Aristotle & the Habit of Character · Chapter 5 of 6
Virtue Ethics & Eudaimonia
On the shift from asking what to do, to asking who to become.
3 min read
Almost every ethical framework you have met asks a question about actions. Is this act right? Does it produce the most good? Could its rule be universal? Aristotle starts somewhere else, and the shift is easy to miss because it sounds like a softer version of the same thing. It is not. His question is: what kind of person should I become?
The reason this is a different question, rather than a vaguer one, is that character is what actually decides conduct in the cases that matter. Nobody consults a moral framework when they are tired, angry, unobserved and under pressure. What operates then is whatever you have become. So a theory that produces correct verdicts about trolley problems but has nothing to say about how a person is built has skipped the part that does the work.
His target is eudaimonia, usually translated as happiness, which is misleading enough to be worth stopping on. Happiness in English names a feeling, and feelings come and go. Eudaimonia is closer to flourishing, and it is an activity rather than a mood; something a life does rather than something a person feels. Aristotle is blunt that it can only be assessed across a whole life. One swallow does not make a summer, he says, and one good afternoon does not make a life go well.
How does he decide what a flourishing human life consists of? Through an argument that is elegant and, to modern readers, the weakest part of the structure. A knife is a good knife if it cuts well. A flautist is good if they play well. Anything with a characteristic activity is judged by doing that activity excellently. So what is the characteristic activity of a human being? Not growth, which plants share. Not sensation, which animals share. What is left is reasoning. Therefore the human good is the activity of the soul in accordance with reason, done excellently, over a complete life.
Now the practical core. Virtues are the excellences that make you good at that activity, and they are acquired the way skills are acquired: by doing them. You learn to build by building and to play the harp by playing it. Likewise, he says, we become just by doing just acts, temperate by doing temperate acts, brave by doing brave acts. There is no shortcut through understanding, which is a direct break with Socrates. You can grasp the definition of courage perfectly and still be a coward, because the definition lives in your head and courage lives in your habits.
This has a consequence people find hard. For Aristotle, doing the right thing while hating it is not the finished article. Virtue includes taking pleasure in the right things, so the person who gives generously and resents every penny is on the way rather than there. Kant would later say something close to the opposite (that acting from duty against your inclination is what shows moral worth most clearly) and the disagreement between them is one of the sharpest in ethics.
The standard complaint about all this is that it gives no guidance. Told to do what a virtuous person would do, someone facing a genuinely hard decision is no better off. Aristotle's answer is that this is the honest position, and that any rule specific enough to settle hard cases would be wrong somewhere else. What fills the gap is phronesis, practical wisdom: the judgement that sees what this particular situation calls for. It cannot be written down, only developed, which is why he thinks a good upbringing is an extraordinary piece of luck and a bad one a lasting handicap.
We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act but a habit.
Where you'll meet this
'Habit stacking', identity-based habits ('be the kind of person who...') and athlete training culture are pure Aristotle: character is built by reps.