In his Nichomachean Ethics, Aristotle
spends the first 9 chapters examining what “the ethical life” is and how to
attain it. But, in the final chapter he simply states that the happy life is
“the contemplative life”. So, there is a long train of thought that culminates
in explaining what the function of a human being is and claiming that “the
good” resides in it. Furthermore, he puts forth an elaborate, somewhat
compelling, teleological argument that basically states if the happiest lives
non-gods can attain is that which approximates the gods’ lives (the happiest
life), and if our only similarity to gods is our ability to contemplate, then
the most contemplative humans will live the happiest lives. This argument,
while undoubtedly compelling and possibly convincing in ancient times, simply
breaks down with modern information in psychology, neuroscience, and similar
fields.
For centuries, the Function Argument
has been one of the most hotly debated ideas in philosophy. In essence,
Aristotle develops the idea that humans have a particular function. And, it is
within this function that the “good” resides in accordance with virtue. By
virtue, Aristotle means a quality that makes one good at performing one’s
function. As well, he narrows human function down to three possibilities: 1.
the life of nutrition and growth; 2. the life of perception; and, 3. the active
life of the element that has a rational principle. After ruling out the first
two, he settles on the third as being peculiar
to human beings. Essentially, this argument seems to be teleological in
that it establishes a baseline for human function as being that which most
closely approximates the lives of the gods. Moreover, the language used by
Aristotle leads to ambiguity when defining the term function; i.e., it is
often conflated with purpose. And,
while it may be commonplace to synonymously interpret these terms, it is
actually upon these subtle differences that Aristotle’s argument rests. In
other words, describing an object’s function, i.e., how something does what it does, is much different than describing
its purpose, i.e., what it does.
Aristotle essentially spends the first nine chapters of the book fleshing out dismissals
of popular conceptions of happiness, elaborate descriptions of human function,
and explanations on why human function is important to our sense of moral
virtue, only to, almost nonchalantly, wave his hand at all of it in chapter 10
by simply exclaiming that the happy life is “the contemplative life”. What
makes the Function Argument itself so appealing to humans, however, is that it
attempts not only to define our function but also to separate our function from
that of all other forms of life that we know of by saying that it is through
our rational activity, i.e., how we do
what we do, that we are unique. Hence, the debate continues. So, how does
the Function Argument hold up to scrutiny when compared to popular conceptions
of happiness?
One might claim that gaining a lot
of money can lead to happiness. For instance, in at least the case of winning
the lottery, by Aristotle’s standards the basic supposition is that one is
acting in accordance with some rational principle. However, the odds are well
known to be stacked so far against an individual as to be almost frivolous.
Yet, millions of people still play—some even becoming so entranced by the
delusion of the prospect of winning that they can be considered addicted,
sometimes selling their houses and cars for it. But, there is no doubt that if
they do win, they will be happy. For, they will have access to all of the
things they believe will make them happy, even if it is temporary. So, are we
to suppose that the purpose of a human being is to try to win and that the
function is to try to win well? Is that rational?
Happiness, another might argue, is
doing what one loves to do. If one finds ultimate joy in knitting scarfs, but
their scarfs are sights of horror to most in society, then, by the Function
Argument, that person is not fulfilling their function since they did not knit
the scarfs well. But, this is plainly ridiculous by the fact that they are
happy irrespective of other people’s opinions. In fact, the knitter likely
doesn’t even care about what their presupposed function is. And, it doesn’t matter
whether people do like their scarfs;
they are happy in any case when knitting them. In other words, the assumed
function—to perform the purpose, in this case knitting, well—is irrelevant when determining happiness.
Still others may offer the idea that
the only way one might gain happiness is through their acceptance by others.
For example, a guitar virtuoso obviously performs in an almost unparalleled
manner; i.e., he plays the guitar well. However, if people ignore him, he may
feel distanced, alone, and perhaps even depressed. Despite how well he plays
the guitar, in itself, it does not equal happiness for him. Instead, it is only
through others listening to his playing, buying his albums, and frequenting his
shows, i.e., through their acceptance,
that he feels happiness. So, is it reasonable to claim that being accepted well is how this virtuoso
fulfills his function? Of course not! That would imply that his purpose is to
be accepted by others. And, this leaves a rather large gap in the logic
utilized here; i.e., what if he kills someone? Is it still his purpose to be
accepted by others? Considering that neither is his function of playing guitar
well conducive to happiness, it is obvious that the Function Argument isn’t
justified here.
The Function Argument, as Aristotle
explains it, is fundamentally dependent upon his idea of virtues and how they essentially
consist in the rational activity mentioned before. Admittedly, within the
framework of Aristotle’s way of viewing virtues, purpose, and function, his
Function Argument seems to be applicable in a number of circumstances. However,
the entire argument obviously assumes that human beings have a purpose or a function. But, there is nothing in nature that
indicates humans have to have a
purpose or a function; nor is there a
wholly objective scale with which we can compare semantically ambiguous,
relative, descriptive terminology, such as how well something is done by someone, effectively rendering the
argument itself obsolete.
In terms of the former, humans have
a knack for assigning purpose and function to practically everything. But, is
that prudent? For example, many ancient societies attributed lightning to gods.
We now understand electromagnetism quite well and realize that such notions are
antiquated and unnecessary. In other words, gods
smiting humans with lightning may have been compelling in ancient times,
but nowadays it is a well understood phenomenon and we don’t need quaint,
fear-mongering stories to explain it. Another example is if we say that the
purpose of a human is to live and the function of a human is to live
happily, how do we justify billions of people around the planet living in
abject poverty? Do we simply repeat the age old adage that ignorance is bliss? I say no.
This is a sad copout of a supposedly
intelligent species. Clearly, the socioeconomic paradigm that perpetuates this
poverty barely allows these people to even live; let alone live well. So, happiness is a rather difficult idea to define if
our notions regarding it can be imposed upon us without understanding our
capacity both for it and to understand different perspectives of it. In terms of economics, as another
example I will ask: what is the purpose
of an economic system? And, does our economic model fulfill that purpose
well?
The term economy comes from the ancient Greek word oikonomos, which translates to “household management”. So, it
would be reasonable to claim that the purpose of an economy is to manage a
household, and its function is to do it well. But, what is our household?
Earth, of course! We tend to disregard the fact that Earth is essentially a
closed, finite, interdependent system but it is, nevertheless, our household. None of the borders that
we see drawn on typically disproportionate maps, i.e. maps that show Africa
much smaller than it actually is in relation with the other land masses,
actually exist. Nature doesn’t care that we tell ourselves that our separate
countries have meaning because in the grand scheme, they simply do not. So, do we
even manage the household? Well, sort of.
We have a giant machine churning out
economic slaves of easily manipulated opinions so everything seems fine and dandy to a vast majority of
people. We have transportation infrastructure, we can fly around the world, we
can flip a switch and instantly illuminate an entire room, we can sit in front
of a computer and access the entirety of humankind’s knowledgebase; but, we also
destroy the very environment which we are dependent upon. We dump toxic waste
into fresh water supplies, we burn fossil fuels which release millions of tons
of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere that sustains us, we kill other species
en masse for fun and call it sport; we have successfully accelerated
the natural warming/cooling cycle of the planet yet continue to passively elect
cretins that have no problem using the fruits of science but deny its efficacy
every chance they get. Surely, the
hypocrisy is blatantly obvious here. But, the rest of the population is so
distracted with and bogged down by the notion that we have to have money, that the system continues unabated and
unquestioned. Again, does it work? Yes; but only if you are “lucky” enough to
be born into a modern industrialized nation. If you are not born into such a country, then there is a word to describe such
relatively unfortunate circumstances: fucked.
And what about the function of an economy;
i.e. Does our economic model perform its function of managing a household well? Absolutely not! Nature is the only
dictatorship and it doesn’t care what we think, believe in, or speculate on.
Therefore, the only way to manage our household, Earth, well is to learn about
nature and align with its natural processes. Anything less will simply be a
cycle of the same exploitative, destructive methods that have been employed for
far too long.
Regarding money, the current
socioeconomic paradigm is inextricably interlinked with a monetary/market
system that almost no one bothers to learn about. Instead, we are forced into
believing that we need money. Never
mind where it comes from, what it represents, or whether it’s even relevant in
our digital age. We are told that all we need
to know is that we need money.
Thus, the edifice of all of our wants and the rest of our needs becomes a
direct outgrowth of this indoctrinated, unsubstantiated claim; i.e., our wants,
needs, and conceptions of happiness are artificially imposed. And this
unfortunately continues mostly without question and with total obedience. So, can we really claim that when
happenstance bestows a large sum of money upon someone that it automatically
means they will be happy because they can go out and buy all of the crap that
they have been bombarded with their entire lives by advertising agencies
telling them that their life sucks unless they buy the latest, greatest whatever? How could it possibly be
considered rational to partake in
something so unreasonably, yet obviously, unfair?
It seems reasonable at first to
concede that doing what one loves undoubtedly leads to one’s happiness.
However, a number of flaws become apparent when examining this claim, two of
which will be outlined here. First, what if, as was the case with the lottery
winner and perhaps all of society, the conceptions of what one loves as well as
what one deems “happiness” have been imposed upon them? In other words, how is
one supposed to know, say, without having experienced much in life, that what
they view as love and happiness is accurate or objectively
(that is, being as objective as we are capable of being) correct? Secondly, and
this hinges on the first, what if someone loves to kill and eat babies, as
Albert Fish once did?
Finally, gaining happiness through
the acceptance of others is essentially the same thing as having the concept of
happiness imposed. But, this time one is actively seeking this type of imposition
outright which seems to indicate they have lost any semblance of self-worth. In
other words, they feel as though there is no possible way to bring into
fruition self-induced happiness. So, what this amounts to is artificial,
presupposed conceptions of happiness being readily accepted from others without
question. But, when the fans leave, as in the case of the virtuoso, the
happiness leaves with them. And so, he fails to recognize that the most
powerful resource on the planet also happens to be the only thing conducive to true happiness—his own mind.
In closing, Aristotle was
undoubtedly an incredible thinker. His Function Argument stands as a testament
to how well-reasoned ideas are timeless. There is a reason that not only
Aristotle, but many other ancient philosophers are still heavily emphasized in
ethics today. (Of course, I recognize that the former statement can be
construed to nullify my entire argument about purpose and function, but I’m
going to wave my hand at that for the following punchline.) It shows how no
matter where we are from, or even what era we are from, humans are far more
similar than different. We tend to look back at ancient civilizations, using
words such as primitive to describe
them, and present arguments for how civilized
we have become. Lest we forget that although ancient Egyptians built some of
the most amazing architectural marvels in humankind’s history, they too
worshipped cats—just as we are doing
today.
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