“Against that sweetness I fight lest I become a captive”

– St. Augustine

---

In Book VII of the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle develops his conception of “self-restraint” as well as its negative counterpart “lack of self-restraint”. Of particular interest to Aristotle is finding out where to classify these concepts along the spectrum of what is to be avoided in one’s character. A thorough analysis would be beyond the constraints of this paper and my abilities. I do, however, want to analyze one specific sub-distinction of “lack of self-restraint” which Aristotle develops ‒ and which, due to a key ethical difference between its two characteristics, demands that we blame one more than the other.  

This key difference ‒ which I will explain in the following section ‒ accords well with my personal philosophical beliefs on the subject; and I also think the image Aristotle presents of the “Spirited Man” is fascinating and immediately familiar to all. 

Self-Restraint

According to Aristotle, “lack of self-restraint” is one of three undesirable things pertaining to one’s character, along with vice and brutishness (135). So, while self-restraint itself is not a vice, it is blameworthy. But what is a “lack of self-restraint”?

To Aristotle, “lack of self-restraint” is due to the characteristics of softness and delicacy in a person (136). This characterization may not appear immediately intuitive, but consider the impulse you followed the last time you snoozed your alarm ‒ the warm, cozy blankets; the soft sounds of birds chirping; the uninviting thought of all the obligations that await you outside of your bed. You know you ought to get up and get cracking, but a certain softness of character, a certain delicacy, leads you astray. The same story can be told about eating too many donuts or watching too much TV ‒ you are falling victim to the sweet and easy siren song of pleasure. The self-restrained man, however, is hard and steadfast in the face of such temptations. 

But, even given this distinction between SR and LSR, Aristotle identifies a sub-distinction of LSR, which separates this definition of self-restraint into two sorts: the original and something called spiritedness.

Spiritedness

Some people lack self-restraint because they are impetuous in acting in the manner that they believe is right. Aristotle says that someone who lacks self-restraint in this way “seems to hear reason in some way, but to mishear it”. He compares this person to “swift servants who run off before they hear what is said in its entirety and then err in carrying out the command”(147). The servant is doing what he believes he ought to be doing ‒ carrying out his command ‒ and he is doing so with vim and vigor. The problem, however, is that his spirited enthusiasm and impulsivity has led him into error. Spirited men deserve blame for their character flaw; but since it is a flaw which arises out of a commitment to right reason ‒ i.e. they prematurely leap at a decision they believe is correct ‒  it merits less blame than the other sort of lack of self-restraint ‒ the original one identified at the outset. I’ll say more about that type next.

Desire-based Lack of Self-Restraint

These other people, however, lack self-restraint in a different way. These people do what they know they ought not to do, and do so in the name of desire. This brings us back to the earlier definition of LSR; these people see Reason and they cast it aside in the name of what is pleasant. 

The Difference: 

Between the actions of these two distinct Aristotelian archetypes, a key ethical difference should cause one to view them very differently: the difference in their treatment of moral principles.

By moral principles, I refer to those broader statements of moral truths that propose to transcend the specifics of a situation. Aristotle mentions Reason, and it is this reason that undergirds the principles of morality that we appeal to when considering a course of action. When asking if we ought to get out of bed and go to work, we may consider the idea that it is good to provide for one’s family. In a particular instance, it may be wrong or right to steal a car, but the principle that stealing, in general, is wrong may be true independent of the specifics of the situation. These principles rest upon what we believe is reasonable, and I believe the two archetypes presented by Aristotle relate to such principles very differently. 

In both the case of the desire-driven man and the spirited man, the men act incorrectly in the specific instances described, but the character of the desire-driven man interacts with the principles of morality in a much more blameworthy way than the spirited man, whose impulsivity is borne out of a fervency toward the principle at hand rather than a disregard for it. 

Unlike the spirited man, the desire-driven man does violence to the moral principles that he sees and understands. The desire-driven man devalues Reason by his weakness and so corrupts the principles of morality. It is his lack of respect for such principles that concerns me, and it is his weakness of will that I think is so dangerous.

Such principles, even when possibly bend-able to the specifics of the situation, are the building blocks of our moral systems, and their preservation should be of the utmost concern for the moral philosopher and for all people. Moral principles are guiding lights, which give us direction and stability even when the specifics of a situation are unknown or unknowable. Without deep respect for the principles of morality, we risk losing our grounding in a crude subjectivism and stepping away from the path that has led us so far as human beings, but on which we have so many steps yet to take.

In sum, I found these two portrayals of lack of self-restraint to be so incisive and interesting ‒ which is not surprising considering the source. But also, I felt that a brief reflection on the differences between the two might bring about some heightened clarity as to another reason why the lack of self-restraint shown by the desire-driven man might be more concerning than that shown by the spirited man; namely, due to the differing relationship that each of these men has with the principles. One man errs out of a commitment to the institution of morality; the other errs by rejecting it in the name of momentary desires. I believe we ought to prefer our spirited man because we ought to err on the side of the principles, on the side of reason.

I suppose this reflection makes me more sympathetic towards those impetuous souls who behave like the Spirited Man. Furthermore, I think it suggests that we ought to think long and hard before we buckle on our next resolution in the name of a fleeting desire. Such softness of spirit may be more dangerous than it looks.