Lecture, Walter J. Thompson: “Politics and Happiness”

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Walter J. Thompson
Fellow, Dean
Thomas More College of Liberal Arts
St. Vincent de Paul Lecture & Concert Series,
February 16, 2024

 

I. Introduction

In my youth, the occasion for this holiday was the birthday of our first President, George Washington. What we celebrate today is less clear. I fear we no longer know, or give much thought to, what we celebrate on Presidents’ Day. Indeed, I fear that some might think we celebrate the office itself or success in attaining it (by winning our favor), rather than the honorable discharge of that grave responsibility.

Washington was celebrated even in his own day; and he has been consistently celebrated since. He is celebrated not only for his achievements as a soldier and statesman, but also — and even more — for his willingness to relinquish authority when he judged his services no longer necessary.

He did this at numerous points in his life. In 1783, Washington resigned his commission as Commander in Chief of the Continental Army after the successful completion of the War of Independence and the conclusion of peace with Great Britain. His intention was to retire from public life and return to the life of a citizen-farmer on his estate at Mount Vernon. This show of republican virtue earned him the name of the American Cincinnatus, after the Roman general who left his plow to deliver the city from the threat of foreign enemies and then surrendered the extraordinary power of the dictatorship immediately after their defeat to return to private life.

Despite his intentions after the war, Washington’s fellow citizens did not allow him to remain long in retirement. Though not seeking the office — indeed, though expressly disavowing interest in it — he was unanimously elected President in 1789 and unanimously reelected in 1793. In 1796, with the time for another election approaching, Washington declined to stand for a third term, despite a widespread wish that he continue. In a public letter to his fellow citizens, his “Farewell Address,” Washington gave his reasons for standing down and withdrawing from public life: 

The acceptance of, and continuance hitherto in, the office to which your suffrages have twice called me, have been a uniform sacrifice of inclination to the opinion of duty, and to a deference for what appeared to be your desire.

But now, he continues, after two terms in office, 

I rejoice, that the state of your concerns, external as well as internal, no longer renders the pursuit of inclination incompatible with the sentiment of duty, or propriety… Satisfied that if any circumstances have given peculiar value to my services, they were temporary, I have the consolation to believe, that while choice and prudence invite me to quit the political scene, patriotism does not forbid it.^[1]

Aristotle would approve of Washington’s desire to retire from public life, and also of the limit he placed on the satisfaction of it. According to Aristotle, political activity can be the duty of a citizen, something his patriotism requires, but it is not something he should be hungry for. Indeed, according to Aristotle, one condition of a healthy politics is citizens’ knowing something better than politics, and ordering their lives both individually and communally to that something better. While political activity done well is both a source of good for others and a certain happiness of the politician, still no one should aspire to lead a political life, no one should devote himself to politics above all.

Aristotle recommends only one way of life — a life devoted to securing the leisure necessary to engage in activities worth doing for their own sake, for oneself, one’s family and friends, and one’s fellow citizens. That most choiceworthy life is philosophical (in a sense we will explore). The only alternatives to that life are lives which undervalue leisured activities and overvalue things desirable not for their own sake, but for the sake of leisured activities. Those who devote themselves to political activity above all overestimate the value of goods such as honor, wealth, and power to a happy human life, which overestimation leads to a corruption of political life.

Or so I shall argue. I will first present a sketch of Aristotle’s account of happiness in the first book of the Nicomachean Ethics and then his considered teaching on how one ought to live in the last. I will then examine his treatment in Politics VII of a dispute concerning the most choiceworthy life. ^[2] I will conclude by returning to the example of George Washington. 

II. Happiness and the Human Good

The NE is a treatise about human action — about what we human beings ought to do or how we human beings ought to live. Since every action and choice aims at some good, the fundamental question of the NE is: what is happiness or the human good — that is, what is (or what ought to be) the end of human action? The whole of the NE is one long road toward clarification of the principle of human life — the final end of our actions, the highest human good.

The inquiry into the human good, Aristotle says, belongs to political science. The city exists to secure the final good of its members, their happiness. And it is the first community that is self-sufficient to that end. Only in and through the city can human beings live well and so be happy. Because the good at which the city aims is the highest human good of its members, political science is the authoritative and architectonic knowledge of human life or human action.

We seek to know that good, Aristotle says, not merely to know it, but for the sake of our lives — that we might live well and so be happy. Knowing what happiness is gives us a target to aim at, to give form and order to our lives (individually and communally). It is not necessary that our lives have such order. Though everyone wishes to be happy and everyone acts for the sake of happiness, not all — indeed, perhaps few — maintain a single, consistent conception of happiness.

All agree that the good at which politics aims, the highest human good, is called happiness; and all agree “that being happy is the same thing as living well and doing well.” (NE I.4, 1095a19–20) But as to what happiness is, they disagree — the many with the wise, the many among themselves, and even the same man with himself at different times. Most think it to be something obvious and apparent, like pleasure or wealth or honor.

As he typically does, Aristotle begins his inquiry into the human good by examining the views of others. But because in matters of action, truth is judged more from deeds than from words, he turns not to what people say about happiness, but to how they live. There are, he tells us, “three most prominent lives”: the life of enjoyment, the political life, and the contemplative life. (NE I.5, 1095b18–19) Each life differs in its conception of happiness or the human good and, consequently, in the actions to which those who live such lives are devoted, through which they hope to attain happiness.

“The many and most vulgar,” Aristotle says, “[suppose the good and happiness to be] pleasure; on account of which, they love the life of enjoyment.” (NE I.5, 1095b16–17) Aristotle immediately dismisses those who pursue such a life as slavish, since they choose the life of fatted cattle. But, he makes clear, what makes such a life attractive to many is the example of those in positions of power, who pass their days in such indulgence. 

“Refined and practical men,” Aristotle continues, “[suppose happiness and the good to be] honor. For this is just about the end of the political life.” (NE I.5, 1095b22–23) Unlike the many and most vulgar, those who are considered (or who consider themselves) refined and practical think not pleasure but honor to be the highest good. Hence they devote themselves to political activity, through which honor is won. What Aristotle means by the political life here is not simply life within the city, but the life of those who devote themselves to directing the affairs of the city, those who take an active part in politics.

Aristotle does not summarily dismiss those who pursue this life, but he does critique their conception of the good (and, consequently, their practice). Honor, he says, “appears to be more superficial than what we seek. For it seems to be more in those who honor than in the one who is honored, whereas we divine that the good is something proper to someone and hard to take away.” (NE I.5, 1095b23–26) Honor is essentially something given by others; hence, it is more in the power of those who confer it, who judge who or what is worthy of honor by their standards. “Moreover,” Aristotle continues, “they seem to pursue honor in order to persuade themselves that they are good — at least, they seek to be honored by the prudent, and among people who are familiar with them, and for their virtue. It is clear, then, that according to these, virtue is superior.” (NE I.5, 1095b26–30) Their own practice reveals that what the “refined and practical” pursue above all — namely, honor — cannot be the highest human good. For they wish to be honored only by those whose honor they prize, and for qualities they think worthy of honor. The good of honor to the one honored is as evidence of his character. Honor is rendered by others for what they recognize as one’s good deeds, so to be honored is to know that one is recognized as good.

If those who pursue the political life seek to be recognized as good, perhaps, Aristotle suggests, the end of the political life is virtue rather than honor. “But,” he continues, “this also appears too incomplete. For it seems that one might possess virtue while being asleep or inactive throughout life; and further one might suffer the greatest evils and misfortunes, and no one would call happy one living so, except to defend a thesis.” (NE I.5, 1095b30–1096a2) Being happy does not consist merely in being of a certain sort (which one is by his virtues); for a good man might be doing nothing, or suffering much, and no one would call one who is not actually living well or doing well happy. So, even on its most generous construal, the conception of happiness of those who pursue the political life is inadequate.

“Third,” Aristotle says, “is the contemplative life, into which we will make an investigation in what follows.” (NE I.5, 1096a4–5) The third life, the contemplative, Aristotle names but does not examine. He remains silent on the identity of its proponents, and on their distinctive view of happiness and the human good. Apparently we are not ready, at this stage in the inquiry, to fruitfully consider this life. Perhaps Aristotle remains silent because he does not wish to present this life in the way it is commonly understood in distinction from the others. Perhaps the contemplative life as he understands it is not a prominent life at all.

In any case, in lieu of the contemplative life, Aristotle briefly considers a fourth life, that of the money-maker. But wealth is obviously not the good we are seeking, he says, since it is something useful and desired for the sake of other things. So any of the other alternatives — pleasure, honor, or virtue — which are at least sought for themselves, would be superior. “But,” Aristotle adds, “it appears that neither are these ends, even though many arguments have been offered on their behalf. Therefore, let us dismiss them.” (NE I.5, 1096a9–10)

Aristotle concludes his initial investigation by dismissing as candidates for happiness or the human good the aim of every prominent life but the as yet unexamined contemplative life. At this stage in the inquiry, every alternative has been found wanting and dismissed.

After considering the answers of others, revealed in the lives they lead, Aristotle begins to sketch his own answer to the question of what happiness is. We can find an answer, Aristotle suggests, by identifying the work of a human being, since “for anything that has some work and action, the good and the well [for it] seem to be in that work, so it would seem for a human being, if he has some work.” (NE I.7, 1097b26–28)

Since a human being is a certain kind of living thing, we would expect the work of a human being to be a certain sort of life — that is, some vital activity that is proper to him as human. What, then, is that life? It cannot be a life of feeding and growing, for that is common to all living things; nor a life of sensing, which is common to all animals. “There remains,” Aristotle says, “a certain practical [life] of that which has reason. Of this, [one part is rational] as obedient to reason, the other as having it and thinking. [Life] too is spoken of in two ways; let us set down the one according to activity, for this seems to be called [life] more authoritatively.” (NE I.7, 1098a3–12)

Interestingly, Aristotle does not identify the human work with reasoning, but with a practical life of that which has reason, whether as obedient to reason or as itself thinking. These two — desire and thought — are the sources of distinctively human action. By his deliberate desire — that is, by his choice — a human being is the source of his actions. (NE III.3) The life proper to a human being — the life that is his as the animal having reason — is a certain practical life: a life of deliberately chosen actions. For a human being, then, living is acting and living well is acting in accord with reason.

So, Aristotle concludes:

If the work of a human being is a certain sort of life and this [life] is an activity of soul and actions accompanied by reason, and the serious man [does these things] well and beautifully, [for] each [activity] is completed well according to its proper virtue, if this is so, then the human good becomes an activity of soul in accordance with virtue, and if the virtues are many, then in accordance with the best and most complete. (NE I.7, 1098a12–18)

“But further,” Aristotle adds, “in a complete life, for one swallow does not make a spring, nor does one day; similarly, neither does one day or a short time make us blessed and happy.” (NE I.7, 1098a18–20) Human happiness, like a human life, is not a matter of a moment. Our lives are wholes, composed of many (distinctively human) activities, extended in time. Our complete lives — our biographies, as it were — are the product of our deliberate choices. A happy human life, therefore, is a lifetime of living or doing well.

But such a happy life also requires resources, for it is impossible to act (well) without equipment. So there is a need for external prosperity to be added, without which a human being cannot be active in accord with complete virtue. Summarizing his sketch of the human good, Aristotle says: “What then prevents our calling happy one who is active in accordance with complete virtue and supplied with a sufficient stock of external goods, not for any chance amount of time but for a complete life?” (NE I.10, 1101a15–17)

III. Lives Human and Divine

In the remainder of the NE, in order to better contemplate happiness (NE I.13, 1102a6–7), Aristotle considers the virtues, both of character and of thought (NE II–VI), then other states of character that fall short of virtue (continence and incontinence) (NE VII), then things consequent on or connected with virtue (friendship and pleasure) (NE VIII–X.5). Toward the end of the last book, he returns to the question, “what is happiness,” picking up where he left off. 

He argues first that complete happiness is found in the activity of contemplation. If happiness is activity in accordance with virtue, Aristotle says, it is reasonable that it be activity in accordance with the best virtue, and this will be the virtue of the best thing. The best thing — both simply, in the whole of things, and in us — is intelligence, which is either itself divine or the most divine thing in us. So the activity of intelligence, in accordance with its proper virtue — wisdom — will be complete happiness. This activity, Aristotle says, is contemplative — a beholding of what is most intelligible, what cannot be otherwise, what is most beautiful and divine. (NE X.7, 1177a12–18)

Comparing this activity to others, Aristotle argues that it is best because it is the activity of the highest thing in us, and concerned with the highest things simply; because it is most continuous, most pleasant, most self-sufficient, and most loved for its own sake. Finally, contemplation is the best activity because it is most leisured. We expect to find happiness in leisure since both are ends. “We are occupied,” Aristotle says, “in order to be at leisure, and we make war in order that we might have peace. Therefore, the activity of the practical virtues is in politics or in war, and actions concerning these things seem to be unleisured.” (NE X.7, 1177b4–8) The actions of war are completely so — no one fights in order to fight, but fights when he must, to preserve his city and secure its peace. But even political activity is in some way unleisured, since “beyond political activity itself, [the politician] seeks to acquire power and honors or at least happiness for himself and his fellow citizens — which is something other than politics, and which, it is clear, we seek as something other.” (NE X.7, 1177b12–15) Since nothing further comes from it, contemplation is sought for itself alone. Acts of the practical virtues, although they are done for their own sake — that is, because they are acts of virtue and so beautiful — still are done in order to bring about something else. The politician engages in politics not merely to be politically active; rather, he seeks through his activity to attain something further — either a good of his own, like power and honor, or a common good, like happiness for himself and his fellow citizens. 

Given this contrast between activities, Aristotle concludes:

So, if among actions in accordance with the virtues, the political and military stand out in beauty and greatness, but these [actions] are unleisured, and aim at some end, and are not choiceworthy on account of themselves; but the activity of intelligence, which is thought to differ in seriousness, being contemplative, to aim at no end beyond itself, and to have its proper pleasure (which augments its activity), and the self-sufficiency and leisureliness and unweariness (possible for a human being) and other such things which are assigned to the blessed seem to be in accordance with this activity, then this [activity] will be the complete happiness of a human being… (NE X.7, 1177b16–25)

“This activity will be the complete happiness of a human being,” Aristotle continues, “if it receives a complete span of life, for nothing incomplete belongs to happiness.” (NE X.7, 1177b25–26) As the best and most complete of activities in accordance with virtue, contemplation would be the complete happiness of a human being, if it could occupy the whole of his life.

Given this last qualification, Aristotle now argues that a complete life of complete happiness is beyond us. “But such a life,” he says, “would be superior to that [life] in accordance with a human being. For not insofar as he is a human being will he live this way, but insofar as something divine is present in him. And as much as this differs from the composite, so much does its activity [differ] from that in accordance with the other virtue. If intelligence is divine in relation to a human being, the life according to [intelligence] is divine in relation to human life.” (NE X.7, 1177b26–1178a2) A complete life of contemplation is, strictly speaking, a divine life. God lives, and his life is his contemplation — “an understanding of understanding.” (Meta XII.9, 1074b15-35). Our lives cannot be that activity. Due to the complexity of human nature, our lives are composed of many and diverse activities, each occupying some part of the whole of our lives. We cannot be continuously active, in the highest or in any other single activity. Though contemplation is our most continuous activity, we cannot contemplate continuously. Human nature is not self-sufficient for such a life.

Nevertheless, Aristotle insists, “we must not, in accord with those who exhort us, ‘think human things, being human’ or ‘think like a mortal, being mortal’; but [we must], as much as we are able, immortalize and do everything with a view to living in accordance with the best thing in us; for even if this is small in bulk, in power and dignity it much surpasses all [the rest].” (NE X.7, 1177b32–1178a2) Because we are human, we cannot live a divine life at all times; nevertheless, we ought to strive to live that life when we can. The divine life of contemplation cannot be the whole of our lives, but it can be the end of the rest of our lives. That is, we can order our human lives to allow ourselves time to live the life of what is best and most divine in us. We can recognize the value of leisure, strive to secure it, and take advantage of it when it is available.

The best human life, then, is one ordered to making it possible for us to live a life better than human when we can. The wise man lives that better than human life when he contemplates (and for as long as he contemplates). When he does so, he is as happy as he can be. When he cannot do so, since he is human being, he will still be as happy as the human condition and his particular circumstances allow, for he will live in accordance with the rest of virtue. “The life in accordance with the other virtue” — that is, prudence and the virtues of character — Aristotle says, “is [happiest] secondarily; since the activities in accordance with it are human.” (NE X.8, 1178a9 –10) One and the same man will live both lives — divine and human, primarily and secondarily happiest — but at different times. He will live the first when he can; and the second when he is not living the first.

To live either life he will require, beyond the relevant virtues, the basic necessities of human life. But to live a human life, he will require more resources than to live according to what is most divine in him. To accomplish the actions that accord with “the other virtue” requires resources and opportunities for action. And the greater the actions, the more resources will be needed. But the wise man needs none of these things, for his activity at least; indeed, for his activity they may even be impediments. (NE X.8, 1178b1–5) Still, Aristotle says, insofar as the wise man is a human being and lives together with others — family, friends, associates, fellow citizens — he chooses to do the actions that accord with the rest of virtue. So he will need a sufficient supply of external goods to lead a human life. (NE X.8, 1178b5–8)

Nevertheless, Aristotle adds, we should not think that someone who is going to be happy — either primarily, by contemplation, or secondarily, by activity in accord with the rest of virtue — will need many and great resources. For neither self-sufficiency nor action depend on excess, and “we can do beautiful things without ruling land and sea.” (NE X.8, 1179a4–5) We can act in accordance with the virtues — all the virtues — even from moderate resources. This is clear, since private persons seem to do good actions no less — indeed, even more — than those in positions of power. (NE X.8, 1179a6–8) Most people overestimate the need for external goods for a happy life. Indeed, as we saw earlier, most think happiness to consist in the possession of an abundance of such goods. In fact, Aristotle insists, a happy life, whether of contemplation or of action, requires only modest resources.

Who, then, according to Aristotle, is the happy man? The one who lives for a time the happiest life of contemplation is the wise man, since that life is the activity of intelligence in accordance with wisdom. The same man will also live the second happiest life of beautiful actions, since he is a human being and possesses the other, human virtues — prudence and the virtues of character. The human life of the happy man, therefore, is a certain kind of practical life — a life of deliberately chosen actions — some directed to providing what is necessary to live and to live well, some directed to doing as one should in relation to others and in the various circumstances of life, some directed to immortalizing as far as possible, seeking leisure and taking advantage of it to live according to what is best and most divine in us.

So, the happy human life is the life of one with human wisdom — the life of one who knows what the human good is. But the highest human good is contemplation of the highest things. So, the happy human life would be the life of one who loves and seeks wisdom. Such a life is philosophical. The happy man must not only be wise, but also a lover of wisdom.

He must also be prudent, not only to be happiest secondarily, but even to be happiest simply. It falls to the prudence of the happy man to act so as to acquire wisdom and to exercise it when he can. (NE VI.13, 1145a6-11) So part of the human life of the happy man will involve his striving to live the life of what is divine in him. “Wisdom,” Aristotle tells us, “contemplates none of the things from which the happiness of a human being will be; for it is of nothing that comes to be.” (NE VI.12, 1143b19–20) The contemplation of “the things from which the happiness of a human being will be” is the work of prudence. So contemplative wisdom, if it is to come to be and to be exercised, needs the service of prudence. Since prudence discerns and commands what is to be done for the sake of happiness, it falls to prudence to see that and how wisdom might come to be. The exercise of wisdom is the end of human life, but it is prudence that must command for the sake of this end. (NE VI.13, 1145a7–10) Therefore, “the work [of a human being] is completed [i.e., brought to its end],” not by wisdom, but “in accordance with prudence and virtue of character; for virtue makes the aim right, and prudence the things toward it.” (NE VI.12, 1144a6–9)

So, to be happy one must not only be wise, but also prudent and a lover of wisdom. Wisdom and prudence are intellectual virtues, indeed the chief intellectual virtues. The love of wisdom — philosophy — is not an intellectual but a moral virtue, a state of right desire, a habitual love.

So, although Aristotle does not say so explicitly here, the happy human life is the life of a philosopher — a lover of wisdom.

IV. Political and Philosophical Lives

What Aristotle does not say explicitly in NE, he does say in Pol. In Pol VII, he presides over a dispute among those “who agree that the most choiceworthy life is the life with virtue, but disagree over the use of it.” (Pol VII.3, 1325a16–17) Some say the most choiceworthy life is “a political and practical life.” Others, on the contrary, prefer a life “divorced from all external things, such as a sort of contemplative [life], which they say is the only [life] of a philosopher.” It appears, Aristotle says, “that these two are just about the lives chosen by those most ambitious with a view to virtue, both formerly and now. And the two I mean [are] the political and the philosophical [lives].” (Pol VII.2, 1324a25–32)

According to some, the good man should devote himself to active participation in public affairs. According to others, he should withdraw from such extroversion into the quiet life of the contemplative. Aristotle will agree with neither party simply. In fact, he will disagree with their casting of the alternatives. For the disputants, the choice is between a practical life of political engagement or a quiet life of contemplation. Aristotle will refuse to oppose action and contemplation. For him the alternatives are the political life or the philosophical life.

Aristotle first considers the reasons which lead each party to prefer its own life and to reject the other. Those who favor the life of withdrawal, “consider rule over one’s neighbors, if it comes to be despotically, to be accompanied by injustice of the greatest sort, and if politically, not to involve injustice, but to be an impediment to one’s own well-being.” (Pol VII.2, 1324a35–38) Those who choose what they call a contemplative life wish to remain aloof from the busyness of political life, from excessive meddling in the affairs of others. 

Those who favor the life of political engagement “hold opinions that are just about the opposite of these. For [they hold] that the only life for a man is the practical and political life, and that in the case of each virtue there are no more actions for private persons than for those who do the common things and engage in politics.” (Pol VII.2, 1324a38–1324b1) Those who prefer the political life think that only the public square provides adequate scope for the exercise of genuine — that is, manly — virtue.

Among those devoted to the active life so conceived, Aristotle adds, some go further and “say that the despotic and tyrannical sort of regime is the only happy one. And among some this is the standard of the laws and the regime, that they despotically rule their neighbors. Thus while most of the customs existing among most are, so to speak, a jumble, if the laws anywhere look to one thing, it is toward domination that they all aim.” (Pol VII.2, 1324b1–7) Most see no difference between despotic rule — the rule of a master over slaves — and political rule — the rule of the free over the free and (more or less) equal. Just as most think happiness to consist in the possession of an abundance of external goods, so most desire despotic rule “because it provides much equipment in the goods of fortune.” (Pol VII.14, 1333b16–18)

This failure to distinguish forms of rule leads some to see domination over neighbors as the best life for the city as a whole. So “they are not ashamed to practice toward others what they deny is just or advantageous for themselves. For among themselves they seek to rule justly, but they care nothing for what is just toward others.” (Pol VII.2, 1324b32–36) But, Aristotle says, for the city to honor despotic rule, if only over neighbors, is perilous. For what the city honors as best, its citizens will too. If it is best for the city to rule over neighbors in order to abound in external goods, so it will be best for any citizen to rule over his fellow citizens for his advantage. (Pol VII.14) To honor despotic rule is to encourage citizens to an unhealthy ambition and greed, which is destructive of their political life. It also leads others to reject politics as such, as involving (or at least tending toward) unjust domination, whether of one’s neighbors or one’s fellow citizens.

When Aristotle turns to adjudicating the dispute, he takes neither side. “We must,” he says, “say to both [parties] that they argue rightly in some things and not rightly in others.” (Pol VII.3, 1325a18 and a23–24) The former reject political activity because they consider the life of a free person better than the life of a politician. The latter consider the life of a politician best because “it is impossible for one who does nothing to do well, and doing well and happiness are the same thing.” (Pol VII.3, 1325a21–23) According to the advocates of withdrawal, the life of a politician is not free; according to the advocates of political engagement, the life of a contemplative is not practical, since those who are not involved in politics do nothing.

Assessing their arguments, Aristotle says that the former are right to say that the life of a free person is better than that of a master, but they are wrong to consider all forms of rule despotic. There is a difference between rule over free persons and rule over slaves. Despotic rule is for the advantage of the ruler; political rule is for the advantage of the ruled, or for some advantage common to ruler and ruled. (Pol I.7; III.6) Aristotle agrees that there is nothing beautiful in ruling despotically. The master must simply know how to command what the slave must know how to do. And the things done by the slave are not beautiful actions, but merely useful services. (Pol I.7) By contrast, there is something beautiful in ruling politically. The political ruler must know what is to be done, by himself and his fellow citizens, that he and they be happy. But these are virtuous actions, which are themselves beautiful. So, to rule politically is to do well and to contribute to one’s fellow citizens doing well.

Likewise, Aristotle continues, the advocates of withdrawal are wrong “to praise inactivity over acting. For happiness is action, and, moreover, the actions of just and moderate persons accomplish many and beautiful things.” (Pol VII.3, 1325a31–34) The partisans of the quiet life go too far in their rejection of the busyness of public life. They reject not only despotic rule, but rule as such. Accepting their opponents’ equation of action with political engagement, they denigrate action as such. But, Aristotle insists, happiness is action and those who rule justly do many beautiful things.

But there is a danger in this insistence that happiness is action. For if happiness is action, one might think it best to maximize his scope for action by seeking to rule always. Because one’s happiness depends on it, he should strive to be in authority always, that he might always be in a position to do the most and the greatest actions. This might be true, Aristotle says, if it were just that one alone should rule and everyone else be ruled. But such a permanent division between ruler and ruled is just only when the ruler differs from the ruled as much as husband from wife, father from children, or master from slave. But among similar persons, what is just is ruling and being ruled by turns, for this is equal and similar. (Pol VII.3, 1325b7–10) To deprive one’s fellow citizens of any share in rule is treat them unjustly, and to appropriate more than one’s share of honor, power, and other political prerogatives. Because ruling and being ruled by turns is just among equals, just as monopolizing rule can be unjust, so too can avoiding it. For that would be to refuse to do one’s share to promote the common advantage; it would be to free-ride on the labor of one’s fellow citizens for the common good.

So, Aristotle concludes, “if these things have been beautifully said and happiness is to be set down as doing well, then the best life in common for every city and for each [person] would be a practical [life].” (Pol VII.3, 1325b14–16) “But,” he immediately adds, “what is practical is not necessarily [what is] toward others, as some think, nor are those thoughts alone practical which are for the sake of the results that come from action, but much more [practical are] those [thoughts] which are complete in themselves and those contemplations and thoughts that are for their own sake. For doing well is the end, and so it too is a certain action.” (Pol VII.3, 1325b16–21)

Since happiness is doing well, the best life for each individual and all in common is a practical life; but it is a practical life that includes contemplations and thoughts that are for their own sake. As ends of our action, things complete in themselves and sought for their own sake are causes of our action, and so are even more practical than the things done for their sake. Among such things complete in themselves for the sake of which we should act are certain contemplations and thoughts.

So, contrary to the opinion of its proponents, the political life is not the only, or even the most, practical life. More practical than actions done for the sake of what results are contemplations and thoughts which are sought for their own sake. Indeed, “even concerning external actions,” Aristotle says, “we say that those are above all acting authoritatively who by their thoughts are architects (or master craftsmen).” (Pol VII.3, 1325b21–23) The architect, who conceives the end for the sake of which the manual craftsmen work, is even more builder than they. Likewise, the one who conceives the end for the sake of which politicians act, is even more active than they. In politics, the master craftsman is the legislator; and his end is the best life that citizens can live. 

Aristotle concludes Book VII by examining the ends toward which citizens should be educated, if they are to live as well as they can. He presents a variety of distinctions of things pertaining to virtue and the happy life: within the soul, between desire and reason; within reason itself, between practical and contemplative; within life as a whole, between war and peace, occupation and leisure; within actions, between those directed toward necessary and useful things and those toward beautiful things. (Pol VII.14, 1333a17–28) In every case, Aristotle says, the latter are more ends than the former. Hence, they are more choiceworthy for those who can attain both; for what is most choiceworthy is always the highest one can attain. (Pol VII.14, 1333a28–31) 

Within life and actions, war is for the sake of peace, occupation for the sake of leisure, necessary and useful deeds for the sake of beautiful ones. So, Aristotle concludes, if citizens are to be happy, “the politician must legislate looking to all these things… but more toward the better things and the ends. And in the same way concerning lives and choices of practical affairs, for one should be able to be occupied and make war, but should rather remain at peace and in leisure, and one should do the necessary and useful things, but [more] the beautiful things. Thus it is with a view to such aims that they should be educated while children and during the other ages that require education.”  (Pol VII.14, 1333a37–1333b5) If they are to be happy, citizens should be able to be occupied and do necessary and useful things, but even more, to be able to be at leisure in peace and to do beautiful things and things worth doing for their own sake.

What virtues, then, should the legislator seek to instill in citizens that they might be able to be occupied when they must, but also, and even more, to be at leisure when they can? Since leisure is the end of occupation, “it is evident that the virtues directed to leisure should be present.” But the virtues useful with a view to leisure “are both those that have their work in leisure and those that have it in occupation” (Pol VII.15, 1334a16–18), for many necessary things must be present for the city to be at leisure. 

So, Aristotle says, the citizens must have courage and endurance to face dangers bravely, since there is no leisure for slaves; and the city that cannot defend itself risks being enslaved by its enemies. They must have moderation and justice, both when occupied and when at leisure, but “particularly when they remain at peace and are at leisure. For war compels them to be just and behave with moderation, while the enjoyment of good fortune and being at leisure in peace tend to make them arrogant.” (Pol VII.15, 1334a24–28) Those who are especially blessed “will above all be in need of philosophy and moderation and justice, inasmuch as they are more at leisure in the midst of an abundance of such good things.” (Pol VII.15, 1334a32–34). They will need moderation to see external goods as merely the equipment necessary for living well and not the substance of it. They will need justice to preserve their community, which exists for their common advantage. For what will they need philosophy?

They will need philosophy for the right use of leisure. By philosophy here, I do not think Aristotle means wisdom, or the other contemplative sciences, or indeed any intellectual virtue. Like the other virtues mentioned — courage, moderation, and justice — philosophy seems to be a moral virtue, a virtue that makes desire right, a habit of choosing. Philosophy in this sense disposes citizens to prefer things worth doing for their own sake. Such activities would include philosophy in the narrower sense — that is, the pursuit and consideration of the various sciences (above all the contemplative; above all the theological). But it also seems to include other ways of citizens’ passing time that are sought for their own sake and not for their results — for example, in festive celebration, familial, civic, and religious; in the enjoyment of musical, dramatic, and other artistic performances; in all sorts of leisured conversation among friends and fellow citizens, “sharing words and thoughts; for this is what living together would seem to mean in the case of human beings.” (NE IX.9, 1170b11–13)

So, in Aristotle’s view, the city that is going to be happy must be philosophical. Its citizens must see leisure as the end of their occupations and must strive to fill their leisure with activities worth doing for their own sake. Of course, what one’s life will be involves more than what one would wish. Each has always to do the best he can in the circumstances in which he finds himself, circumstances over which he has limited control. But, in Aristotle’s view, he should wish for no other life than this.

V. Conclusion

To conclude, let us return to George Washington.

I said at the beginning that Aristotle would approve of Washington’s willingness but not eagerness to serve his fellow citizens in public office. Were the reasons for his reluctance ones that Aristotle would approve? In particular, did Washington appreciate the good of leisure, for himself and his fellow citizens? Did he see the need for the virtues of leisure, that he and his fellow citizens might live well? In particular, did he recognize the need for philosophy (in the broad sense we have indicated)?

In a private letter before his election, in response to a friend’s suggestion that he make known to the public his willingness to serve as President, Washington gave three reasons for his “decided predeliction for the character of a private Citizen”: his “advanced season of life, [his] encreasing fondness for agricultural amusements, and [his] growing love of retirement…”

Washington’s first reason for wishing to remain in private life is just. He had already spent many years of his life in service to his country, laboring on behalf of the good of his fellow citizens. No one could accuse him of failing in patriotism or unjustly preferring his private to the common advantage. His second and third reasons, while not expressly philosophical, do suggest an appreciation for the value of leisure and leisured activities. Washington’s attachment to rural life was not principally economic. He cherished the pleasures of domestic intercourse and conversation among family and friends; the satisfaction of cultivating the land, of tending to the things under his care; and he was fascinated by the ways of the natural things around him. Some of those pleasures are philosophical, in a broad sense.

Yet his principal reason for being reluctant to put himself forward, he says, was other: 

Yet it would be no one of these motives, nor the hazard to which my former reputation might be exposed, or the terror of encountering new fatigues and troubles that would deter me from an acceptance — but a belief that some other person, who had less pretence and less inclination to be excused, could execute all the duties full as satisfactorily as myself.^[3]

Washington’s attitude is that of a good citizen: willing to labor for the common advantage even at his own expense when necessary; yet equally willing to leave that work to another similarly qualified if possible.

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