Virtue Is A Virtue
Examining the paths of Laozi and Aristotle
Being a person is hard–being a good one is doubly so
One of humanity’s all-time favorite pastimes has been telling each other what’s right, what’s wrong, and what we all ought to be doing. From Hammurabi to Kant, we’ve tried many different sets of ideas, or different flavors of the same ideas, but people have never really changed. Paths vary, and the approaches often do as well, but the end result is often the same: ideals of virtue.
But what does it mean to be virtuous?
Even Judaism with its 613 mandatory rules have an official summary that can be given on one foot: That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow. That is the whole Torah; all the rest is commentary.
And the “one foot” thing could be pretty much summed up for most belief systems and moral codes. Here are a few more for good measure:
Christianity: Love your neighbor as yourself.
Hinduism: This is the sum of duty: Do not do to others what would cause pain if done to you.
Buddhism: Avoid evil, do good, purify the mind.
Jainism: In happiness and suffering, in joy and grief, regard all creatures as you would regard your own self.
It seems simple enough. Be nice, be considerate, live well. It’s not much more complicated than that when you get down to it.
But what’s the method for living this way? We’re all so complicated, how do we begin finally behaving?
Hundreds of philosophers, lawmakers, and prophets will give you their own methods, but they are often very specific and rigid in their prescriptions, so we want something broadly applicable and intuitive in practice.
That being said, we’re just going to focus on two teachers today that touch upon two parallel paths on the approach we’re looking for: Laozi and Aristotle.
Why these two?
There are two reasons I’m referring to Laozi and Aristotle. The first is that both teachers give excellent advice on the path to intuitive virtue for two opposite types of people while emphasizing methodology over dogma. In their own ways, I think each of these guys nailed it.
Life is complex and requires flexibility within the constant flux of circumstances. Therefore, we are discussing two ways to develop an intuitive compass for virtuous living: one for the surrendering mystic, and one for those not yet able to let go but who strive for virtuous intuition nonetheless.
The second reason is the mainstream religious significance. Chinese spiritual tradition is strongly shaped by Laozi. Not only did Laozi found Daoism, but multiple schools of Chinese Buddhism have incorporated his ideas. And Aristotle not only shaped Western philosophy broadly, but Thomas Aquinas’s adoption of his ideas brought his teachings great relevance within Catholicism. Aquinas baptised and refined Aristotle’s ideas, but they nonetheless were thanks to the great Greek thinker.
All that being said, Aristotle and Laozi aren’t the end-all, and I encourage you all to look wherever wisdom on the topic presents itself.
Day to De Virtue: for the mystics
Laozi, the author of the Dao De Jing, discussed being in harmony with the flow of nature. Wonderful advice on the topic was discussed in the last post in which we covered the Dao, which is the natural flow of the universe. In short, for those who don’t remember, living a peaceful, joyful, good life is achievable through wu wei: letting go of resistance to life and embracing each situation with effortless action—a state of mental ease in all exertion, performed in harmony with the Dao.
Building upon that perspective is the term ziran, meaning naturalness. It’s a paradoxical state of spontaneous freedom paired with a selfless lack of separateness from the world around you. With ziran comes impeccable guiding intuition. Once one has started living in accordance with the Dao through the application of wu wei, they become a part of the natural process itself. They are now one with the universe around them and within them and living a life of good. And when I say good, I mean it in the highest sense—both in terms of well-being and action.
In a state of ziran, you flow through life like a breeze, responding intuitively to each situation, even emergencies, with effortless wisdom. You don’t really have a choice in anything, because you always know what the right choice is, and making it is as natural as breathing.
That’s where virtue comes in. The word for virtue in Daoism is de, which also means “power” or “inner potency”–the ability to channel the power of the natural order through embodying the Dao. You will never lack, as your attunement to the universe will leave you with a deep intuition and capacity to deal with any situation you flow into.
You will be able to sense what those around you need and what your role is in delivering it to them. You will know what you shouldn’t offer despite your ability to do so. The unfolding of events will be clear to you, and you will simply dance along with the choreography supplied to you by your intuition.
And now something Greek: for the rationalists
On the opposite end of philosophy, both ideologically and regionally, is Aristotle. Aristotle, generally being more of a rationalist than a mystic, had a completely different approach from Laozi. While Laozi teaches that letting go into natural harmony leads to effortless virtue, Aristotle’s thesis is that working hard to cultivate virtue will lead to that natural harmony. Unlike Laozi’s idea that harmony is the default state, Aristotle described harmony as the end goal of a cultivated habit of virtue.
What exactly is a habit of virtue? Don’t worry, Aristotle’s got us covered.
Aristotle used the word arete for virtue, a word that also means “excellence.” Aristotle teaches there are two types of virtue: moral and intellectual. Moral virtue is cultivated through actions, while intellectual virtue is cultivated through learning, but since both facets of arete are rooted in mental reasoning, a combination of each is necessary to live a truly virtuous life.
For Aristotle, virtue is the ability to be excellent in rationalizing what’s known as the Golden Mean, the perfect middle ground between extremes, and to act accordingly. For a prominent example, courage is the perfect sweet spot between recklessness and cowardice. A proper application of courageous behavior will then cultivate your habit of virtue.
For a more relatable example, think of a time you had to tell the truth at the risk of hurting someone’s feelings. The ability to handle that situation in a graceful manner where all moral obligations are met is a sign that the doer has found the perfect balance within the scenario. A truly virtuous person can successfully say, “Yes, that dress does make your ass look fat, but in reality, your ass is phenomenal and it’s just because the dress is atrocious. But do change your outfit and also perhaps your lifestyle.” Once you figure out how to have those discussions, they will become more natural to you.
Once you develop a habit of virtue, you achieve the Aristotelian ideal of a happy, good life: eudaimonia. Eudaimonia is a state of being in which you live harmoniously with the flow of life around you—not from selfless surrender, but self-mastery. Instead of the spiritual intuition of Laozi’s teachings, eudaimonia is accompanied by an ingrained practical wisdom known as phronesis, which is the ability to calculate the Golden Mean quickly and see the right path in any given circumstance.
Phronesis, much like ziran, is the inherent knowingness that comes from harmonizing with life. It’s like our ability to do basic arithmetic in our heads but using the Golden Mean instead of figuring out 10% tips. Sometimes reasoning is required, but cultivated intellectual virtue should have you covered with the calculus.
Some quick calculations
As you can see, Aristotle and Laozi’s paths to virtue are practically and internally different, but they manifest similarly in the world. So which one should you choose?
That depends on where you currently are mentally and spiritually.
If you’re ready to let go into mysticism, the path of Laozi is the one I recommend. It’s not easy, but letting go into the flow of the universe is a naturalistic state and a beautiful process. To be one with all is a profoundly loving experience and gets easy once you get the hang of being an expression of the Dao. I will, at some point, write about the turbulence of that path and the fluctuations between somebodiness and nobodiness, something I and many other mystics must contend with.
If you’re not particularly trusting of the universe or are skeptical of spirituality, if you think the path of discipline and mastery is what speaks more to you, then the path of Aristotle is the one for you. Once you’ve achieved a state of harmony through the eudaimonia route, perhaps your newfound comfort zone could provide the space to experiment with mysticism later on if you so choose.
But at the end of the day, we’re discussing intuitive action. If your heart, stomach, head, or some other chunk of your body tells you one path is what’s right for you, give it some consideration. There’s no harm in investigating any paths as long as you do so carefully.
And one more thing
There’s no rush and no need to worry. If you’re trying to strike a balance in your life, forcing harmony isn’t gonna be the answer. Whether you’re pursuing ziran or eudaimonia, the first step is to meet reality where it’s at, befriending it as best as you can. Neither path works if you try to force yourself onto it. Surrender must come from an acceptance of where you are and aren’t, while developments of habits must come from an understanding of your present proclivities and inclinations. And that’s perfectly quite alright. Whatever path you choose, stroll and admire both the flowers and the potholes.
“Once you develop a habit of virtue, you achieve the Aristotelian ideal of a happy, good life: eudaimonia. Eudaimonia is a state of being in which you live harmoniously with the flow of life around you—not from selfless surrender, but self-mastery.”
I often wonder if Christians have been so excited about the permissiveness of grace, that we’ve forgotten we were first called “disciples.” Both disciple and discipline grow from the same trunk: “discipulus.”
I never made that connection in terms, but I love it. I think it's not just permissive grace, but perhaps also a sense of duty has been lost in our secular society. In the West, I find that people separate religious life from the mundane day to day. Without finding the sacredness within our participation with life, our spiritual obligations and inclinations are likely to fall by the wayside to accommodate modern ideas and priorities.