In Book III we will get our first fully described virtue, courage. Courage is not the most important virtue for Aristotle -- indeed, it is not even one of his major virtues -- but it is the easiest to conceptualize. It therefore serves as a useful model for the more theoretical ones.
First, however, he wants to say a few more words about the importance of choice on what is or isn't virtue. He has already said once that virtue is only about things where we make a choice; here he expands on that by considering some things that can make our actions compelled or involuntary.
Since virtue is concerned with passions and actions, and on voluntary passions and actions praise and blame are bestowed, on those that are involuntary pardon, and sometimes also pity, to distinguish the voluntary and the involuntary is presumably necessary for those who are studying the nature of virtue, and useful also for legislators with a view to the assigning both of honours and of punishments. Those things, then, are thought-involuntary, which take place under compulsion or owing to ignorance; and that is compulsory of which the moving principle is outside, being a principle in which nothing is contributed by the person who is acting or is feeling the passion, e.g. if he were to be carried somewhere by a wind, or by men who had him in their power.
Emphasis added. This notion of the principle of action being outside is exactly parallel to his model in Physics II.1: "Of things that exist, some exist by nature, some from other causes." These 'things' include motions, so if a motion of yours (e.g. an action) exists, either it was caused by your own nature, or it was caused by something else. If it was caused by your nature -- your quest for food, or love, or honor -- then it was an action of yours that must be judged (although it could still have been done in ignorance). If it was caused by something else, like men forcing you as their prisoner, then it was not your action at all: it was involuntary.
But with regard to the things that are done from fear of greater evils or for some noble object (e.g. if a tyrant were to order one to do something base, having one's parents and children in his power, and if one did the action they were to be saved, but otherwise would be put to death), it may be debated whether such actions are involuntary or voluntary.
As already mentioned, Aristotle will endorse a notion of justice that requires laws that compel virtue; but we will also see that he doesn't value such actions as real examples of the virtue. Hector's courage, for example, he will compare to a soldier whose action on the battlefield is driven by the law rather than by an inner drive; being at least partly externally compelled, it doesn't count for as much in the final judgment.
Something of the sort happens also with regard to the throwing of goods overboard in a storm; for in the abstract no one throws goods away voluntarily, but on condition of its securing the safety of himself and his crew any sensible man does so. Such actions, then, are mixed, but are more like voluntary actions; for they are worthy of choice at the time when they are done, and the end of an action is relative to the occasion. Both the terms, then, 'voluntary' and 'involuntary', must be used with reference to the moment of action. Now the man acts voluntarily; for the principle that moves the instrumental parts of the body in such actions is in him, and the things of which the moving principle is in a man himself are in his power to do or not to do. Such actions, therefore, are voluntary, but in the abstract perhaps involuntary; for no one would choose any such act in itself.
Emphasis added. As in I.3, where we were talking about things that are true "probably" or "for the most part," here too we end up having to make some pragmatic distinctions. It's not a binary: some things are sort-of voluntary, or closer-to voluntary, but there are elements of the involuntary present, unchosen considerations like the storm.
For such actions men are sometimes even praised, when they endure something base or painful in return for great and noble objects gained; in the opposite case they are blamed, since to endure the greatest indignities for no noble end or for a trifling end is the mark of an inferior person. On some actions praise indeed is not bestowed, but pardon is, when one does what he ought not under pressure which overstrains human nature and which no one could withstand. But some acts, perhaps, we cannot be forced to do, but ought rather to face death after the most fearful sufferings; for the things that 'forced' Euripides Alcmaeon to slay his mother seem absurd. It is difficult sometimes to determine what should be chosen at what cost, and what should be endured in return for what gain, and yet more difficult to abide by our decisions; for as a rule what is expected is painful, and what we are forced to do is base, whence praise and blame are bestowed on those who have been compelled or have not.
After the jump, more on how to decide what is compulsory, is not, and how to balance the judgments. I won't break this chapter up into multiple parts; it's fairly straightforward.
What sort of acts, then, should be called compulsory? We answer that without qualification actions are so when the cause is in the external circumstances and the agent contributes nothing. But the things that in themselves are involuntary, but now and in return for these gains are worthy of choice, and whose moving principle is in the agent, are in themselves involuntary, but now and in return for these gains voluntary. They are more like voluntary acts; for actions are in the class of particulars, and the particular acts here are voluntary. What sort of things are to be chosen, and in return for what, it is not easy to state; for there are many differences in the particular cases.
But if some one were to say that pleasant and noble objects have a compelling power, forcing us from without, all acts would be for him compulsory; for it is for these objects that all men do everything they do. And those who act under compulsion and unwillingly act with pain, but those who do acts for their pleasantness and nobility do them with pleasure; it is absurd to make external circumstances responsible, and not oneself, as being easily caught by such attractions, and to make oneself responsible for noble acts but the pleasant objects responsible for base acts. The compulsory, then, seems to be that whose moving principle is outside, the person compelled contributing nothing.
Just as in the end of Book II Aristotle suggested rejecting pleasure as a consideration -- likening it to the advice of the elders to send Helen back to the ships -- here too he is rejecting both the pleasant and the noble as "compelling" us. We have to be responsible for our choices to pursue pleasing and noble things; we can't claim compulsion insofar as that was our object.
Everything that is done by reason of ignorance is not voluntary; it is only what produces pain and repentance that is involuntary. For the man who has done something owing to ignorance, and feels not the least vexation at his action, has not acted voluntarily, since he did not know what he was doing, nor yet involuntarily, since he is not pained. Of people, then, who act by reason of ignorance he who repents is thought an involuntary agent, and the man who does not repent may, since he is different, be called a not voluntary agent; for, since he differs from the other, it is better that he should have a name of his own.
That distinction between "not voluntary" and "involuntary" is one I think is unique to Aristotle. It's a very fine distinction. You can't say that an action chosen in ignorance was voluntary; but it is only proper to make the stronger claim that it was involuntary if, once you know what you did, you feel pain and regret about it. If you're happy with the outcome it still wasn't voluntary, but it doesn't get the stronger note of having been involuntary.
It isn't obvious that this distinction is tenable, but if it is Aristotle's teleological structure may be required to support it. If we are caused pain by the thing after the fact it is because the action turns out to violate our nature, or our telos, in some basic way. If not, it was just happenstance: not something we voluntarily chose, but also not something that violates our internal principle of what is choice-worthy.
Acting by reason of ignorance seems also to be different from acting in ignorance; for the man who is drunk or in a rage is thought to act as a result not of ignorance but of one of the causes mentioned, yet not knowingly but in ignorance.
This is another slightly curious distinction. Normally drunkenness is no excuse in ethics; rarely do we think that the man who chose to become drunk didn't, at least in a way, choose everything he did while drunk.
Now every wicked man is ignorant of what he ought to do and what he ought to abstain from, and it is by reason of error of this kind that men become unjust and in general bad; but the term 'involuntary' tends to be used not if a man is ignorant of what is to his advantage- for it is not mistaken purpose that causes involuntary action (it leads rather to wickedness), nor ignorance of the universal (for that men are blamed), but ignorance of particulars, i.e. of the circumstances of the action and the objects with which it is concerned. For it is on these that both pity and pardon depend, since the person who is ignorant of any of these acts involuntarily.
Just working out the Socratic objections to that paragraph is probably worth a whole journal article, which is beyond the scope of this blog post. It would be a useful exercise sometime when the present business is resolved.
Perhaps it is just as well, therefore, to determine their nature and number. A man may be ignorant, then, of who he is, what he is doing, what or whom he is acting on, and sometimes also what (e.g. what instrument) he is doing it with, and to what end (e.g. he may think his act will conduce to some one's safety), and how he is doing it (e.g. whether gently or violently). Now of all of these no one could be ignorant unless he were mad, and evidently also he could not be ignorant of the agent; for how could he not know himself? But of what he is doing a man might be ignorant, as for instance people say 'it slipped out of their mouths as they were speaking', or 'they did not know it was a secret', as Aeschylus said of the mysteries, or a man might say he 'let it go off when he merely wanted to show its working', as the man did with the catapult.
Yes, accidents happen with artillery. One unit I was with in Iraq once killed a whole family quite entirely by mistake because an illumination round didn't open in midair as was intended both by the artillerymen and the manufacturer, but fell whole upon a house and exploded therein. This is a good example of a very serious moral action that was, however, involuntary. I was involved in negotiating the settlement with the tribe, which was based on the principle of the diyya. They were surprisingly understanding that it was just an accident and negotiated a blood-price in good faith.
Again, one might think one's son was an enemy, as Merope did, or that a pointed spear had a button on it, or that a stone was pumicestone; or one might give a man a draught to save him, and really kill him;* or one might want to touch a man, as people do in sparring, and really wound him. The ignorance may relate, then, to any of these things, i.e. of the circumstances of the action, and the man who was ignorant of any of these is thought to have acted involuntarily, and especially if he was ignorant on the most important points; and these are thought to be the circumstances of the action and its end. Further, the doing of an act that is called involuntary in virtue of ignorance of this sort must be painful and involve repentance.
* Once again, pharmakon meant both 'medicine' and 'poison' in Ancient Greek, as 'drug' can in English.
Since that which is done under compulsion or by reason of ignorance is involuntary, the voluntary would seem to be that of which the moving principle is in the agent himself, he being aware of the particular circumstances of the action. Presumably acts done by reason of anger or appetite are not rightly called involuntary.
Indeed, all of us quite voluntarily pursue our dinner at the appropriate time; I often give quite a bit of thought to it first. So do animals, who will let you know when it is dinner time if you forget.
For in the first place, on that showing none of the other animals will act voluntarily, nor will children; and secondly, is it meant that we do not do voluntarily any of the acts that are due to appetite or anger, or that we do the noble acts voluntarily and the base acts involuntarily? Is not this absurd, when one and the same thing is the cause? But it would surely be odd to describe as involuntary the things one ought to desire; and we ought both to be angry at certain things and to have an appetite for certain things, e.g. for health and for learning. Also what is involuntary is thought to be painful, but what is in accordance with appetite is thought to be pleasant. Again, what is the difference in respect of involuntariness between errors committed upon calculation and those committed in anger? Both are to be avoided, but the irrational passions are thought not less human than reason is, and therefore also the actions which proceed from anger or appetite are the man's actions. It would be odd, then, to treat them as involuntary.
"Crimes of passion," then, don't get an out as involuntary -- not even if you regret them later. You are likewise responsible for how you handle any of your appetites.
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