Introduction
Aristotle, as one of the foundational thinkers of Western philosophy, your work in the *Nicomachean Ethics* has shaped countless discussions on citizenship and the good life. I approach your text with deep respect, recognising the immense influence of your ideas on how we understand virtue, happiness, and societal roles. Yet, as a fellow participant in the ongoing conversation of human thought, I must address a lingering ambiguity in your philosophy—specifically, the concept of *eudaimonia*, or flourishing, which you place at the heart of the good life. While your framework offers profound insights, the lack of clarity around how *eudaimonia* is to be concretely understood or achieved creates a residual problem with significant implications. In this essay, I will explore this ambiguity by examining key passages from your text, articulating the nature of the uncertainty, and reflecting on why this matters for our understanding of citizenship and ethical living. My aim is not to undermine your brilliance but to engage critically, pushing our shared inquiry forward. Thus, my thesis is this: Aristotle, your concept of *eudaimonia*, though central to your ethics, remains ambiguous in its practical application, leaving readers uncertain about how to pursue the good life in a tangible way, which in turn complicates the notion of virtuous citizenship.
The Concept of Eudaimonia: A Noble yet Vague Ideal
Aristotle, in the opening of the *Nicomachean Ethics*, you assert that “every action and pursuit is thought to aim at some good” and that the ultimate good for humans is *eudaimonia*, often translated as happiness or flourishing (Aristotle, 2009, p. 3). Indeed, this idea feels instinctively compelling; we all seek a state of fulfilment in our lives. You define *eudaimonia* as “an activity of the soul in accordance with virtue” over a complete life, suggesting it is not a fleeting emotion but a sustained condition tied to rational excellence (Aristotle, 2009, p. 17). Here, you anchor the good life in ethical behaviour and self-realisation—a powerful notion for shaping citizenship, as it implies that good individuals contribute to a good society.
However, the challenge arises when I seek to grasp what eudaimonia looks like in practice. You offer virtues like courage, temperance, and justice as pathways to this state, yet the specifics remain elusive. For instance, how does one balance these virtues in everyday decisions? If I, as a citizen, aim to be just, how do I weigh personal sacrifice against communal good when the two conflict? Your text provides principles but often lacks illustrative clarity or a definitive method to navigate such tensions. This ambiguity, while perhaps intentional to allow for flexibility, leaves a gap between theory and application that feels particularly pressing when considering the demands of citizenship, which often requires concrete actions in complex social contexts.
The Implications for Citizenship: A Gap Between Ideal and Reality
Turning to the implications of this ambiguity, Aristotle, I find that your vision of the good life as tied to *eudaimonia* creates uncertainty for how one should act as a citizen. You argue that the purpose of the state is to enable individuals to achieve the good life, stating that “the state or political community… aims at good in a greater degree than any other” (Aristotle, 2009, p. 5). This suggests a symbiotic relationship between individual virtue and societal well-being, a concept that remains relevant in contemporary discussions of civic duty. Yet, without a clear understanding of what *eudaimonia* entails on a personal level, how can citizens or leaders craft policies or communal practices that foster it?
Consider, for instance, your discussion of friendship as a component of the good life. You describe three types—based on pleasure, utility, and virtue—and elevate the last as the truest form, essential to eudaimonia (Aristotle, 2009, p. 143). This is insightful, as it underscores the relational aspect of flourishing. But what does this mean for a citizen in a diverse polis, where not all relationships can be rooted in shared virtue due to differing values or social roles? The ambiguity here risks rendering your ideal unattainable or, worse, exclusionary, as it might prioritise certain relationships over others without clarifying how to cultivate virtue across divides. As I reflect on this, I feel a lingering unease: your philosophy sets a high standard for personal and civic life, but the lack of specificity about achieving eudaimonia makes it feel like a distant, almost abstract goal rather than a practical guide.
Why This Ambiguity Matters
Aristotle, the ambiguity surrounding *eudaimonia* is not merely a minor interpretive quibble; it matters deeply because it touches on the core of how we conceptualise ethical living and civic responsibility. Your work is not just a historical artefact but a living text that continues to inform philosophical debates and educational curricula. Scholars like Nussbaum (1986) have noted that your ethics, while profoundly influential, often leave modern readers grappling with how to translate ancient ideals into contemporary contexts. If *eudaimonia* remains unclear, it risks becoming a rhetorical flourish rather than a functional aim for individuals or societies.
Moreover, this residual problem invites us to question whether the good life and virtuous citizenship can ever be universally defined, or whether they must remain context-dependent, shaped by culture, era, and personal circumstance. Your ambiguity, though perhaps a limitation, also opens a space for dialogue—an invitation, if you will, to keep wrestling with these questions. For students like myself engaging with your text in a university honours course, this uncertainty is both frustrating and thought-provoking. It compels us to think critically about how we define flourishing in our own lives and communities, even as we struggle with the lack of a concrete blueprint in your writings.
Conclusion
In conclusion, Aristotle, I must commend the enduring power of your *Nicomachean Ethics* to inspire deep reflection on the good life and citizenship. Your concept of *eudaimonia* stands as a beacon of human aspiration, tying personal virtue to communal good in a way that remains profoundly relevant. Yet, the ambiguity surrounding what *eudaimonia* truly means and how it can be achieved presents a significant challenge, one that leaves readers like me uncertain about its practical pursuit. This residual problem matters because it affects how we interpret your philosophy as a guide for ethical living and civic engagement, raising questions about whether such ideals can ever be fully clarified or must remain inherently fluid. Far from diminishing your work, this ambiguity enriches it, encouraging ongoing debate and personal introspection. As I close, I am left not with answers but with a renewed commitment to grapple with these complexities—a fitting outcome, perhaps, for engaging with a thinker as nuanced as you. My hope is that this critique contributes, however modestly, to the great conversation of Western thought, pushing us to refine our understanding of what it means to live well and act justly in the world.
References
- Aristotle. (2009) Nicomachean Ethics. Translated by W.D. Ross. Oxford University Press.
- Nussbaum, M.C. (1986) The Fragility of Goodness: Luck and Ethics in Greek Tragedy and Philosophy. Cambridge University Press.
