Herder und Co.

Google Scholar

Apel, K-O. (1988). Diskurs und Verantwortung: Das Problem des Übergangs zur postkonventionellen Moral. Frankfurt am Main.

Google Scholar

Aristoteles. (1991). Die Nikomachische Ethik. München: DTV.

Google Scholar

Cooper, J. M., & Hutchinson, D. S. (Eds.). (1997). Plato: Complete works. Indianapolis: Hackett.

Google Scholar

Drewermann, E. (1982). Psychoanalyse und Moraltheologie. Band 1: Angst und Schuld. Mainz: Mathias-Grünwald-Verlag.

Google Scholar

Freud, S. (1999). Das Unbehagen in der Kultur. Werke aus den Jahren 1925–1931. Gesammelte Werke Band XIV. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer.

Google Scholar

Garz, D. (2006). Sozialpsychologische Entwicklungstheorien. Von Mead, Piaget und Kohlberg bis zur Gegenwart. Wiesbaden: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften.

Google Scholar

Gilligan, C. (1982). In a different voice. Psychological theory and women’s development. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Google Scholar

Habermas, J. (1968). Erkenntnis und Interesse. Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp.

Google Scholar

Habermas, J. (1983). Moralbewusstsein und kommunikatives Handeln. Frankfurt am Main.

Google Scholar

Höffe, O. (1999). Lesebuch zur Ethik. Philosophische Texte von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart. München: Beck.

Google Scholar

Höffe, O. (2002). Lexikon der Ethik. München: Beck.

Google Scholar

Jung, C. G. (1995). Zivilisation im Übergang. Gesammelte Werke Band 10. Solothurn und Düsseldorf: Walter.

Google Scholar

Kant, I. (1995a). Werke 2: Kritik der reinen Vernunft. Werke in sechs Bänden. Köln: Könemann.

Google Scholar

Kant, I. (1995b). Werke 3: Kritik der praktischen Vernunft und andere kritische Schriften. Werke in sechs Bänden. Köln: Könemann.

Google Scholar

Kohlberg, L. (1981). The philosophy of moral development. San Francisco: Harper & Row.

Google Scholar

Kohlberg, L. (1984). The psychology of moral development. San Francisco: Harper & Row.

Google Scholar

Lang, P. C. (1992). Lebendige Philosophie: Debatten und Kontroversen der siebziger und achtziger Jahre. In C. Helferich (Ed.), Geschichte der Philosophie. Von den Anfängen bis zur Gegenwart. Stuttgart: Metzler.

Google Scholar

Marquard, O. (1981). Abschied vom Prinzipiellen. Stuttgart: Philosophische Studien.

Google Scholar

Marquard, O. (2007). Skepsis in der Moderne. Philosphische Studien. Stuttgart: Reclam.

Google Scholar

Piaget, J. (1997). The moral judgement of the child. New York: Free Press.

Google Scholar

Piaget, J., & Inhelder, B. (2000). The psychology of the child. New York: Basic Books.

Google Scholar

Pieper, A. (2007). Einführung in die Ethik. Francke: Basel u Tübingen.

Google Scholar

Scheler, M. (2000). Grammatik der Gefühle. Das Emotionale als Grundlage der Ethik. München: DTV.

Google Scholar

Download referencesAcknowledgmentThis text was translated by Gisela Rumsey, M.A.Author informationAuthors and AffiliationsNagel & Company Management Consulting, Frankfurt, GermanyClaudia NagelAuthorsClaudia NagelView author publicationsYou can also search for this author in

PubMed Google ScholarCorresponding authorCorrespondence to

Claudia Nagel .Editor informationEditors and AffiliationsUniversity of Connecticut, Storrs, CT, USADavid A. Leeming (Emeritus Professor) (Emeritus Professor)Rights and permissionsReprints and permissionsCopyright information© 2014 Springer Science+Business Media New YorkAbout this entryCite this entryNagel, C. (2014). Ethics and Ethical Behavior.

In: Leeming, D.A. (eds) Encyclopedia of Psychology and Religion. Springer, Boston, MA. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4614-6086-2_216Download citation.RIS.ENW.BIBDOI: https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4614-6086-2_216

Publisher Name: Springer, Boston, MA

Print ISBN: 978-1-4614-6085-5

Online ISBN: 978-1-4614-6086-2eBook Packages: Behavioral ScienceShare this entryAnyone you share the following link with will be able to read this content:Get shareable linkSorry, a shareable link is not currently available for this article.Copy to clipboard

Provided by the Springer Nature SharedIt content-sharing initiative

Publish with usPolicies and ethics

Access via your institution

Search by keyword or author

Navigation

Find a journal

Publish with us

Track your research

Discover content

Journals A-Z

Books A-Z

Publish with us

Publish your research

Open access publishing

Products and services

Our products

Librarians

Societies

Partners and advertisers

Our imprints

Springer

Nature Portfolio

BMC

Palgrave Macmillan

Apress

Your privacy choices/Manage cookies

Your US state privacy rights

Accessibility statement

Terms and conditions

Help and support

49.157.13.121

Not affiliated

-1.7 %��

59 0 obj <>stream

h�2�P0P��w�/�+Q0��,H��/-��K-��0�� endstream endobj 60 0 obj <>stream

h��ko�0��S�q�P۹�TEZa�� JC�C-A�� ?��1�4֮c��|?F6ң�4

TRHN*D�ғ�rIeԀ2�~��쌽+�s3�{5Ģ�(�Y��Dޱ�R�N��+�W%�9��a��Lw\�L';=:I��L��U��Р�v�R��[&�M��n�y�N�dB��F2��ޒIІ$"��!�B��'4>�4)�"|9�� M��Zev��$�p�D/V�� 8�Ta��d�J�٧B�t��8AE($�R��\��*��j+>��2p�`s(H �RW��g�#m�f��n]��8v�[�U�+�r*b�a7�4�"U%lM36Ew��t=*��VIe ��i�삺��8��'=ne�(s �(��NaҮ��Ӻ`=5��l]�G=�K%�e�{�q��BOv��6U��x��{�P��a��N��o8�q��ξ��w�d쇾��?�E��q~��k"?��?�k��_�׬��/��?8�r�x�=��H+�}��M3j!��Vuu��\��Ioqg�OR�q�C��w� endstream endobj 61 0 obj <>stream

hެTKo�0�+��_@Q��l@N��H�uva��?�`�0�(�i~��`��dBDLG,J2�c�� E��o��6��M��?�M},u��CU�EmQ�c��'�X��_˪��~�|��?��[�s��7�j�*�22�k�N��Bn�wk�U�˟my��*�s�b�5mgNE��'L�5o�q7�Tv��RN��4!�7�=u��8aH2IЊ��s�)2�#�;j ��+��B!Ov��#��4��>Ӻ��@�(�J� t�&C�B�h��2tgr�S��{:�B�@!x�~��e��sh�_�ug��r�N��U\u��Kl<�$ �X�Z�CDB��ˋ<⢨{!xųq0��{(��k9L�� T� ��J��2��i��S��31��i��e��h�~��za�#�w�EZ��Ov@7�#��zl,c

q�V��O��I��ir��>stream

H��Wmo�F��_1e �� u�&��݋��bCr��,%˩��5��3��̎.|*z��(��E;��?]��t�{q@*�TPg&��e:��L��T9-�� (�"��LM{S��5`�1�-�,P*��,��

�K��v�Xx�څ�|9�!/A�1��7O�p��B8yd�L��zFo��#��-b��Ù��O��?��~�]8t��T��~<��,��}�7t��d|u�T�-uyR�Qa:��]��Q�:��^

�o��n��5��)��l��[��l��z�|^Y��[�U[�� >�{�'�ֶ��]��> ��x��^��Bb��V^��X�5�:2��YOB��fsE�?�s�_��0s��E��?,�u��*��|�i� �2��$��wj�B��a�DE�)��0��=LѸ2:�T;)�"*&[Iq�hnN�P%�;�M�a��A��L�Gg{��I�)��I�� di��-Nġ

bm��r*�Ħ[!�:�ʇ��^$�t V�0��t��p\>G��SZw�!��݇b��ӭxI��Fӽ

fz��8@kؼ☔�ћb��rT��g8�$�ljT��k�EI�҄dҐ�[N�u��M ~�L0��(��!~�E� ��j�9c!IS1$.7QL��d�ՠb�v�&Ⱦf�2��w�9'%�Ϩ:JRD_��\ �� w�s�@ZewH��5��b�t��X1�<%��(e^��i�Iub?%.]�J�Z ȨX#�nv�D�$S%qHI��䘚�,f�^�:t|g�&=�N�#��ę)�%�4u��j��X3

�(j��1��~6��K��ɖ��LȋR(W��V��9�pWO'1��w2T��#�q�옠�H��5�:

"�f,��'a��#޶�Di��M�χ��+X$Lƈ�K}��{�سd+�#�%�,�f

J��A*�X�

#ng(E�n$.C�

u�uF��a�D0 ��O��6�o�<��=Ïo&�j�+!�:��O��^rz�f~z|��j�^M��'n!2��jr��|j�4�m��~��F�Ca��'VL�y=Ȍ,�]w��dB|F��S�S��0��hb��0O��W�?��顽�傉��

�e�x��:��*o_��T뼞��Ë��O��/_�ϯ�h�

�)�0D4�8t;��ǧ86;��r

�L^��d�@�wv9}ej�ԑuKH�*,��6V��dF�x��OT[��·��;�mG��K��)��sv9��1+F��9�W��`�k莄'x�j��i��j��_�N�P��֍��ʕ��W��[�{_gAr�w?�� Y�vs�k%��u��8��Y#ј��J��ymL�le�EK@��o��{�R~hS�C��wv9}��j��r��޽

��kas}K�{�C��i o��/m� ��%��wG�]�|�{(�)

��^�� #s7%�=�Q�{�r��PU��M��*_��X��o��ai��A��¬w?��Hp]�H^�M�PH��ݴ��$b�s��(��Ra�� x��Ս� endstream endobj 4 0 obj <>stream

H�\Wˎ]��߯8Kg1Gd�l�KG��Dcd��$�x8��S]��o�N��Y]��|�Җ��*��ǻ?a��_X�l��˖�{��Ǐ�?>?�=��-o�?>J�+6�X�gkck�{r,�>�y��w��n��?�||��l�~��w�|��o��?}��s|��_�m��߷_�n�*oձle�c/�o/�<��=��C��h�Nv�l/��1��w��R��ЇC�x�偛�n�ǵq�.��ne��S�+�x�Mx��f?i/x�칅.so�⦂;p��T2~p��}P�w��Un��t(�rw�{��%O��S��m��v�!yOT��rﱎ�F��}O�8>r�aKų�r��@�v)��c�6yc/�7Z��*��0��2@��M8;f��9��3��t.w[�H��77no��Ȇ�p\�;mn4)��F<��>��9/�S��-�tq�R�/�a��J��ûSNS>jUQh��

��kG�n��[��V�6��)I�

�(J��*�H+

HJ��+��nE�k盯Qw��Ӟ�Me��iSA`�2U�o>AT��s��}�r?��1iތAM��V��wW��ճ(^�f��ς��V��3��)��n��B)�5?��ɵ�̐�6�"D [?+��С

᧖rD�:+?>̣;�k��a��WV0ţ�d�C(mJ}ke��^e�hrY.��W��o��ƭ�X �EM��x�\QX2w�?��Sh٣B��'��1�<"eo|

�!hC�|7�)㰞y�-�h��aw Oòrԛ]�r3��ErY��B�HKiF\C{B�q� 4�+�Z9ܴ*�>��x;�C>�

�Si��R

�\0 c�$�g��QȰZ'� yy�}�l�Rm�$A��I5Ј��)'�i$��Ic�(��A)#3=(�O�<h�

�c['y��J��yU�j=��~dt� �~�r�*h��Z��}�a�c�i��q�0�T��FM�OB�U4��cMъ�]cB4�q��p��"�'B�d��ri@$k��B7��Q�t�1�q1y�Uiϯ��

��*��z=�%k�k�"$��Zǣs��Z��<.�mo�

�*Z��H_��ڑ�!&�$"�`�H�|��>�)�TIk�㵟ȫR�w��%\�D��P(*BC �Chͺi�HB��wa��<#��l"��ВN��u��B��k�n'��ܻh�7 N�]<��C>�3��Μ�s]?dM��@5� ��q#t{̕��"ŦĔEx�t��F��'N�!T(7�$�ם�/T�#\ݰkp

q��&+�C&BF��lg!�.�k��0RպS��Cs �v��;��̩��|�/L��&�F"!�a�i��FhUM�w,6��*9��7�֢�S�je�

�gL��o��1F��0@$��@]_Եc,��_]J�;��t�̚dz^��+�ۢ�*��Xn9�FZ'uL�7L)4��%�_J]_��"��_&?�`��u�#I��0��(J��mw޿@fe�UE�N Ч0�6�'��&��S瞕o��s��Ӗ�[b(��s�n��C�v��3�X'��[��YB&M�� -:A��ߝ�3��,��F��Pi��N�Kdٞ��,�0�ʽ�Ӱ�<�c�3)zc�Sv9t�kZ0f,}9#w�6I�U��ڛ�H�^b,of,N< �GV�xݰu�73�} �䆛X�}�� ̊��M�!�ݧH1qij�FH;�[z@�>��HX!�"x��4}��U6��nĆ��&�g~3�װ"L��u)äG�4�4�J (��v�@�?�TiT��ً�(G<�֓%�Dt��櫬I*�"�Q��\��z�N<��D�T�[u�>!�r��kY*�w@b4�V��6�Kw��1R�Z"��@�K�oz?Y"��e�-#k>�%fnG 5��T��9]��1�}7Ɋk�Q��9��[�c�p��F��S�6�)�N�&�O+?��ݦ�F��_�X�� P7��.& p�hc߬�A��eI�g;k8�=�K�(�N~u��d9�vj�ꃐ�lZ�Y��n$ ��xl��*�v#&�>��l�t��;��%d��y� ��%�p��]�A��n��G�uٻ�ɿ�❕��uC�5%�b��ML�D�~�&�.ظp�b��F�%��I��N7F�i@u��U��_��<�r:ö`*&J�*��Q,9�_.��㓚 �v��(戆�\z�]�F��Hsx��6��-��C(��u��+m��?;��iSP�H1qr��i��W��1Ş��դ�z܌��t�C�H�m�s��@��G �|�x��o]��i�ßљ��1��ALUGg{i�/��͹�V�4�|�N��m�

\��>Z�K m�

/��&Y!q�ydlݬ�F��)]u�Ue?u��>��D��6��"��ܺDo��*Ca`L 03�

��n�/��q�Rp�,��_El �� R

�32�!�E�$�$��%�* G/��t�&1;�^H��"�d��,��o ,¨�ָ��۔�D��y��ǐ��Ǖ��= ��MmQ�=��#'GVתF�:�-q�9�k��G3��'2U�Ht@ÃYH��CVU?ia�hA�Q�'3##�N��HՇ��u�>�ڂ��!.Ӂq��f��3|雇��q��k��;��Ny˪��e+�T��r8��5ŏ��8ǽ��f��j��o�]�5�[$��c�>��^��f��}G;c��R�� y��i��,?��܂��5��/Ey6��a�Ҟ��'dl�k�eS��7/�(��I�h:!�t��⇲�x:�ږ�<�x�zq=؍

Ǉ��Ը�K�/۫�jC85�!�v��vhNL��]�2�b�ڵ�dU

|ʷ��BAu��gq�9�鹴&��]�F��t��JC�C2O�Ǒ��a�x0S�o��ώ3Z��i*�1g��{�ni��ػ5V��_u�t?u9�[3�l�_Gٔ7ŵ�%��k�r"_�B�k[�Y��f��?�&ٞޛ�S5��a�Y��_?.�I��$��X��E�h�C�2��j59��7�>Y��_o��+�/�

nE�-aX��;�?<]��WZU

�V��l�X��kl�4��>��S�O�8�4�|��0�C�&�l�*�`0�f3�N&��"

k�"��*�`X��ih"��B�=��P�C]��vX��/9΂E

��)�6� 6��_��G�t�|��r ;��^��FT��o�C6��|)%�ܤ�vSx�x0BXQ;��ې��M*R hC;ͬ��݅h{*(��P�QKk��{�<�'y��Kx��ȕ/��n,K`b�Mdd�N0��SO٧��I>ԋ(K%+̴a�q�"�R4V��O9U��6��S��ݲ��͒ލ�og!�g-��U��ٮ��Z��7�d͓$�t��K�h�oeT*��R��]VC�K �A�9��T��5�fN�W�[��P'c釘�)��g��Y�1��v�5,i�C�Tf�͗�ڮ"w�%4�s(.A�Xh��AL%!�� v��#��c*��P4vtm�hu�,,�.2�j$��fI�+rH�2sr6̰hi�;I�e��R+�i�5�ڰ+��Wn��!\3��݄�%=�\��s��tZ�S�[H_�@� �I�ʏ��95��H�°��=n��:P5��b{��X��ì�I��S|�C�ʤ;b��[&��j��1%Vi��ǡ�%ԗ��nu��=(i�

��K�o"S��J+��)��p舓sh<B$Ø��|I�+�O��VOC^N�Y��ףBW�S�V��6z�j-�k�Z#��O^Fޞ�Ջ�B��"9H�rZ�u�5Sޥݟ��Y�U�(rx�⚔�߮��\-��1M_��檟�;f�l��Ůn��9om�q5�_��t��w��u��~�W�wھ��_?�>ha��Z��M�49sw9T�{N�L&�=%'�CcG75�A�zZ��m/�9PC6��ۚh�ɐc��@6I��ޑD��(�@��B��Pq��Pj��Yo$�5,�CX�r�&�ݼs�*溕��&0Ţ��V��Y��ɼGXi&� kRZ�.��ƐiCb��(naBn��Y��Z��O{��N�CޤQ��:�E�K�P;�?�0;�:�s4�q

�b3ƹ��~֤X_�RF��ѐ��68�mH�;��ܐ?:T\s�η�N:�s�ӽc_�V�|`�џ�`�h�*3�l�V.��0Dz�%�v��Q�i�✨��C��o��ő!��6�p��g�j��ʖ��T��$p��X��E`YD�

kf�Kd�}#

�M*�h3��f�JW��y�NU�{��;��_::��e��|��3�=Դ��{�ϋ/��u�#�b��օ��G�UEe��"��T,�:�H��A�*S\��i�L�B�w��bhP��i��{�R��D�|Iǧܦlj��.��T��M�

J8�' �D(��.�N.��P� �֭��V1�#�Ld��"��|0/�\��'i� S؏�1��6-�HuRB�, Xxԡ/l~��1�v�J�j�54L�V�݆��K �`(X#KeSU(S��M�n�L_q �I7�Aۋt�i��Ƥq�ħ�޹wWd�da�,��.~h%|rF��_h��@9�3�Z��쮆x�U��y�4�Q.|[/��.Yׁ�2/�U�\Vd��*�KÕ�D�W�ٺ�*x�2��O��?r��G ��ӜX� P��F*O�TR��k:>"��%��`l�܃�`�puJe)��J5��i��i�2kؽ��Yh(��(�&`�Zέ!]��9�K�)��QdH��d�5~��n�S�I�^��k��K��iTJy�q2��d��b��I��s�

�<��`��]�?�W�n\��R��ݧߡ�K4V�V�a8��Xǆ��Uu��!E�h� �gn?ϣ�N��]C(�携O�C�Y�-')��p�Ç>+��8^�v�tż�4pI+�E��w\@Y�.d$Uv�k�6<^�v\w�:��%oiz]f�N

3��Y"&�* T�=;�f@B�[��LF�8)�TA&-5S�M��zX� Ma!��Hߒ�MR4��^��h|V���R4^JѴ��)T��Ӣ�X�5��m�J�r�D�O��WС�L��?�&N�M��7�k�Ā��֌��r�8Q�-n��,Ln�&

��FÛzrħ j�Ly~�pnOK-9۹\:��T�̓G~��Lz��O2��o��޷s��?�B�� !��]��:�+/-$I��o(�K�GP~3��c��t��0#Pۦ�ø|�q��q��{�˗ g/��@�? r��@�= r�r�An@b�95v&�Q3�$��9��Y�9jZ-,df�N��c��z�ԫ�8��$�K�-��g@z�0��,7�U��5"�;$��؁��^��1��m��4��#�׭i�L�.�5�_ZbJ�d�Hj5䳦�+��!�#�R�x��8��k��6\��v\w�ZJ��i!��<��4)�H�Z�n��#d��em��v^�q�Ǻ�C�C'��o({]_��̝�{�v

�[�W�?��N� +��E��߇8��CTJ��;��N~{��2��͇?ݟ��t�'��G$�\O��x�?�7�o-��x��X��@��@��AW��#��`'�>��?��|��z��-��t�n��0�{thq4� RK�c&/��(#x��s��/Z]��Yk��

h��Os��pY��?x�І �e�n��Y�\��=�L1�H�Gݦ&u��T�'Li��ȥ> ��%*�Lv�L��,!хZZ��

!c�N�ju�1ف�?t�S��V��Տ�A�^ӟ�:�#x?�3U&��]�1�Lp@�8.�X��@\�Ĺ��A��[H�^㻸.r]᮱KB(��E

5�ʬ`��CAUf0*�@�O�qT�R�\o�D#�KD�cD��t2ڔ�dy��T|�}hS�l]F-CrϪ�!N)^�O��2�� G��͞�S�b��0��(3�b�D�!��]-�:v�y}Q̘|��"1�'z7�z1u#qe$��B�)E�P")��[�Z�]�B&�F #��E$� ��y� ��4��y��HDS��>��b� �Rs$ ��s�Dd,��,��Î��@��13p��Ff ��]k�Z��3l�X��9R<�!�ӻ��4Rq�Ѥ��j�\�`Y`#�xU��4�&�G��@��Hc� PM)�G:V b��܂Ox�1y��o��0��D�H*OU�-�� 6�m�݂w86�L�Lb] ��S̍�J��s��-W�%��VH`R$zL��eϲ��E��w�0UW�n.�7ur$Us�u��V�s��مnl�\��I+3��Q|n.�� >t�*ٖ�T�%�f��,Y\��2�P��PF_�I}mޣ�I� "�ܩ�kDC�U�cg3��Nu��2l)��7��,r ��

�!�D��$I6�離��F�/�4��fwU5�B�W+��m�\�3�jbcM�J7� �̖� 9Ϸэ$Uhb�ܢMe�Gu�.$K�,Rт��1ڪ֍��fS��S��L�[��Z��3p`~k��K�`?C��D��O��A�F7��Ƃe7-e@.y��9��n�Ƽ�1

�-B`T�`��]!ǅ�v5I�P�Ai��=H�Q��lt"�%�s(J��hP8֦DC �B�MU�p9��r��5lMH��;�>�83��6,�a`�� x?熷U:7�Ӵ�C��[�i*�� q��P�TA�n8-�T�F"лJdx�>��M��t"%�A�� Ë��z��GJr�3�4�}/�jlG�]1��l��ѯ��<� M��ɞ��Z�*E�+��"n�

�p��F��U�ʚX��\YV��M`� 9�h�?��J��,US��[�}}��*VK��$��I��K��A��M�Q�pж�"�

��81��&�� U�:�R/L@��io�-�w�]�.�(��X��J�}%PR~n��h ��S}/��UZ~�|��>pUJ&�t��B�c��v:$�{�&�׬z��k�

�l�i��:�@�~�0�6Ւ��-g��Ō��ݎ�@d��.��=-��߫W��u&�c�e�.0a�[� (��*k�c �ڵU��㵛O��W�Ad�N{�y�;�0�v�[�r\e:�y�PRQc~Z7��W�תq��Iv�x�m,��>bܹy��ᇻ��g�E��KYҁm+�ҟ�b�/)�}Y0Q��1n7�W�5�[�;p�1b�f�y!�F0c�q7�3�!Ȱ��f�`�\pBջ�o}��?luwΝ�7�>̙��ԇ�]�Qx ��@��II�?C�� 5��p��L׊��j��>n�x�m��n�E��ﲮ/Ͽ,q��i�y�Nu��p@3�j�g��yy��[�57��T�� #��[XyQ�X��Y�eZ�LG��U־��n<��ܲ?؁Í��*��K/�:��ѕi��sX��C��CǀQ�2{�ۊnܜ4��u_��M�$V�I�e�;�b|"��H�Z��-�nEj�D Ĺꎚ�.� %WZ#��rM�4j�N.'�rD�D>#*� ʎm,�>��0�@��*�r�&,O�+�!ͅӞ;�;�0�3�>� 2��f�L%>̛�}�b�0�� p��E�mk��s��C>�ܵ�8AJ_q�CyC�Bc��!ɂ�-5 ��3�[�� ݀��&��y��(|mh2�T �R��l��Cgl`{�i�H&Lv%X��3��7v<^AK��ԅ�&�yg�^m��Sv��;��C�e��qd�y��p�]$ �n��ӂ� �j3 $?.?��X��~�ӎ'n͇�j4��#ĕ�GG�]��e��z}��}��~��ӟ}��ӿ�?��x\�`l�� endstream endobj 6 0 obj <>stream

H��Wێ[�|߯�G-`��h��A@s)��^�N�OU�p�

� �=��3��]]��x�=9��N��ǟ��ӕǏ��R�+#/9��z�WE��

?]LC^BKf��u��w��n�ѭ��p�ǟ��Zt��R��>9��;��a��m��_��kw~��=s�Z��˾=��0~�9��h뾻�=�{8ܸ�w��W��fs��g�}��nw��~wª%��:��v��tv��W��\�o��|r��O�<�d�~�� ~�E��i?�nw��n��{�^��(�7��?�� V/\�~ry8}��N��^ۻ��O��G\��ߝ�ڝn~�{x}�p�!��&Gl�'��U��t`��w�c��{��rLv��:��v��-�p��?n�LӢ=H�`T�(\)�JY��&{܋��/��뗯��\��r�b}��j)�,�U��w�x�#��.��T\�m)�g��պ۫��ߛK��1�� ꑝ��*��N۫�{/V\S/k&��7��۫

�/'�N�\�JEȑρ��@�:ߌD�I��{�V�.��*/qD�Srv΀��=��Ůe�£+ܴr�Z%{݂ͭA�WX��{Uݪ*G�V��x�A��[�)�� yߓ-��I��]�6PmI�8U� ��2.U��ċ�.�9GF��_4� am�-oi;�I��r\B��W��}�r��0H��jn��H [2�B�e��P�+�I�s;6��s7�g�@5�|F+�b�P'��Nx�3ad��ǒ�do%�2P��X��b&�s�4D"��T2��`A�u�

eI��D��K� �a'�X�#2tiT,bx�P`��(M\`>�Z�E6F��9�KC�!y�,ڌ��E�4"��/��ըX��v��R�:&:Z�]iX�g֙~e�}��P�?��*��L��8Ct��|+Vޓ��Dn�Rp�O �ˎ��2`�s�j�c>Oa��H�� ; F ~[�y*2��W\��_��1?�巯��g�|��

3G�S�;�Ro�e^]D�Y�"VѶ(�9�O��Z)��c��I�7�"=P̰Y�zɥW�gn�6"�/�+j�t{�i4{(��V#�늪K�`u0�0k��.S/��p<ߐ�K�ڍ�G��.��!0XnA�F��<Ԛp�5i��lQ�V�Mn4��W5�2��l�&��>v�1V�& 1p�z��j�[�ܔrm3M�0\�m��q�%Jz��)У��2Z��r��C��!ɐ��Ú&��e�<�c��Ь�I��!�J��aCP �b��P�z,P�`�n0�E�1��*�Қ��;��Y��7�̢��f/��GC�wh%�X!4�dy�,�II�4sW��Ao�nK�o��Z)�]��h�\�$w:��A ��Z��e�+��(��bQGD@T�]�y �;��#:��j(��f�Q�;j�YZ��l&��|R��g"r�zQ�4��Չ�T�j?��ps�!�C� %

��5�}H�:W�;Aٖ6��DA�)�͸e7� a��s5��L}�2G��Y �9i��^��O�0��D��g�o�w�&EQ��LV��?�*��u��F�j,kM9/S`��R��)�Q6w��V��ժ�hX�

ķi��Eh��'��n]×�j-��D�a�uhߧ�d�3N�.�L J��M��5Z�ӔR~�y�"SZ�T㳾��2&�P4K�u�"�)�5hE妬�9��,�w�L[��8�5¢��f+k��Ws]]fP}g�E��U��4\��7�ѻ�9eG@�iӜh��NrG�A2z[5%�ڲ�1�i JC]8��O<��^_��Z��U4�Y��ˆ²�*rN

[vk�P��a��ɤD'��q~�]�$A�.}iEM��}Q �f4��n��&�b԰4�_�[�G��i�͐�AeW5�g�W�6>H�qMm�-:�9N�f}�V!6^x�-؄Xĝ��̊8�A�d��C� 3ց-��)3��%��W��J�.)��HKmf;�N�U|��s4)��?�ia��H��im�6˅�X�V��:+�_��s��-�`B�N2y(9��Z,pӾE�H]�Xc��&��V��ۦC��I6�YA$�ܴk�y��Y� �+��A�D�%�q3�T�FS鉥� "4��0��.tk�4�I�-V��`\�5��s��u}q0�a\� ��W]oG|篘G

�.3�;��:��ؒ"�b��P��?�J�Uճ+ɗ; �A@bswfz��5mq8��+P�,9�b�Is/�)"g�"�6P�+�X^�_��GWx'�\��p�L:�9�H�@*�QWj�l��TP�;H��l]l*!�b��\j��mcT��A��fSrF��E� "�ۮ�͌��

�CO=�ޤ�"��%%Z57��=`�^W)�>��Q�>��t,ky��!�k+b6oY� ^veڢ

�9��S(#�"�DUoNϏR�{�|/�Uu�<�g]�˶:��)�J�{zט n�H��D�@ *��]��k�F�H��hޤM|&9my�f��M�L��Zhw�{��0�]�e��z7X>J�)��]O͆e�wMz�߸.�4:I<��J��O�?zc��l0�h��G|�>yǏ;̷�﾿��a��4��M�t:g��uz�s��ϸ �0݌�ΝL��>�;��6��ܕ��t�~��՛��.&��ꍻ�ps� �n|~{��/�?��s��h2��;��Rgg�}t��o��b�^��聍�m�"��wF�+v�}�y��%go�Z#��_D�^<'��b <�L�t֟��I��r�F��^.$�23��̪��lM!��yQ|Y��46 Z�.�)͠�� Rmr ��ຮ��=�0u@yl��e��F�NFR ��@�"�@�<#��4��~�|�( Gk�2~��ޠ�j� ��Đ� @�`v�uuwěOx��OE�2-^ɋi[��T��J�MŽ:��:q�/8>Z� T��u�8��YK�D��?7�1�L��a��pC!D]�2I�NL��1~#��oU&Qԟ�+u��N�j�y��U�VD�)D��k��F[I� ?��h�,C��۩��D6�D�V�';�� ]X�L(��s�*b�7k/��P>�hb��T�.�+r��hPhܪ2f��Z�C_�YeO6zchZ3K��Ρk��&4�a�y�O��b��^ߺ黉{s��15`��}�.P��$x7vۢ�;7��&��aH\V��ir{��7��?��?��d�`|�֝��n��p�0��e=��Z`�5CW��@��h[u6�ـ�UAK�m}��X�'E9��^�XR�6��l��#@��f�{+1��\V�aR)�ަlhJ5J(䢕D��%v��Κ4�~I��9�5-�ʸ�VfU�K]��ui�x��7#�ن|��Ymr?O��` �z ��.�e#�+I�R�K��ؘ��ds{��N�ң!tƕ�~3�P��D�R�v3ol�阛��ɋ�#H|e�#Y��գ��\��)K��$+�*J��FZ��[R��d��H%c��u�A!��(�-V+O\�5�z�%��BkW�y3�T�-��^�Z��

��Hj��t�NV,��3U

i@u�V��bB�Ԫ��ǨjT*>t�1��J0�4H�X�=hSľ��G �ȣz.Z,YB6h�H�IT��!�f��b�`s��ӆ��Z�c)��&�|L3�6�BfB�Ar6LV�� v�ՊያH�d�j�=z>֙��B�x�7J.��Qy�N�9�z��HQMQ��! I.v],��U��xMV�2�-�"/��Fs�Sv�n�� }��{wq��jZ�3�+;��6�\�Ih�CQA��p��v�z\/n��;7[��w��p�=hF?��b��b8��)�i��/��=�݃;.��[��j�u��/��~��'��b��_��n�=n��r��?�-�;��kl��O�N��|��5��P��f��V6Q$Ul��rup��/�.��"$8�9(��q�_�1pO[�|�G��q9;��W��Q~�?e�J�[\��\��b�nt�?͏J�

7�jy�$r��}u�4[��w��W��0�q�S��^χ/�gJ��~6?b3fu��!�Ʊ�#�4��- endstream endobj 7 0 obj <> endobj 8 0 obj <>stream

H�|U{T��ݹ�׆q��N� �/�#1D�mV��Z�`Y�<�,,TsH1>�Ɔ&�N�Ƅ�Z5��P�jD7j'=�$�j��~�|��Amm��9��e��aY�2kIJVJV�lw�ǹ��eez�l��تZX�dPG��q�3R5��;M

\j�~��;��5<�:��R�_��v֧�%��"��+�A��Bz]$L�|�G�tL�;��!�2N�H�L�S&$��tJ��Skg��eRa��,K�\MiU{@�݊jP�jO U��&Hl�8Gخ��l��c.D-��Vȕ��/�#_��"|��`��sD�i4��R��A��4�#0��^�

�*_y9l��d_�Q��a�b:G6�m:f�2~��4��.��|��'�/�V�ZV��p�z|�*��x�ix��g�Kud��Y�Q��e{/�L�V�I��Z��

oX�N*[��O��:~~s[q��!�`b)�jk tو�׋�.$�;��P�!� I�d�j��e��{��.��G��ގ�Jx��L��,��

��z(PC�[m�%�-��4P�}x��5k��fG�j�w�h�;�� O[��jȍ�ɻVZ�-|��k��%'�|��7��A��B7:�t��1C�o��c��^�Щ%t�|y�.�כDI��C�e=�GƊr�)��8T�,�Û��(u�8

!�F��)0

11G�URL0��-Ё�L45y��hZ㺅�`�d��rZ��G��ׁ��Z�ȼ�k�~�͐�'��R5� ��aU��o�Ѫ�Q�=N�bhUxխCU�P�גּw"�>�z��&k��I�U��G��4/��5#E�yw��Q��r�^x��u��//��h��޶� ��fc�+��a��o~K�<޲��y��]�cC�-��<^��$�c�-%��D�x+FB�.aN_�&-{E�.US�5��?��Hsy��8��iHCSӶ-oK�ڸ�+�n,��ÿ%��wvHq2 �*v�(��ulf�j��M2O��~

X��f�m�]��#;Q�

��[�7o��;�}!lĔv�?܁x� o��T�+��euc��g�U`j��z��s��[�V�֞��'�i�yT=��A({��8�1N��G��V�՗/|��N ?��N��=��D��3��(|��(��o��+��}_9��??&�_1��?��s�-p�� )�D~��[��t endstream endobj 9 0 obj <> endobj 10 0 obj <>stream

H�\��j�0��z

�C�83 CHZȡ۲�}Ǟd �l琷��B�`��&��w�0�>��cw�ٟ��G��؉?�y�(}?t�c��ݥ�\�ɇ�u��>�FW�>��9��Ӧ��첏�K��?��}v�Mӗ\$�>�M�{9i��v��^�g)�e��0�_4�_į�$�L�2��uj;�m8��s}_��8 ��Ҏ��O]]�ip��m\]�i��

�2^��[p��*WEb��[Yn��*��:�zY%�Ay ^3�� 5�jR .��1��!�!�C�؛1jR� 727¾��E�W:ځw��'��y�?��Ί��d�dx�y2<�<�l�O6O�'�'Ó͓��Fym�*�b�.�q�v�ڝ��[��N��SY A��|'�Y��k endstream endobj 12 0 obj <>stream

H��Wmo�F��_�%��o�$n��pM��E��R�BRv��Y�fj+>�a@��>�~~�1E'�(S)�ZC�N

��'lo�I��G[+lf"��h�d�;�/�8 ��I(G��D2��l�҄v~�䳐�v��7,hYҩ��D�K�r��2�#'��$��:��5�I�e�8�E1��1�;�xg��2��_1I#��@``"e��Q�*�"UG

��a��Z^�X�L┌2�f�4ID5��4)�� CJ��X<U,��)RgN�2��$\�לU�&�&e�t@F)��9 ��[i��v��÷�)`�_��z19_��y�(VbQ�~09l�E.3JX�"gL"��z�w�o~��I@�薒ܒ��[��f|*JEI

U�i�ɡ��r��Iț6b��e-�hڙtb��

�o�"�ľ-��W�;y��XL��?�@�9��EO�6M��@��|��e�Ծ�o��L�LL��ȃ�� >_��k��o;��_��W�o~`��"t�?��ŋ�W��_�}��m;��K��1q��*�{�N(u��%��c��h�9iO�C��봹��߄}Xv��/�@�UC��k��yU��.\�4��{�珄]N_͐e�WM��>� �-�]4�j/{��sR?��|y�h��We�7�c,��P�}��Z=|#a��{м��Wy��M["4��^��;��v��ll݈UC�Oܯ��}��DZu.~&(G�.��o��7�&$M�c�o;��lٴǖy�0�WeSyJ�8�o[7��'�MgTq\�,��m�٢|�]Q��/?�:-N�;?��˪,��*վ��@��+A�:�jv�e�#;��y[lq��=��߅�ը��3!?v9�W��(�!�}q`�69n��P�ז��iw\bN��o��r�e��w�vNuvy3K�� T��R��2τ�H��7�oZ8�:�붩7��7��QG"?>��,uS�!��C��w�o��oN��9lЛ!z��|��u��_5��w��s�We��`�[�C$M?͞6lr�K��X{$�D�\�]�z�<�eط��듙J%�m�ho��6j=�q�p�Q��=lk��ˊ=�k

ҝ_�9w@Ww�ʛ�7��o�y3�6

�L�|3�7��Mmi�L��4n��,q"��T��aܤE7�6�t��ԑ�@��Qz�6�)�Mh��Q��@Γ(17,^��L�f��#�`��$&��@bL�:�{$�(FI�d�b5��1��(e%Q4��1"1J��J�((�J��9>�$�R�DS��#�$��M�fA�L s5�2IhlU��

��)��(L�'fKe,i��t<��P�9%��8

v��b��Zb�hh#��a �0e�)ð<��\�.�8�rX�4ҙ�

��腒��1��>@ހ�,6;�Oq` ��i\�"C�QL�>6a�#��ڰ*&�k�#��

��''F�i,�F�a~�� ~ ��[�wC� BiC[r^�2'}\�q�e�I��di&� 1E�7��Q ;�F��2jp��[&)�r��ӓ-�q��m ��h7�p<��"��DshTG*@��32��Xs�kdO&��,E��"�U2"B$=�H��Ѷ�6/&�ɯ�{�x��ŷ�_Q�Cʃ�gQ"�� L��..>��W��cW�Pq�EH�a2C��;��b&!{ڈ>��4�NL}�G(�eE�}�@�I)�t�ȋ>a勲�.��[��>P��Ҕ��]��b�j�QovKn�=��24@}�K��m�c�/}�J?�E��:�ո�(��E��S��6��n�sч��':��BӘH�8T=�zq]b\�S��'�a�۫�k�z>A�B">�#a��c��;�C�`VF�D�=x��x��%M�y�0�c��S��(vi�Lh��=�fx�W ��a8�)d`HEO�K��7�u�Y�ݥ�;O�E�ِ��az" �]G-?�� r��|�'Wd�\��$?�T�

�};C5=��4��oZ��|��"f��6��(�f��'Z\�#�E<0�V/��bs7P�L��(�Q��߱ ��Sw�'��ԫ� endstream endobj 14 0 obj <>stream

H��Wko[��_�e ��0Ԯ��@�G�[4ue3�H��3��TA�A�swvvv�̙٫��x�9:��TJƿ�W玛��k,�?��bkSŅ<��a^ݮ^]��ÿ��vu��z��6��Wo��K�ꏯݪ��am

�7Wj�J,�]߯.܋��Vo��l��^ l��Y��-(y�9��G��wㆴ�K�燽�x�;>fw��>��}x�_�p��ֻ�v}�ֻw�>�/�w��_��a�9ӥ��S��ݼ��oݷ��®�|jp��:R�}"�䰷��7�ÍC8��כ�v�;*��Q[o6�� f�p7C� ��/�vǝ��郛��Х��,��f�,��S�= ��^�^C�]��;�?noכ�ۍ��?n-^��fw7��?��l��J�4!3�O�a�=��#sw||��Gd�W�4�p�wn�q>��w�{��@�}��' O{{�j^��-"w�O��0��'G��ݳ��v�~!w?�l��>>��nޜ��?��@*Z?k\�?��w�ӧ%�H� E~��>�o�L賶n��s��w��_�i�w;��fm��r�f>�,��/�d��ϚUe��[}�v��<�.48�+u?�͛{ټ_]��c�L��S*�]�)�i|��mV�ː�T;uz�X'"x�G��F7Ů�Ц��1��r��f��i�!�<�^�!q��8�N�g8�(��ũ�;y��T*��YX��X��O{��&Ŝ��\�棄� $�K�)F?t��bN�@=�~�1҄�0�uj�AHI+��b(r1��ys8%3�J50�HX�� R5�)��e?Lu��c%�|��X�;�$?��D�k/\e� �,�7I)�Y��;/j��1v�"��d��fִ2Z��H�?:

pm�<]�۳��n�R�k��ز��H^� �1�'��N��}�Z�Z��qI��^8��V��a� 5YP3�Z�

ᴤ�+4 �h��z�-4��m

A��*�E�G�?�O4Hm��Vy�T��j6+� =dGQ�sp[�eDC�[��4�� Y�*��$��n��(��j91�ؗ dp��;�H�a��

?�NU��،,��j��Xmݸ�g��KGi�W��I��zS��h}��$eE�9�J��j^�bEq�ka}C�L��

��;Kg<� Qɔ$�9��R5j+�t�V��V ՜-�{� ).\��ּ5�2x��y�3f�V��L7U��|hH��5��'Օ�۪QK6^��5�VVE� Y3F F/B_r�C2Y)K`H��)�=�PL7EA0ƅ�l5jg�Z6��E��r� I

�-wF!W��@nE(,AR6��WԵ�z��

j-�0#��~� {��{�w: ��yV�lY��\�{��[��$�d"�C�߁}.�^��;�"��[�B�z�UI��o�AU�

I��$�F��0�Xɫ�a�BSO�b�G�'%��I 6��]��,ё�#��ts�'�w�&8%�3dMbb��"e�fm�#�BPE�.mQ� �Ί�(�� >��2ər�H��/��,{C��)j�')&�kYf��ũ--�{�`yk3Ip�F��;�d"S�UY�

31�A�.�Jd�xa��l��:}�q?7�?�9O��B��,��.EPB�� |X�z��X��Ui�(a�I�xI��V�$��m\Y̪y@6��L�"��QS^z��u��s&V� WggK_�4U`?�\�c�R��S� Q�lF��.@*{uW{6F(� �zbEdIRL�U�>x�8�b�>s.o�

0a �g��ҕ�B�s�l��,�Q�&��4rR�� ܀ICg�)b�6��\M3-�=t�F$>�0cy�l�x`S�`X��@

�R�V��/�-'�ؗѥ�2��P�a��^��_�f�(0�hɕ�Y�O$��5 P��dlV��gZHFW| ��/��6�2k0��BSĠw�=��9&��Hǅ��[ F&Z�г��^ϻ��$C��0��S1�c��z.z{��ף^QC�&�^;lߺ�W�e��`�j��YI�7V��R��w-"X�&ԒTI��2��]ŀ��l:�j��"�f��/�9��`}��vp� Ʒ��L�[I�ve�,'ݢ,ޭ8�V��/�b��ˢ�>�Xk��n��;@P2q��]OX��sJ��g��fu��;�{u��;�Tǝ�q�[]}�ޫm�q��+�Qr��8)��)6�b#�(Ң�e*fC�*I�q��g(ɹ8��n_BE�rfΜ�%��O�?Jsn�#J3B��1O�hx� �N�ADq��y�k�S��O/g��I�L��ǋ)�;g�xD��C&�.��n.f�g�s3��EJ�!��e�\ԙ'SJ'uNk�䗒T� ��;29��-��M<�z�\4W%��\�(T�i�3Z��X�7�o/T�ycc�<��'YJ+�^��d��(�S%�3��`��zoOW*�ʔ��J��|Q5p�PN��K��T��3y0�=O2�E�D�l��4i�p{��y��S!�9�%��/�*Or\~�̄�eӠ��-q�K�i�R��

�2~� ��t�A��O��,l��ek�Qq�3��7�\(�i��W��zr��:h��E�H;��_��ӷ�}y�"s+�Ґ��{��?{��ʤlV�XH�*��u+T��}��"�͎^�p.��B�

p�ު��i{Тg�F

�[�o`�}��'T�ײ��:4'<M��8�>�=I�q7X@��ŏN#4"�

H|S�(��f�2Z��Q�0V*t.a@@��%�-��E��0�Z��}��[��^��sgo�:�s�:ns��Ҕ��m7P]��z�h07��X�)n�Z�w��W��=��a�h��ZuS\�{�q^"�3t�u�m��o)��>��l�,4k��?�fɚ�Ř�O�׷��h��Eʹ[6qzsϨi^�%Y�]��\�y;а�p:�$v"��O�Ъ\��A�B.0��R0 ��MocZ��-��vJ�eA��!f��+��-�X��%��-� endstream endobj 15 0 obj [/Indexed/DeviceRGB 255 16 0 R] endobj 16 0 obj <>stream

H��R[�BA�,`��X��X�B,`�d��z�^��|��q�c endstream endobj 19 0 obj <>stream

H�ԕQ� C=¾��O�u��DD��d��k!UOU��x

$ǡn ��a`h��s�摅��ou�H��c-��=3$5搆��bP�

j/P��n�.S�嶡�02��(6�G�J��Q��ey� endstream endobj 20 0 obj <>stream

H��VK� ��ߗ��u*A ��p(n:��+��8)��Q�

�H0��8Q��ܒ��9!��r��z م�2�!��=*�S��+jעܸ�EA�h��ٜ�12��|t��?e��X6-��T�|�w{��w�y��G�}�/�"V�r�sa��\T'�K`�aWQ�.�L�v3��؞�+��(�_܊�ê�^臗��!��t��d�� endstream endobj 21 0 obj <>stream

H��V[� ��_x�Sq�*Eb��͔�e�"��S��x�:�2i7q�\��c..y$��9��I�l� #D��ng� rC\�tB�9 "C��tE�>�*'(�H��Gg�9�+�S��D��b>��$�heR�+S-RS

}T`Zd��Q��y�B��jm�k+9��e�ޞ��C&P�63��Ƥwۊ�N��2��:��8'�޲�h��7��c�B7`[.�Lx��˃��>stream

H��K� D{��u

��`^f��y_�H#�{.XA�(ՙJ(��TdTu��B��:��[��N��+w�>�@2��E��Sv� ��v��*��ynԘ*�s ��Ы;�ő�AEw��~�[\�_J��G.8GpG��s�9��iR��/s��yK��]7s�_${�>7�/�/.�3w��u�豼�_�v\�_�*F'��e�/+��=�{�ҋ�|Y�/7��3G�/.��/��9�] endstream endobj 23 0 obj <>stream

H��A� C{��{8שh��hx��d�y�$5 ��3��rDE�rʣE�І��ËE��D�� h��*��:��/�u�*��ޙV_�'��<��P��}��@"a��|O0��0��LL�H3�wX��GT�#��BEA��exa�2Wj�stream

H��0D)��_�8:�,�H��>Hƈ�U��O��I V�)a�4�8�0Rz^�^�'%]��dcuU 3�!��U�G�yr=��`��,�lZ�Վ�JY

�#�!s��S&F&š��Hc�MPI��5�' @:9��5��@

i�$�}�U�ꬿ��R�1jʮ� endstream endobj 26 0 obj <>stream

uuid:d7873e54-6f66-5d43-8d49-425fd80e91d4

adobe:docid:indd:e77dc1a4-54cc-11db-bbee-91c2406da3dd

xmp.id:e0a7d60d-7e72-49fd-9efb-1483007106e5

proof:pdf

xmp.iid:b30dbadf-9273-4196-80af-5e075c759940

xmp.did:babf7e8b-d6c7-40b4-bcc2-771f579afa57

adobe:docid:indd:e77dc1a4-54cc-11db-bbee-91c2406da3dd

default

converted

from application/x-indesign to application/pdf

Adobe InDesign CC 14.0 (Macintosh)

2019-03-12T16:12:43+13:00

2019-03-12T16:14:10+13:00

Adobe InDesign CC 14.0 (Macintosh)

application/pdf

Adobe PDF Library 15.0

False

MyriadPro-Regular

FreightSansProBook-Regular

FreightSansProBold-Regular

FreightSansProLight-Regular

MyriadPro-Light

<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<!DOCTYPE plist PUBLIC "-//Apple//DTD PLIST 1.0//EN" "http://www.apple.com/DTDs/PropertyList-1.0.dtd">
<plist version="1.0">
<dict>
	<key>CTFontCopyrightName</key>
	<string>Copyright © 2004-2010, Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Garagefonts USA 301-879-9222 www.garagefonts.com</string>
	<key>CTFontDescriptionName</key>
	<string>Copyright (c) 2004-2010 by Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc. All rights reserved.</string>
	<key>CTFontDesignerName</key>
	<string>Joshua Darden</string>
	<key>CTFontDesignerURLName</key>
	<string>http://www.joshuadarden.com</string>
	<key>CTFontFamilyName</key>
	<string>FreightSans Pro</string>
	<key>CTFontFullName</key>
	<string>FreightSans Pro Book</string>
	<key>CTFontGetGlyphCount</key>
	<integer>622</integer>
	<key>CTFontLicenseNameName</key>
	<string>---------------------GARAGEFONTS---------------------Phil's Fonts/GarageFonts End User License AgreementSoftware means the computer program contained in this package (which may include digitally encoded, machine readable, scalable outline font data as encoded in special format), together with all codes, techniques, software tools, formats, designs, concepts, methods and ideas associated with the computer program and all documentation related thereto.Phil's Fonts, Inc./GarageFonts (Phil's), hereby grants you, and you agree to accept a non-exclusive, non-transferable, limited license (the License) to use the Software solely for your own customary business or personal purposes. Under the terms of this License Agreement, you have the right to use the software on up to five (5) CPUs.If you need to have access to the Software on more than five (5) CPUs, you must pay Phil's the applicable fees for typefaces used in a multi-system environment. You acknowledge that licensing fees for the Macintosh and PC formats are separate and individual fees.Fonts can be embedded in files such as Adobe Acrobat PDF files for viewing and printing purposes only.No rights are granted to you other than a License to use the Software  on the terms expressly set forth in this Agreement.You agree to maintain the Software and other proprietary information in strict confidence and to establish reasonable procedures regulating access to and use of the Software.You will not make or have made, or permit to have made any copies of the Software or portions thereof, except as necessary provided, however, that you may make one copy for back-up purposes for its use with the authorized number of systems hereunder. You agree that any such copies shall contain the same proprietary notices which appear in the Software.Except as stated above, this Agreement does not grant you any right to patents, copyrights, trade secrets, trade names, trademarks (whether registered or unregistered), or any other rights, franchises or licenses in respect of the Software.You agree that you will not modify, alter, disassemble, decrypt, reverse engineer or decompile the Software.This License shall continue until the last use of the Software, unless sooner terminated. This License may be terminated by Phil's if you fail to comply with the terms of this License and such failure is not remedied within thirty (30) days after notice from Phil's. When this License expires or is terminated, you shall either return to Phil's or destroy all copies of the Software as requested.You agree that you will not export or re-export the Software in any form without the appropriate United States and foreign government licenses.The parties agree that all warranties, express or implied, including warranties of fitness for a particular purpose, merchantability and noninfringement are excluded.Your sole and exclusive remedy and the sole liability of Phil's in connection with the Software is repair or replacement of defective parts, upon their return to Phil's. In no event will Phil's be liable for lost profits, lost data or any other incidental, or consequential damages, or any damages caused by abuse or misapplication of the Software.You shall not sublicense, sell, lease or otherwise transfer the Software without the prior written consent of Phil's.Use, duplication or disclosure by the Government is subject to restrictions as set forth in subparagraph (c)(1)(ii) of the rights in Technical Data and Computer Software clause at  252.227-7013. Maryland, USA law governs this agreement.You acknowledge that you have read this agreement, understand it, and agree to be bound by its terms and conditions. Neither party shall be bound by any statement or representation not contained in this agreement. No change in this agreement is effective unless written and signed by properly authorized representatives of each party. By opening this package or downloading these font files from the internet you agree to accept the terms of this agreement.Call Phil's Fonts if you need to purchase additional licensing.In USA and Canada call 1-800-424-2977, all others call 1-301-879-9222. Fax: 1-301-879-9227.Phil's Fonts/GarageFonts License Upgrade ScheduleEach Phil's Fonts/GarageFonts Font package is automatically licensed for use with five (5) computers (CPUs) at a single (1) location(site) in a single format (e.g. Mac PostScript). Licenses for additional CPUs must be purchased. Individual sites, persons or business entities must purchase individual licenses beginning with the original price. The following upgrade cost schedule is calculated based on multiples of the original list price of each font or family:-------------------------------------------------6 to 25 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 1-------------------------------------------------26 to 50 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 2-------------------------------------------------51 to 75 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 3-------------------------------------------------76 to 125 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 4-------------------------------------------------126 to 175 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 5-------------------------------------------------176 to 250 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 6-------------------------------------------------251 to 375 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 8.5-------------------------------------------------376 to 500 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 11-------------------------------------------------501 to 625 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 13.5-------------------------------------------------626 to 750 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 16-------------------------------------------------751 to 875 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 18.5-------------------------------------------------876 to 1000 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 21 -------------------------------------------------For more than 1,000 CPUs use the following formula to get multiplication factor:CPUs: In increments of 250.(maximum number of CPUs divided by 100) plus 11 (=Multiplier).Example: End user has 1350 CPUs, so the Multiple User License price is to be calculated as follows:(1500 divided by 100) + 11 = 26 (= Multiplier)(c)Phil's Fonts/GarageFontsP.O. Box 247Sandy Spring MD 20860Ph. 301-879-9222800-424-2977Fax 301-879-9227</string>
	<key>CTFontLicenseURLName</key>
	<string>https://www.garagefonts.com</string>
	<key>CTFontManufacturerName</key>
	<string>Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc</string>
	<key>CTFontPostScriptName</key>
	<string>FreightSansProBook-Regular</string>
	<key>CTFontSubFamilyName</key>
	<string>Book</string>
	<key>CTFontTrademarkName</key>
	<string>Freight is a trademark of Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc.</string>
	<key>CTFontUniqueName</key>
	<string>JoshuaDarden&amp;Phil'sFonts,Inc: FreightSans Pro Book: 2009</string>
	<key>CTFontVendorURLName</key>
	<string>http://www.garagefonts.com</string>
	<key>CTFontVersionName</key>
	<string>Version 3.002</string>
	<key>bold trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>condensed trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>extended trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>full name</key>
	<string>FreightSans Pro Book</string>
	<key>italic trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>monospaced trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>postscriptName</key>
	<string>FreightSansProBook-Regular</string>
	<key>proportion trait</key>
	<real>0.0</real>
	<key>slant trait</key>
	<real>0.0</real>
	<key>version</key>
	<string>Version 3.002</string>
	<key>vertical trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>weight trait</key>
	<real>-0.23000000417232513</real>
</dict>
</plist>


<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<!DOCTYPE plist PUBLIC "-//Apple//DTD PLIST 1.0//EN" "http://www.apple.com/DTDs/PropertyList-1.0.dtd">
<plist version="1.0">
<dict>
	<key>CTFontCopyrightName</key>
	<string>Copyright © 2004-2009, Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Garagefonts USA 301-879-9222 www.garagefonts.com</string>
	<key>CTFontDescriptionName</key>
	<string>Copyright (c) 2004-2009 by Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc. All rights reserved.</string>
	<key>CTFontDesignerName</key>
	<string>Joshua Darden</string>
	<key>CTFontDesignerURLName</key>
	<string>http://www.joshuadarden.com</string>
	<key>CTFontFamilyName</key>
	<string>FreightSans Pro</string>
	<key>CTFontFullName</key>
	<string>FreightSans Pro Bold</string>
	<key>CTFontGetGlyphCount</key>
	<integer>622</integer>
	<key>CTFontLicenseNameName</key>
	<string>---------------------GARAGEFONTS---------------------Phil's Fonts/GarageFonts End User License AgreementSoftware means the computer program contained in this package (which may include digitally encoded, machine readable, scalable outline font data as encoded in special format), together with all codes, techniques, software tools, formats, designs, concepts, methods and ideas associated with the computer program and all documentation related thereto.Phil's Fonts, Inc./GarageFonts (Phil's), hereby grants you, and you agree to accept a non-exclusive, non-transferable, limited license (the License) to use the Software solely for your own customary business or personal purposes. Under the terms of this License Agreement, you have the right to use the software on up to five (5) CPUs.If you need to have access to the Software on more than five (5) CPUs, you must pay Phil's the applicable fees for typefaces used in a multi-system environment. You acknowledge that licensing fees for the Macintosh and PC formats are separate and individual fees.Fonts can be embedded in files such as Adobe Acrobat PDF files for viewing and printing purposes only.No rights are granted to you other than a License to use the Software  on the terms expressly set forth in this Agreement.You agree to maintain the Software and other proprietary information in strict confidence and to establish reasonable procedures regulating access to and use of the Software.You will not make or have made, or permit to have made any copies of the Software or portions thereof, except as necessary provided, however, that you may make one copy for back-up purposes for its use with the authorized number of systems hereunder. You agree that any such copies shall contain the same proprietary notices which appear in the Software.Except as stated above, this Agreement does not grant you any right to patents, copyrights, trade secrets, trade names, trademarks (whether registered or unregistered), or any other rights, franchises or licenses in respect of the Software.You agree that you will not modify, alter, disassemble, decrypt, reverse engineer or decompile the Software.This License shall continue until the last use of the Software, unless sooner terminated. This License may be terminated by Phil's if you fail to comply with the terms of this License and such failure is not remedied within thirty (30) days after notice from Phil's. When this License expires or is terminated, you shall either return to Phil's or destroy all copies of the Software as requested.You agree that you will not export or re-export the Software in any form without the appropriate United States and foreign government licenses.The parties agree that all warranties, express or implied, including warranties of fitness for a particular purpose, merchantability and noninfringement are excluded.Your sole and exclusive remedy and the sole liability of Phil's in connection with the Software is repair or replacement of defective parts, upon their return to Phil's. In no event will Phil's be liable for lost profits, lost data or any other incidental, or consequential damages, or any damages caused by abuse or misapplication of the Software.You shall not sublicense, sell, lease or otherwise transfer the Software without the prior written consent of Phil's.Use, duplication or disclosure by the Government is subject to restrictions as set forth in subparagraph (c)(1)(ii) of the rights in Technical Data and Computer Software clause at  252.227-7013. Maryland, USA law governs this agreement.You acknowledge that you have read this agreement, understand it, and agree to be bound by its terms and conditions. Neither party shall be bound by any statement or representation not contained in this agreement. No change in this agreement is effective unless written and signed by properly authorized representatives of each party. By opening this package or downloading these font files from the internet you agree to accept the terms of this agreement.Call Phil's Fonts if you need to purchase additional licensing.In USA and Canada call 1-800-424-2977, all others call 1-301-879-9222. Fax: 1-301-879-9227.Phil's Fonts/GarageFonts License Upgrade ScheduleEach Phil's Fonts/GarageFonts Font package is automatically licensed for use with five (5) computers (CPUs) at a single (1) location(site) in a single format (e.g. Mac PostScript). Licenses for additional CPUs must be purchased. Individual sites, persons or business entities must purchase individual licenses beginning with the original price. The following upgrade cost schedule is calculated based on multiples of the original list price of each font or family:-------------------------------------------------6 to 25 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 1-------------------------------------------------26 to 50 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 2-------------------------------------------------51 to 75 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 3-------------------------------------------------76 to 125 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 4-------------------------------------------------126 to 175 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 5-------------------------------------------------176 to 250 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 6-------------------------------------------------251 to 375 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 8.5-------------------------------------------------376 to 500 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 11-------------------------------------------------501 to 625 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 13.5-------------------------------------------------626 to 750 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 16-------------------------------------------------751 to 875 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 18.5-------------------------------------------------876 to 1000 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 21 -------------------------------------------------For more than 1,000 CPUs use the following formula to get multiplication factor:CPUs: In increments of 250.(maximum number of CPUs divided by 100) plus 11 (=Multiplier).Example: End user has 1350 CPUs, so the Multiple User License price is to be calculated as follows:(1500 divided by 100) + 11 = 26 (= Multiplier)(c)Phil's Fonts/GarageFontsP.O. Box 247Sandy Spring MD 20860Ph. 301-879-9222800-424-2977Fax 301-879-9227</string>
	<key>CTFontLicenseURLName</key>
	<string>https://www.garagefonts.com</string>
	<key>CTFontManufacturerName</key>
	<string>Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc</string>
	<key>CTFontPostScriptName</key>
	<string>FreightSansProBold-Regular</string>
	<key>CTFontSubFamilyName</key>
	<string>Bold</string>
	<key>CTFontTrademarkName</key>
	<string>Freight is a trademark of Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc.</string>
	<key>CTFontUniqueName</key>
	<string>JoshuaDarden&amp;Phil'sFonts,Inc: FreightSans Pro Bold: 2009</string>
	<key>CTFontVendorURLName</key>
	<string>http://www.garagefonts.com</string>
	<key>CTFontVersionName</key>
	<string>Version 3.000</string>
	<key>bold trait</key>
	<true/>
	<key>condensed trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>extended trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>full name</key>
	<string>FreightSans Pro Bold</string>
	<key>italic trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>monospaced trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>postscriptName</key>
	<string>FreightSansProBold-Regular</string>
	<key>proportion trait</key>
	<real>0.0</real>
	<key>slant trait</key>
	<real>0.0</real>
	<key>version</key>
	<string>Version 3.000</string>
	<key>vertical trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>weight trait</key>
	<real>0.40000000596046448</real>
</dict>
</plist>


<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<!DOCTYPE plist PUBLIC "-//Apple//DTD PLIST 1.0//EN" "http://www.apple.com/DTDs/PropertyList-1.0.dtd">
<plist version="1.0">
<dict>
	<key>CTFontCopyrightName</key>
	<string>Copyright © 2004-2009, Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc. All rights reserved. Published by Garagefonts USA 301-879-9222 www.garagefonts.com</string>
	<key>CTFontDescriptionName</key>
	<string>Copyright (c) 2004-2009 by Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc. All rights reserved.</string>
	<key>CTFontDesignerName</key>
	<string>Joshua Darden</string>
	<key>CTFontDesignerURLName</key>
	<string>http://www.joshuadarden.com</string>
	<key>CTFontFamilyName</key>
	<string>FreightSans Pro</string>
	<key>CTFontFullName</key>
	<string>FreightSans Pro Light</string>
	<key>CTFontGetGlyphCount</key>
	<integer>622</integer>
	<key>CTFontLicenseNameName</key>
	<string>---------------------GARAGEFONTS---------------------Phil's Fonts/GarageFonts End User License AgreementSoftware means the computer program contained in this package (which may include digitally encoded, machine readable, scalable outline font data as encoded in special format), together with all codes, techniques, software tools, formats, designs, concepts, methods and ideas associated with the computer program and all documentation related thereto.Phil's Fonts, Inc./GarageFonts (Phil's), hereby grants you, and you agree to accept a non-exclusive, non-transferable, limited license (the License) to use the Software solely for your own customary business or personal purposes. Under the terms of this License Agreement, you have the right to use the software on up to five (5) CPUs.If you need to have access to the Software on more than five (5) CPUs, you must pay Phil's the applicable fees for typefaces used in a multi-system environment. You acknowledge that licensing fees for the Macintosh and PC formats are separate and individual fees.Fonts can be embedded in files such as Adobe Acrobat PDF files for viewing and printing purposes only.No rights are granted to you other than a License to use the Software  on the terms expressly set forth in this Agreement.You agree to maintain the Software and other proprietary information in strict confidence and to establish reasonable procedures regulating access to and use of the Software.You will not make or have made, or permit to have made any copies of the Software or portions thereof, except as necessary provided, however, that you may make one copy for back-up purposes for its use with the authorized number of systems hereunder. You agree that any such copies shall contain the same proprietary notices which appear in the Software.Except as stated above, this Agreement does not grant you any right to patents, copyrights, trade secrets, trade names, trademarks (whether registered or unregistered), or any other rights, franchises or licenses in respect of the Software.You agree that you will not modify, alter, disassemble, decrypt, reverse engineer or decompile the Software.This License shall continue until the last use of the Software, unless sooner terminated. This License may be terminated by Phil's if you fail to comply with the terms of this License and such failure is not remedied within thirty (30) days after notice from Phil's. When this License expires or is terminated, you shall either return to Phil's or destroy all copies of the Software as requested.You agree that you will not export or re-export the Software in any form without the appropriate United States and foreign government licenses.The parties agree that all warranties, express or implied, including warranties of fitness for a particular purpose, merchantability and noninfringement are excluded.Your sole and exclusive remedy and the sole liability of Phil's in connection with the Software is repair or replacement of defective parts, upon their return to Phil's. In no event will Phil's be liable for lost profits, lost data or any other incidental, or consequential damages, or any damages caused by abuse or misapplication of the Software.You shall not sublicense, sell, lease or otherwise transfer the Software without the prior written consent of Phil's.Use, duplication or disclosure by the Government is subject to restrictions as set forth in subparagraph (c)(1)(ii) of the rights in Technical Data and Computer Software clause at  252.227-7013. Maryland, USA law governs this agreement.You acknowledge that you have read this agreement, understand it, and agree to be bound by its terms and conditions. Neither party shall be bound by any statement or representation not contained in this agreement. No change in this agreement is effective unless written and signed by properly authorized representatives of each party. By opening this package or downloading these font files from the internet you agree to accept the terms of this agreement.Call Phil's Fonts if you need to purchase additional licensing.In USA and Canada call 1-800-424-2977, all others call 1-301-879-9222. Fax: 1-301-879-9227.Phil's Fonts/GarageFonts License Upgrade ScheduleEach Phil's Fonts/GarageFonts Font package is automatically licensed for use with five (5) computers (CPUs) at a single (1) location(site) in a single format (e.g. Mac PostScript). Licenses for additional CPUs must be purchased. Individual sites, persons or business entities must purchase individual licenses beginning with the original price. The following upgrade cost schedule is calculated based on multiples of the original list price of each font or family:-------------------------------------------------6 to 25 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 1-------------------------------------------------26 to 50 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 2-------------------------------------------------51 to 75 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 3-------------------------------------------------76 to 125 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 4-------------------------------------------------126 to 175 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 5-------------------------------------------------176 to 250 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 6-------------------------------------------------251 to 375 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 8.5-------------------------------------------------376 to 500 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 11-------------------------------------------------501 to 625 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 13.5-------------------------------------------------626 to 750 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 16-------------------------------------------------751 to 875 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 18.5-------------------------------------------------876 to 1000 CPUs, multiply original font or family price by 21 -------------------------------------------------For more than 1,000 CPUs use the following formula to get multiplication factor:CPUs: In increments of 250.(maximum number of CPUs divided by 100) plus 11 (=Multiplier).Example: End user has 1350 CPUs, so the Multiple User License price is to be calculated as follows:(1500 divided by 100) + 11 = 26 (= Multiplier)(c)Phil's Fonts/GarageFontsP.O. Box 247Sandy Spring MD 20860Ph. 301-879-9222800-424-2977Fax 301-879-9227</string>
	<key>CTFontLicenseURLName</key>
	<string>https://www.garagefonts.com</string>
	<key>CTFontManufacturerName</key>
	<string>Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc</string>
	<key>CTFontPostScriptName</key>
	<string>FreightSansProLight-Regular</string>
	<key>CTFontSubFamilyName</key>
	<string>Light</string>
	<key>CTFontTrademarkName</key>
	<string>Freight is a trademark of Joshua Darden &amp; Phil's Fonts, Inc.</string>
	<key>CTFontUniqueName</key>
	<string>JoshuaDarden&amp;Phil'sFonts,Inc: FreightSans Pro Light: 2009</string>
	<key>CTFontVendorURLName</key>
	<string>http://www.garagefonts.com</string>
	<key>CTFontVersionName</key>
	<string>Version 3.000</string>
	<key>bold trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>condensed trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>extended trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>full name</key>
	<string>FreightSans Pro Light</string>
	<key>italic trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>monospaced trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>postscriptName</key>
	<string>FreightSansProLight-Regular</string>
	<key>proportion trait</key>
	<real>0.0</real>
	<key>slant trait</key>
	<real>0.0</real>
	<key>version</key>
	<string>Version 3.000</string>
	<key>vertical trait</key>
	<false/>
	<key>weight trait</key>
	<real>-0.40000000596046448</real>
</dict>
</plist>


endstream endobj 27 0 obj <> endobj 29 0 obj <>>> endobj 33 0 obj <>stream

H�\��n�@��~�9&��3݉d!�H�G��{ ��ms��˅i��؞��i��n��٥��e�NMt�x��$/\�5�}�|7�zLR[��]�x��!�*��y��u;�c��8u��=��]��G<�~v�[�\�f��e�Ӯ��|{�5_o��<'L3��2�M��*��Uo�Y%�o�{.��{=%U��^�2�6+��}�_l^d��Ӟ�C?S?C�P/�o��Ul��Æ�*�_¿̩s�5�ڴ�}��.�K��ll>Ph�h�Vh�{�{�{�{��}_�_�Y�G]�uy��Y�G]�uy�XW@]��́�́�́�́��ll��L��B��_�/��ch�%�K�� f"�D�� a&˹f"�D�g

��<�Y��"%��_ɯ�W�+��

~%��_ɯ�W�+��

~%��_�o�~��4Y�-m��?�8��V�J� 0A*� endstream endobj 34 0 obj <> endobj 35 0 obj [/ICCBased 57 0 R] endobj 36 0 obj <> endobj 37 0 obj <> endobj 38 0 obj <> endobj 39 0 obj <>stream

H�\��j�0��~

�Cq�]z��1ȡ]i�pl%3,�Q�C޾�:��6��yk�'�7��'�8��-B��'u8��6�]��h��˔pl��@�E�/�yu�í��= ��:�[��H �P�గ�.&^͈��k��>-;a��KD8��S4�Ѐ��K�P�K�

��W��>��ٽ�gN��Pvf�>stream

H��W�n9}�W��>��M�� qf�@fvm-��Y,�%q��ٲ��=�n9rbM�`�E.�T��N�.�n��0Ib��ȕ��g|Z� >�ʲ0+�q(��:3YN��'�s�oA��F7�^]�T�[]��ջ�w�ȣׯ_ӛ�W4��Dd��2L�4�y= h:��=�.��A댽*�i�� $��}�~?�"��]@�GP�Q�B��ccw�[SV�1��n�:C��z�چ�g��_�Ӂ~_��m*��=��m��Ro� i��N;��vf��/��;d��q�S�u=-��/5kA�¡��@,bh�řbqdld��붳��Hnzk;S��4��4��ՉX�5�Ƭ�BW_��+b��j}�'��4��P�.��%�k|��#�<=O,��"�

u�� d�[=�A��ª��7��<cд�m�6]��{=�|z�$E�,��wj��O8��PDI�3�a�� YO�0|�<��Of��:�_N��Ta��4H�4�$�`|)'�'f�'?�W}��[��$��Ȼ%ruX��űm�* ��#p��V�,9�Y�K�g�3if��Ѣ~�x�a�)K��

9@2�"Q� (a�<�o2�oi\��)�� x�l�R�̱R��%�Df�K��$��[��*��8��~ v9�Q/'0W�P�1�ȳ4,�V�}��M��=i�@#�fy�H��b��f$�s�d�8��X�B

KX��,I�)~G1Q�,�5/$+B��J�A�]��(tX�8|d�0�^E�G��AF�6��l��@��8��"��Y᭧��gyF&��e�X��

��R~ʋ�{��J��Tc�p�p�`9�<]c&��1�#Yx��b*M�L�=��#uc� B�T�+֑&�� P{8��6�=s�Pr`�@)F�� pl��ς 2#>�zH+ԙ��O�q�$O�Ĩ��g}%j�|��k�*V��ĨXI��8��!�\��j>=]��[��E�RZ_��S k:c��57u�e�k�~}A�.�/�.��־�|��fx��;#]Uܐ:��J��p��L��Aa��l�~��_b?z��fS�4>��{,��N�xOgj�}<��~7��3��]��?n��v�h��il�6~X,��Y��u`��s�?I�z�~��^��E|쏍�?�;�g�G <{0�%��+�o4��;��]��q�Cu�,,��k�^WԴ��u��Iz��YJ�o�y9�#�Qՙ ?2v�j�Ƚbh��%��%9��v��v�3t*��&��U��c)��M��,�]��#c߅ �Q��i�<��A0C��p ��Q��v�b�Mc��@�1ʦ�=bڭ�� }�X��'��%��ꖾ��ID;��==�� ˸�&/�x��DE��$��bJ��>�{� endstream endobj 42 0 obj <>stream

H�\�ˎ�0E��

/�-��I��<4��Nib�C��z�A�T��(��~��b��a�n��]�[�=��MQ�a��,=�K7�,��]��4��ُ�x]��>m��M�-.��l�~m�6;��8��ܶ��)&��_��Y

{�q}\�/1��?ﳳe��]�w��gg�<^�m>��+a��i��r��{ݚ��<��-xGށ��`��4�"q"oț�sV�Y��+pE��5�+Y��W�ϊ�Vطf��k欑�f�y�n7)�%�>a� V�#�y�̜�r�M�&tK5�]pvy#��YOA=��SXOA=��=p.��R�+��

��_��W�+��

�5�*�b��5h��g�[�]�/��:z��lcn�W�y��2 endstream endobj 43 0 obj <> endobj 44 0 obj <> endobj 47 0 obj <>stream

H�\�ۊ�0��^�fzۂ{`�}kƮ��o�3N��

�/$�|�IT��u��T8�s6�8�B��ΩM�m�L��m�ګ�� 4'� s*�2a��@l$k8k$k8k$k8k$k8k$k��Vx˼�1��7G�#��b�s��@j��čn��Ĺ%ts��-j�r��sw;��)ů�`kP� endstream endobj 48 0 obj <> endobj 49 0 obj <>stream

H�|U}PT��wW ��A��8�/�?0ET |�l��8Y�V`��1V,��Ʈ�$��!icD�E�JFZcՉ1��4�$=o=;�s��?ڙ�۽�s�=�w~�w�}� ��5�酱Yj��S�VW�]��Βr>,k6Q3뵘H�`��m�|>~�t>f�8�!��dTUש��2��0%%�څI�vn�2')i��UU�V

�|~w�O��T��U��v%(K+*�|�ا�}nu3w��Q<>ũ�U��]�T˕� J��rW�U>��֔�W:}%e�۫,͎S�[J*j|��:��S��.�_�VՔ�)+<�*]��:ŪS�S�+�s��ץT:��K=S�E�R�V�Nzo�Q=>��

y��˽ADz��0ALza�!��yA��_�!�ʅ�]�Z,��O"R#�E|��խ�m��F��(�I�ec��5��a��j��֫k�k��fmxтi�O�ۍ;�Es��+W:V��+�t�r� � �2��t�6��ڵI�1��Zg0�Yad��m�[��Yd�H�W�na��<f��lD��Dj*��0�3އ�[כ�6'G��}��h��=�V;�`�M�0��W?ymqffS�\ȴ,�G̬]ܱ|�my mCh��P��`��(o�Æ1��[��^ܺqP>��ᜬC�6�'A�ǝ�&�ǃ��K��-�y

4DX�(ؐ�2x2�

��vw�H�-��@�E��̸��;��H��w \��P#3*D�{43�?3i��f��B��vv��pn�O'\��Y��@D;�^�۩�&�&�bO_k�\�L㤎�ٯ�l�70o:�w�W�l}��K��B� '[M�8�~��p�9�0V�atPa~6R�7h֍�$��xR�#p��f��jyr�F� O6

<�el��IҀ�P��d��fn-��3L��]gj. ό#;_�ԧb2t�]��&�9�I��4��|e�数)�ި*`��<��

F�a=F�A?F�C=F��ۡ�

��R�s$�zPBi=`��m�D[>��y�k�~��LrH��,$ϸ�U��(K��L/�/��/$�J��~�A��.�D ƞ�L��ߠG��Z ��Gdȅy��:~� ��$�j� �e�v�{��V��#��<�~'��OC �R�zQ^K��~��M��,�W�4 � ��B�� E_��̹��jz��&z)w��>)/c*�� +�rw��R��͡Ba%s �C��0�%��pm��hJ01� �,Q]��ʮM'��y��_@��x�f��Ǵ?�o��f+�S9�۪��I�n.�D�[µ\��g��

s,��f.�*��N�3H�!r��@9v�Y4��,>l$s#��

��yZ��1xC˖p#Cv��}�U([26��

@e��;�B��K��þГ�X0��gvG�o�(k��|� endstream endobj 50 0 obj <>stream

H��Wkl�>��^�� zb��]��1x�`��6�]b��\� ^i%��vJ�V�M�+��2��b()��U4(�G�4��J�@<��&!��?�:��s�=��sν3{�Ը��(HM��N��j64��&'�7V6<�6�V��5�V��3i+Q�sPn�� 8��%��QE�>nn�ԭm�m�I k��[��66D��?��V��nh��'��8b�A�E

��s�9hR��BR�I,X��!��Jş��ݱ��Aʷ�d=8�Ȉ�@��)��9�_z=��뫎4ŗ��Fl�|:M��׀Հ�Z�3b=Z��Ӏ�n�^��|��!Ao޷x`�!sM¨V�)��V1E,3=?��`�}5,�8��$�~��\�t�s�#��q"M6�y��t}9�]��>��r�l��餛t�Gs7�J�GF�J�% h6g{��h"1|m��Vs�N�F:8�gq� p�/r�+F#�m�U�"�`��r�@iR��h-�"�B��$]��A3��_3�O��vy��TaERƛ�KQ��-��^��G��ޡ:N�Ż�>VɈ��'��m��D ��<�ȓ��K��y��F~q5G�BL��sf�f��M�ŷ� ��b�(f��RD�Zl��/��@7�#��)��6J;��y:�Nޫ*��]d�d�j�[�c5��F�@^t�i*PNߤ��"5��b��

#�f�]��o�Y�)�n�v�b��(�kc��zE��^��ad�DR��T`��)�J~��,�X�"�/��i��e9(��˝r�|]�� Y�,F�/+��[�aEG�#,ˀf��k�ۭ��A�+oy-S ��4�ث��ƽTc]��y�nK�f�w,�dFtN[��˲�v�L��z^.�gE�q-�s%��2�7�fQf��:wUxZ,I��f#�t�/)�{�^"��r�� f��a!7�nn�c��)�R0e��ƻ��|-;�-ӡ��S�F��$�HJ�'c�ZYLN�V�W�l�.gks渌��"0@��U�J��4S[�r��eq�%��i4��T=��ukj/��B~í�T�ǔ皲�m6��p`��I�s�:�U�^��.��/[��ƺ��I/��\ZĦ J=�aA�a�J/��Ls!�R�'�B��z��Թ�F��I��'�&TbN�[Jt�9�Zo�C�j�y*��a�jn�

mE`�W�>c��\}��go�Nw9;��zLI��1*��n�1[R�w�i��Rȓ^��Ph��uw�N]Ίy^��<-��<��rz�4tF��k5��R�m�VZ��b�

�4o��Ȩ��c�J�5��9��/�~*�L�y��ˊղ�=.g؞�txxBT�6P��3%�ܐu_�وH+��x5]d��

��Q�z��d�55t��OkQ�%�~��.�[�}��g�k ��

��(Uz1�W��;�*7wS5z��i�T�q��r}��=��zR=��~ ��{�O]�ΩO讍��aY�

Uz��l�Ň�)ū

�jji�

t<Vk�]�+*B _JO5g��-�:FQ�I�j�#J�R��E$�!�\8q�G_�O�V�` ��_�,�NJ�t�?"�{�c��O��H�r$:��

z@ʙ�A�N��:�J~��pЃ�� #0�MJ�Q�d��~��Q��g�T~Hm��;�ٺ"�>�� *��Өs�@7��c�բ"��YQF۶#�5ʵ��2K.UJ�i�G�%?eHwi*j0r+�1��-��Pi�в��њ:�3��h�GS��F��=��7��v �w��~��m��*w"��G��?��c�j�

��.x < ��V�6��!��9�=�Ì�O��"|,�#��r9"cY��Ʒ�*� �n8~ �LS��d1{��_خ��S"ZY�|)*[ _��V�sx�$�`X�Fe�Lq4*��rym"��lR�i��V��T;m5k��E� ɖ�H,�&R��f�qq�v�%|�E�� O��[o�_�gQ��3�RlQ��|�{��,�N�4>V� ��v i�V�Ű֪D�vA�1��̂m�l��4�`X��c��a�l�qـ�w�+�^�-:n�d:v�b�5�J�.��-��Ε��e �b�~�� p�p��]h�Y�\4XƱ��&9��]L�ώ_7=��ܜn��[`�8��&�W�#��7`��ذtxFI�&|��C&Џ�$l��

Fv�"O��w��rw�-��+bE��1a٢ʏ1�+F:$��n�x=bn�v��KˀOv3��x��=��UG猽�tU�n��cY�d��̎�Ms��ߎՇ��p_��yv&&j

�ܿ��!�hs�$��9��ߓڥx=��i9�'q&�q/�l��!�]J�&e��)a)��>�w� |o��~�4��EpL��l��_��\�rU�)k��Zʪ�N�W��o�k�

��p��)p�O�"��-��:��6�U�g�P�%�S�� T>��z�N]G[��t%m��:J�bZCN��T �єT�Y��FY�{��R�koeQ��T�R$��B��>�<�\��Y ��G�̴�\��Yĕ��߯М^*]N,#��M��UI�v�h#�m%��y\�q��Ey|6/��K�X*wnd�|��KY0�3��Fz�4%�p�~��K�ʑp۰��X�.��-t<��(Sd {�Ze)�C]��5��

��~�LUC�p/ǃ�!��Ks endstream endobj 51 0 obj <>stream

H�dU}T��aw��J��wF�!|

" #`��#�A��i��]d×Y�Ԉ�� Gj��H�MM��U��$Hb��H��S�� !`tȩ�wֻ'��s�{��~��1,�F��ڲ�e�q+��F�=��aIX][m�Q�%�UµJd�/�G[ep��ي��Ȑ�PƏe��MMv��

��O��~q��()i��m�-��Muku��rMY�}S��Z��*q��\'��Y�Nu�1�V'�E��l�V��bm��c�Y�U�V��^_VYm�+��Xk��V5�U�2kM��":*��+�\[M��i��NJ�f{��4'^4�X�js�HAڭm��:�j�2��a��v[��V��%.\QP��X�X��&�e�9&�a�f3)&�a�g�,�Y�T�L& 7�

�ǌ�6��:��Qv�O��g��L��j6i~��Іh�i�;��ڛ��+�Np@r�F�A��~�{FwX�o��b�

��%�֬�Ykf�

� :4<7xU��7�Q��]�ʷ�,��j\Z��>��q)�q� A�xP �~��R�6Q.��UK�/n��^iOC��o� ��+;l'�l��Չ��M�8��;{�q}��6��&��~��u��3��n��C�p��8g��_o[��ؽ�h]��̗�6� ��f��/��r�9�k<aGD;��o�- �5YE�π�l��T#�C�0�5%�d�ф�F\r��`��9�m��0S��c��\�� K��$P��a/�/j:0�#w`/�ZlbO��i��Á!<@�.в��Ռ��g�pz�X;��؛y��.o9�Bh8G�OF�3n8�֜��xL8�(��s`�H�,¢ h��;L:��a,HY�1��C�]��ӛGIu�Pt��޼E3Q��s*��LG

��(�1D�w��x0�jm��AX��$D:�/x�(��ry�"�o@��=�l��Q��)n�CJ=�@��b��|�&��{F�?�&�'�/��F�5��,�ti��?�L��3V($��%��5ʐw ߹vM[Q�0 ��J�C4F�[g��~�-��ٶ6` ��K��uN�$]�rLbGe�߭槔�f

3�A%�ÓX&`)�Sx 04q��ħa�E��`�%;!k& �Q��8'�"�^�Q��fT��0��_K>��f #�K�̒5^��9�#��G ��G�?-�ЕNW*t��M�V��Z� u�oK�Ea&�� UC4��]�&��|%k�RUB��Y*TCa�l8e�t<�p��鎀��r(ڷY�l]qrc}k[�I?0s��R��@

}r5s �g&H|w�`��H��#�yaX�1l�͆��2�D��-�l��A�{Ԭ�;��U��C��LY�B�+�3$ڧ�e��B!�X)8��p�7��*AŴ�v��l��߻Vv �M�@W�٭��[u�^�c��D-n�`��e�9�x�Y*��a }5i�l��moD`h��"`5��$czF��w��v$r[�_x�b��1lƾ*0o^��;.M�T<��4�ty�Z�u�@��~ ��t�7��#o�I�} :,~Y��!��\��h[5N�-��%$(��!��'PI��<��In/�8e��(�13f�j��Ǻ�S�)�'�Xn�봮^W�p��E|��M�v��ҫ��x�� {o��C��e�1a��b�O��1ѽ>Eh-�/��U��k*��nƕ{�4t��J*��T�_!��(:(��| F�Z *�`�&�ߊ��JQ^r!��J��w�ۚ�Yp�f�?��9��w~��;i-��苆��ٚ}�O�M�E��~^��(� 0c�%%V��X!�s�1Q��T�� >E�d��j��Wu�,>N N��qo��`��.j� ��W�?�qhh��d�

W̼.�s�7m �H��?�s�?|xtX�U鋣�U�b�9�"��Z�7��~{j��%�� O��<��rYɋs�$�q��_�WV宩R�ʐ��2�gown0�+_�}(T¡��@��C`[��岍��%޵��Pz�6��WM �9m

+7��rϋ�-s�$Ĭ��I��б��Fυ~�w>��簟�Lo=f/��G��

�w��艓)2��0E��ʘI��d�� (]��}�\�Ӛ�]&M*G��gY�ߕPI

�\��>��G�[��*�:�f?9m;i��~9�'��V�Bʂ!N��e�߀�!�Zݞ/�*�<�9m��圑\JKM�y "��B��y��Z�ߪ��l��

c�>��֋^~�fp5X�C�37��[6��~X��E�#[��V�33�-��s�c=�z�B3O� U4�:��\��c$c5&��ئ��v L�`lT�r��0=#!n�۲er

:�+Dt�&%,=On;x��H<ڡr �C_p1��1��l�x��4�� F�>74x�}�� wX��;SƯ�Pxj��ۊ�E��&-��S#+#� ѩ��'͍#��e{hS��+�[ˢRd��Ts��@M!�p��2��"��`�> �#HOd��yXp��b%*bX��'�mw�RQ�6>��ܲ��anHԢ%��BҮ��9�}*��0�0�d��G�yºn�]��w�B�a�ƻE=�9��dfK��eM.��Skn�LJZr��6?E�7o�|O�7hɩM��.�v��R1�c��Y�R`��|�w��X*j�H��[㤀��&AZQ��S��T�

ʫ^�W3�#fL%ʛWr��p��׋�++��쒝��*�J�qp�S%3��c>I��~PfƋ�_��P�^*M$+��ym�g�v=��k�j�T��=�5Y� �!�]�sș��m��㳤��:=�n�c�}�0 <��/�!];��bM�'��=��`>�n�M�0l��fb�c9��4�S{�G�6r8 0�ӹ�0�u�tuaf�r�O��Z&��zSYY^��Nn8}�u%�ߕ�Dw*��~9)�s��2-�

�^'�P� ��b-5�kq��L`��n��\&+��:��YҦ��GcH㐿^=��d�)�{�6ج��o{Vx��*j<�N%H�M2�[Y� endobj 53 0 obj <>stream

H�j`@�� endstream endobj 54 0 obj <> endobj 55 0 obj <>stream

H�|VPW�az`P0�413�t��EQ�hDQDd��b$V��ό�@\R�/�A��qſ&��j�A7��.j��QˈQ��&��R�� ]k��=�{�}5,�cX��΍N�Nyk��se�JBJ��14ړ��fE�ʪ!~j��N�ʽv�O�fFǲ��5Ƴ�Hqef��o�Fﷇw�G�IÇGH��tYJ.��<�4ݝ�Qz�Ov�&��J��`�4K��J��|IFry%��S�9Ϯ�H�'�rn��h�S��<�7#��ia��(#7��*�s��\W��ɗ�x�3��+Z(� ]�+EҴ��0��vHy�"�H*r��h*�rK��7;_qy��aX�1��SϘ��0}f��c��L$Ìe��7�<� ��33�D&�Y�lfj�&�!��f�M��u?��v�.}��~��!ư��7��3�K��_�%`D�‛�ަy�2Ӎ��y��[S�O�OO��pR_�x�s��(`|j�GJxZ��\g��t�!

��S�6B�

RS��\N��VM�ĵB�rA��Jv;��5��wC6��:ج��![nF�1�$�H�K� ��Y��O��UNC.��#��py8��:�ԑ��%�(��{ %��m�l��lolW{�ҫ#�Y±��i iq3��$�� +`��A�%�SWS�@�zxaqv|I��t0��y�� `2lMM\��@��2,�h�� `b9�)v�q�o�B2G�Hj�}��Z0[D�HT��a�я>��<@*=��A@��

�&g}+hb'�:�S�'sH�'��=|}Gp�a��gl�?$�]߼��:�� 7��歔_9�3�K�o��@9�

�� `?6u�@"��P��[-/��ʫڇRq��|=!2!��ob� �B�Y0��Y4c0�� R�٦I�1!ӎO� �w�z��gܸ_��Xg�*�4q0�`�G�(��%o�.Ń�(��8�II�|�r�a��b��sm|}�

7lh�5r+��n�� (�:��[��v��/��A��Zj[��6u��Wl|1Z�Z�P��r��g��%�#b��9�2�-\�T�N�,�Z��6:kg[1r$R�q�]4�#UՇ��7,��?��C\y��;_�ZV��Uv�C�,�n

��{��1��#�'� vP�Ůc) �DW��=ΊI$�~"_�}1"�m�z�%P��B�6V��"��X8'\Z{��5�}��?`��썷�M:~g�*q��uL�Q��g�!��̦��6�BIK�mп��L��P��І��Ȧ��~V��_�H��P�rY�&�c ~fjF�L��ۡo�_څ(��7�~��Fm��HW��J�۱e�&��Ӭ8l5H/�5b�]k>tT�#��oK��"gXx�ܲ�V�=�A"U�m��x-Ѭ&;]��.��5�l��F�s�b�r�leШU�B��a[(�E;s5��m�_��#�k��1[��}��U۬`��Q=��/��K>�Yi��#Gx_սç��m��x��Q��!��0��Q�n(Sgv��X��Mt=�Ω��"��v?!}��]��ō??�^>m� �5��M�7f�G>!�=3�vޝ�;�:/� �.�q��|�E5�i��<��k�Q��5��9��M��`��Y�!MEao�{��t�w�[nC� �k_r� ~(r�(�T�A��`m#��4�V9�y�Jm�^}�ie�}��)��̞�Ί��&}�p.��C2e$/�7�Eڄ܀&�{��>��>ېV��%*�B��J��y\K��e��wtM��+NT��88O��?Ձnc��p��pi27X�\��M��%��g��Iq<�$D�Ki�EJ��[��`��W.�

-�70��"�@��Q�[��cG�ȳ��+l�e��[�G�j�]=�Iɨ�R��c>]]Y�Xw��F��?݌73�H��c H~LB�,�Q�N=1�sg�V�c��N�i1 �d�|��x;�j�$�\�� z�?_7�A��EhY�� "�E�� X�+.�)��B��L�� endstream endobj 56 0 obj <> endobj 57 0 obj <>stream

H��yTSw�oɞ��c [��5la�QIBH�ADED��2�mtFOE�.�c��}��0��8�׎�8G�Ng��9�w��߽��'��0�֠�J��b�

2y�.-;!��K�Z� ��^�i�"L��0��-�� @8(��r�;q��7�L��y��&�Q��q�4�j��|�9��

�V��)g�B�0�i�W��8#�8wթ��8_�٥ʨQ��Q�j@�&�A)/��g�>'K��t�;\�� ӥ$պF�ZUn��(4T�%)뫔�0C&��Z��i��8��bx��E��B�;��P��ӓ̹�A�om?�W=

�x��-��[��0��}��y)7ta��>j��T�7��@��tܛ�`q�2��ʀ��&��6�Z�L�Ą?�_��yxg)˔z��çL�U��*�u�Sk�Se�O4?׸�c��.��R� ߁��-��2�5�� S�>ӣV��d�`r��n~��Y�&�+`��;�A4�� A9�=�-�t��l�`;��~p�� Gp| ��[`L��`<� "A�YA�+��Cb(��R�,�*�T�2B-�

�ꇆ��n��Q�t�}MA�0�al��S�x ��k�&�^��>�0|>_�'��,�G!"F$H:R��!z��F�Qd?r9�\A&�G��rQ��h��E��]�a�4z�Bg��E#H �*B=��0H�I��p�p�0MxJ$�D1��D, V��ĭ��KĻ�Y�dE�"E��I2��E�B�G��t�4MzN��r!YK� ��?%_&�#��(��0J:EAi��Q�(�()ӔWT6U@��P+��!�~��m��D�e�Դ�!��h�Ӧh/��']B/��ҏӿ�?a0n�hF!��X��8��܌k�c&5S��6�l��Ia�2c�K�M�A�!�E�#��ƒ�d�V��(�k��e��l ��}�}�C�q�9

N'��)�].�u�J�r�

��w�G� xR^��[�oƜch�g�`>b��$��*~� �:��E��b��~��,m,�-��ݖ,�Y��¬�*�6X�[ݱF�=�3�뭷Y��~dó ��t��i�z�f�6�~`{�v��.�Ng��#{�}�}��j��c1X6��fm��;'_9 �r�:�8�q�:��˜�O:ϸ8��u��Jq��nv=��M��m��R 4 �

n�3ܣ�k�Gݯz=��[=��=�<�=GTB(�/�S�,]6*�-��W:#��7�*��e��^YDY�}U�j��AyT�`�#�D=��"�b{ų��+�ʯ:�!kJ4G�m��t�}uC�%��K7YV��fF��Y�.�=b��?S��ƕƩ�Ⱥ��y�� چ��k�5%4��m�7�lqlio�Z�lG+�Z�z�͹��mzy��]��?u�u�w|�"űN��wW&��e֥ﺱ*|��j��5k��yݭ��ǯg��^y�kEk��l�D_p߶��7Dm��o꿻1m��l�{��Mś� n�L�l�<9��O�[��$��h�՛B��d�Ҟ@��i�ءG��&��v��V�ǥ8��n��R�ĩ7��u��\�ЭD��-��u��`�ֲK�³8��%��y��h��Y�ѹJ�º;��.��!��

��z��p��g��_��X��Q��K��F��Aǿ�=ȼ�:ɹ�8ʷ�6˶�5̵�5͵�6ζ�7ϸ�9к�<Ѿ�?��D��I��N��U��\��d��l��v��ۀ�܊�ݖ�ޢ�)߯�6��D��S��c��s�� 2��F��[��p��(��@��X��r��4��P��m��8��W��w��)��K��m�� endstream endobj 62 0 obj <>/Filter/FlateDecode/ID[<22750FA1DB20470887799487213B93AB><6D564184FDDE4407A84963953F578B8C>]/Info 27 0 R/Length 257/Root 29 0 R/Size 63/Type/XRef/W[1 3 1]>>stream

h�<��K�Q��=~��~HM��$��(4�$�;&�H $�d�k��_��`��n�}��p�{_�U�Q)8��zu�.�yx�7_=F�Ͼw9��Q.��#P_�2�y`�jjk>��׊ۆ�ȸ2�t��m�=Γl��;��%�ok��~��;�2��őb/wy�h8g��Y�Mz�~B?��͓��w�s��V�/��o�S�B��ON�x�s�4�O`datU�`�6=� endstream endobj startxref 99550 %%E

JSTOR: Access Check

Access Check

Our systems have detected unusual traffic activity from your network. Please complete this reCAPTCHA to demonstrate that it's

you making the requests and not a robot. If you are having trouble seeing or completing this challenge,

this page may help.

If you continue to experience issues, you can contact JSTOR support.

Block Reference: #5cc758ab-e1ff-11ee-be8d-148b910a19eb

VID: #

IP: 49.157.13.121

Date and time: Thu, 14 Mar 2024 12:35:38 GMT

Javascript is disabled

Go back to JSTOR

Understanding ethics and types | Britannica

Search Britannica

Click here to search

Search Britannica

Click here to search

Home

Games & Quizzes

History & Society

Science & Tech

Biographies

Animals & Nature

Geography & Travel

Arts & Culture

Money

Videos

On This Day

One Good Fact

Dictionary

New Articles

History & Society

Lifestyles & Social Issues

Philosophy & Religion

Politics, Law & Government

World History

Science & Tech

Health & Medicine

Science

Technology

Biographies

Browse Biographies

Animals & Nature

Birds, Reptiles & Other Vertebrates

Bugs, Mollusks & Other Invertebrates

Environment

Fossils & Geologic Time

Mammals

Plants

Geography & Travel

Arts & Culture

Entertainment & Pop Culture

Literature

Sports & Recreation

Visual Arts

Companions

Demystified

Image Galleries

Infographics

Lists

Podcasts

Spotlights

Summaries

The Forum

Top Questions

#WTFact

100 Women

Britannica Kids

Saving Earth

Space Next 50

Student Center

Home

Games & Quizzes

History & Society

Science & Tech

Biographies

Animals & Nature

Geography & Travel

Arts & Culture

Money

Videos

ethics

Table of Contents

ethics

Related Summaries

Democritus Summary

Max Scheler Summary

teleological ethics Summary

Emmanuel Lévinas Summary

Peter Singer Summary

Epicurus Summary

Discover

What’s the Difference Between Morality and Ethics?

Philosophers to Know, Part I

Celebrating Ramadan

All 119 References in “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” Explained

What Is the Newest Country in the World?

7 Puzzling Plane Disappearances

10 Great Sports Rivalries

Home

Philosophy & Religion

Ethical Issues

ethics Article

ethics summary

Actions

Cite

verifiedCite

While every effort has been made to follow citation style rules, there may be some discrepancies.

Please refer to the appropriate style manual or other sources if you have any questions.

Select Citation Style

MLA

APA

Chicago Manual of Style

Copy Citation

Share to social media

Facebook

Twitter

URL

https://www.britannica.com/summary/ethics-philosophy

Understand the concept and types of ethics

Cite

verifiedCite

While every effort has been made to follow citation style rules, there may be some discrepancies.

Please refer to the appropriate style manual or other sources if you have any questions.

Select Citation Style

MLA

APA

Chicago Manual of Style

Copy Citation

Share to social media

Facebook

Twitter

URL

https://www.britannica.com/summary/ethics-philosophy

Written and fact-checked by

The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica

Below is the article summary. For the full article, see ethics.

Code of HammurabiDetail of the stela inscribed with the Code of Hammurabi showing the king before the god Shamash, bas-relief from Susa, 18th century bce; in the Louvre, Paris.(more)ethics, Branch of philosophy that seeks to determine the correct application of moral notions such as good and bad and right and wrong or a theory of the application or nature of such notions. Ethics is traditionally subdivided into normative ethics, metaethics, and applied ethics. Normative ethics seeks to establish norms or standards of conduct; a crucial question in this field is whether actions are to be judged right or wrong based on their consequences or based on their conformity to some moral rule, such as “Do not tell a lie.” Theories that adopt the former basis of judgment are called consequentialist (see consequentialism); those that adopt the latter are known as deontological (see deontological ethics). Metaethics is concerned with the nature of ethical judgments and theories. Since the beginning of the 20th century, much work in metaethics has focused on the logical and semantic aspects of moral language. Some major metaethical theories are naturalism (see naturalistic fallacy), intuitionism, emotivism, and prescriptivism. Applied ethics, as the name implies, consists of the application of normative ethical theories to practical moral problems (e.g., abortion). Among the major fields of applied ethics are bioethics, business ethics, legal ethics, and medical ethics.

Democritus Summary

Democritus was an ancient Greek philosopher, a central figure in the development of philosophical atomism and of the atomic theory of the universe. Knowledge of Democritus’s life is largely limited to untrustworthy tradition. It seems that he was a wealthy citizen of Abdera, in Thrace; that he

Max Scheler Summary

Max Scheler German social and ethical philosopher. Although remembered for his phenomenological approach, he was strongly opposed to the philosophical method of the founder of phenomenology, Edmund Husserl (1859–1938). Scheler studied philosophy at the University of Jena under Rudolf Eucken

teleological ethics Summary

Teleological ethics, (teleological from Greek telos, “end”; logos, “science”), theory of morality that derives duty or moral obligation from what is good or desirable as an end to be achieved. Also known as consequentialist ethics, it is opposed to deontological ethics (from the Greek deon,

Emmanuel Lévinas Summary

Emmanuel Lévinas Lithuanian-born French philosopher renowned for his powerful critique of the preeminence of ontology (the philosophical study of being) in the history of Western philosophy, particularly in the work of the German philosopher Martin Heidegger (1889–1976). Lévinas began his studies