Having introduced this series, and then looked to Homer and Virgil in search of a positive account of masculinity, we now find ourselves in the most political portion of this seven-part education. If politics is the attempt to answer a question, it is trying to answer, “what is justice?” There is a corollary question, which we will look at next time, which is, “how does virtue relate to politics?” This corollary could also be asked like this, “does justice require a just man?”
Behind every policy, every slogan, and every call to action, there is some idea of justice in whose name these policies, slogans, and call to actions are enacted. Whether a country decides to restrict immigration or encourage immigration, and to whom and by how much, there is an implicit justice claim. Immigration policy might not always be framed in terms of “what is just”, as it might be framed in terms of economics (“There are not enough jobs for the current population, so why crowd the job market even more?”/ “An increase in population means an increase in labor, and that means an increase in production”), but even economic arguments speak the language of justice. Often economic arguments for an immigration policy rely upon the assumption that whatever benefits the country at large constitutes what is right, and the further assumption is that an overall increase in material well-being is the same thing as benefiting the country at large. Yet, the moral foundations of various policies are often never investigated, or taken as brute facts that “you either see it, or you don't.” This is no surprise given a 24/7 news cycle that, with the aid of modern psychology, has mastered the art of emotional manipulation, and an education system that teaches students what to think, but not how to think.
Historically, Western political thought started from an in-depth contemplation of the nature of justice, and only after that central question was ironed out, were any secondary and tertiary problems even considered. I know a number of folks loosely associated with Neo-Reaction read this blog, and I would ask them to think back to Dante’s De Monarchia. First, Dante establishes that the natural end for Man is peace, and from that one premise establishes the rest of his politics. What is just? What is right? For Man to be in a state of peace. Politics is the practical art of establishing justice, and since justice is peace among men, then politics is the practical art of establishing peace among men. This example should give even those who have not read Dante’s De Monarchia an idea of the classical structure.
We will not be looking at Dante in this post, but will start with Plato, move to Aristotle, and end with Saint Augustine. These three authors carry a predominance in liberal education, and a familiarity with them will make all other thinkers, no matter where they fall chronologically, understandable. Knowing Augustine will help you read Dante, Aristotle will help with Marx, and Plato, Fichte.
Plato, The Republic
We begin with the book on justice, and the book of philosophy. Since the Library of Alexandria burned to the ground, the only works of Plato we have are his dialogues. These were not meant to be read like a book, although that is what we do today, but were originally performed at The Academy. Students would both perform, and watch, an externalization of the philosophical process, allowing the spectating students to form a model for philosophic thought. Knowing this makes sense of why Socrates (who is often the main character) can come across as annoying and pedantic. Many of my classmates got quickly irritated with the Athenian because of his questioning process, and although people did get irritated with the historical Socrates (and killed him), it is good to keep in mind that the dialectic process (the process of question and answer, and the process of critical evaluation of argumentation) has likely been exaggerated since these dialogues are pedagogical (they are teaching tools in a classroom). The other thing to notice is, being based off plays (and these are a type of play), there is comedy in the dialogues. If you are not laughing when you are reading Plato, you are not getting it! When you read Plato, to repeat, you are reading what would have been performed on-stage, this performance is an externalization of the philosophical mind, and is thus exaggerated, and you are meant to laugh at parts.
As we started the series by confronting the idea that politics is pure power, and amoral, so Plato begins The Republic (his longest work), by having Socrates confront a man named Thrasymachus who claims “justice is nothing other than the advantage of the stronger.” A little bit later, Thrasymachus elaborates on this point, “And each makes laws to its own advantage. Democracy makes democratic laws, tyranny makes tyrannical laws, and so on with the others. And they declare what they have made—what is to their own advantage—to be just for their subjects, and they punish anyone who goes against this as lawless and unjust.”1 You can see the similarity between this line of argument, and the ideology of power discussed at the beginning of this series. In that initial post, we said that this idea is outside the bounds of Western thought. We might have been a little hasty, but it was necessary to ensure a certain amount of openness to liberal and classical ideas. Plato, through Socrates, is dialoging with a fellow Athenian. They disagree, but this is an internal disagreement in so far as it is two citizens of the same city arguing over a conception of justice, opposed to two citizens of different cities arguing, or potentially fighting a war against each other. Yet, it is from Plato’s refutation of Thrasymachus that the Western political tradition truly begins. What began as a conflict within the same tradition, after its resolution only the victor’s position, and Plato did win, even if only historically, became acceptable. A parallel might be drawn from biology, in which it used to be acceptable to believe that all organisms presently living have always existed as they do now, and have existed eternally (as the universe was believed to be eternal), but now that belief is outside the bounds of biology, and only the victor’s position, that organisms have an origin, as does the universe. What used to be an internal debate, has now become a tradition-defining belief.
However interesting the parallels are between science, tradition, and philosophy, we are losing sight of Plato. It takes nine books for Socrates to answer Thrasymachus, and the build-up is indirect. Central to Socrates’ argument, and the place to push if you think his case is lacking, is the “State-Soul Analogy.”
“…I told them what I had in mind: The investigation we’re undertaking is not an easy one but requires keen eyesight. Therefore, since we aren’t clever people. we should adopt the method of investigation that we’d use if, lacking keen eyesight, we were told to read small letters from a distance and then noticed that the same letters existed elsewhere in a larger size and on a larger surface. We’d consider it a godsend, I think, to be allowed to read the larger ones first and then to examine the smaller ones, to see whether they really are the same.
That’s certainly true, said Adeimantus, but how is this case similar to our investigation of justice?
I’ll tell you. We say, don’t we, that there is the justice of a single man and also the justice of a whole city?
Certainly.
And a city is larger than a single man?
It is larger.
Perhaps, then, there is more justice in the larger thing, and it will be easier to learn what it is. So, if you’re willing, let’s first find out what sort of thing justice is in a city and afterwards look for it in the individual, observing the ways in which the smaller is similar to the larger.”2
It is important to suspend disbelief in this premise to read The Republic, although this is not to say that there is nothing of value if the premise turns out to be false, but Plato is about to give a very detailed account of a very strange city, with metaphysics and noble lies thrown in, and to understand why he is doing all of this, you have to give the State-Soul Analogy some credence. I personally do not think that it is obvious that there is more justice in a big thing than a small thing, and I can think of many persons who have more justice in them than entire cities (I am thinking, here, of the saints), but Plato states this as obvious. Yet, despite being skeptical of this premise, I find his conclusion powerful, and other aspects of the work compelling.
Building the ideal city, Plato starts from human difference,
“…Even as you were speaking it occurred to me that, in the first place, we aren’t all born alike, but each of us differs somewhat in nature from the others, one being suited to one task, another to another. Or don’t you think so?
I do.
Second, does one person do a better job if he practices many crafts—or since he’s one person himself—if he practices one?
If he practices one.
It’s clear, at any rate, I think, that if one misses the right moment in anything, the work is spoiled.
It is.
That’s because the thing to be done won’ wait on the leisure of the doer, but the doer must of necessity pay close attention to his work rather than treating it as a secondary occupation.
Yes, he must.
The result, then, is that more plentiful and better-quality goods are more easily produced if each person does one thing for which he is naturally suited, does it at the right time, and is released from having to do any of the others.
Absolutely.”3
Thus, the division of labor, and a hint of what will become, being fleshed out by Christians, the ideal of vocation. We are all called (vocation coming from vox, or voice/call in Latin) to a certain task, either by nature, or by God, and the ideal for every man to find, and live out, his vocation. On this basis Plato divides citizens into three classes/castes: the Guardians, who rule the city, the Auxiliaries, who protect the city, and the Producers, who provide for the city. Each of these classes/castes represents a virtue, wisdom (Guardians), courage (Auxiliaries), and moderation (Producers). How a citizen finds himself in one of these classes gets a bit complicated, in no large part because Socrates’ interlocutors repeatedly press for details, and involves starting this ideal city, which comes to be called the Kalipolis (literally: good/beautiful city), with a number of very small children, teaching them a myth about metals, the near elimination of music (only allowing it for specific purposes, and eugenics. A lot of interesting ideas get brought up, especially offering a challenge to the orthodoxies of “free-speech absolutism” and the freedom to choose your job, but, it must be remembered, this is all a set up to discuss the soul. Before we look at the soul, and thus what justice is, I would be remiss to not briefly touch the most famous part of The Republic. We can only briefly look at this, as I could dedicate this whole blog just to the following section, and come nowhere near exhausting what could be said.
“Next, I said, compare the effects of education and the lack of it on our nature to an experience like this: Imagine human beings living in an underground, cavelike dwelling, with an entrance a long way up, which is both open to the light and as wide as the cave itself. They’ve been there since childhood, fixed in the same place, with their necks and legs fettered, able to see only in front of them, because their bonds prevent them from turning their heads around. Light is provided by a fire burning far above and stretching behind them. Also behind them, but on higher ground, there is a path stretching between them and the fire. Imagine that along the path a low wall has been built, like the screen in front of puppeteers above which they show their puppets.
I’m imagining it.
Then also imagine that there are people along the wall, carrying all kinds of artifacts that project above it—statues of people and other animals, made out of stone, wood, and every material. And, as you’d expect, some of the carriers are talking, and some are silent.
It’s a strange image you’re describing, and strange prisoners.
They’re like us. Do you suppose, first of all, that these prisoners see anything of themselves and one another besides the shadows that the fire casts on the wall in front of them?
How could they, if they have to keep their heads motionless throughout life?
What about the things being carried along the wall? Isn’t that true of them?
Of course.
And if they could talk to one another, don’t you think they’d suppose that the names they used applied to the things they see passing before them?
They’d have to.
And what if their prison also had an echo from the wall facing them? Don’t you think they’d believe that the shadows passing in front of them were talking whenever one of the carriers passing along the wall was doing so?
I certainly do.
Then the prisoners would in every way believe that the truth is nothing other than the shadows of those artifacts.
They must certainly believe that.
Consider, then, what being released from their bonds and cured of their ignorance would naturally be like, if something like this came to pass. When one of them was freed and suddenly compelled to stand up, turn his head, walk and look up toward the light, he’d be pained and dazzled and unable to see the things whose shadows he’d seen before. What do you think he’d say, if we told him that what he’d seen before was inconsequential, but that now—because he is a bit closer to the things that are and is turned towards things that are more—he sees more correctly? Or, to put it another way, if we pointed to each of the things passing by, asked him what each of them is, and compelled him to answer, don’t you think he’d be at a loss and that he’d believe that the things he saw earlier were truer than the ones he was now being shown?
Much truer.
And if someone compelled him to look at the light itself, wouldn’t his eyes hurt, and wouldn’t he turn around and flee towards the things he’s able to see, believing that they’re really clearer than the ones he’s being shown?
He would.
And if someone dragged him away by force, up the rough, steep path, and didn’t let him go until he had dragged him into the sunlight, wouldn’t he be pained and irritated at being treated this way? And when he came into the light, with the sun filling his eyes, wouldn’t he be unable to see a single one of the things now said to be true?
He would be unable to see them, at least at first.
I suppose, then, that he’d need time to get adjusted before he could see things in the world above. At first, he’d see shadows most easily, then images of men and other things in water, then the things themselves. Or these, he’d be able to study the things in the sky and the sky itself most easily at night, looking at the light of the stars and the moon, than during the day, looking at the sun and the light of the sun.
Of course.
Finally, I suppose, he’d be able to see the sun, not images of it in the water or some alien place, but the sung itself, in its own place, and be able to study it.
Necessarily so.
And at this point he would infer and conclude that the sun provides the seasons and the years, governs everything in the visible world, and is in some way the cause of all the things that he used to see.”4
Education, especially liberal education (Plato is her father), is the journey away from the fire and towards the sun. Without a mind well-formed, we would be subject to every passing fad, the latest propaganda technique, and take mere appearance as reality. There are many interpretations of the Allegory of the Cave, some Christian, others gnostic, and even some compatible with atheism. Lying behind every interpretation, is the conviction that there exists some reality which grounds the experiences of everyday life, that behind the many there is the one. Politics is short hand for a multitude of experiences, concerns, actions, interests, and relationships, but behind this many, there is one thing grounding it all: justice. Without the reality of its justice, without the words “right” and “wrong” being intelligible, politics cannot exist. Laws, wars, campaigns, lobbying, and elections assume that there is some standard of right and wrong, that we can know this standard, and that we either seek to preserve it, or, should it be absent, implement it. Following the news, reading theory, and being involved in an electoral campaign can be good things, but, as Plato’s argument goes, if education is absent, if the student has not learned to look away from shadows and gaze into the sun, he will a) have not knowledge of what is real (in the case of politics: justice), and b) be no more than a stick being caught in the endless river of the daily news cycle, with no solid foundation to ground himself.
What is more, is that liberal education is not forcing the student into the light, which will only cause pain and resentment. Rather, the teacher’s job is to gently lead the student into the light, and allowing him to slowly get adjusted to the world above.
Now we must look at Plato’s account of justice, which he has building up to for nine books. First, he divides the human soul into three parts: the reason, the spirit, and the appetite. Reason is the part of you that deliberates, the spirit is your chest, your heart, the part that drives you towards action (particularly acts of courage), and the appetite is the part of you from whence desire comes. Plato’s division is not a literal division, because the soul, being immaterial, cannot have parts in the same way a car does, but simply describes the faculties of the soul, and faculties, at that, which can be at odds with each other. My reason might oppose my appetite (despite wanting another drink, I know I have had too much), the appetite might oppose the reason (I don’t care I’ve had five glasses of scotch and that the sixth will lead me to do something I deeply regret…I WANT another glass), or the spirit the appetite (despite desiring safety, I risk that to distract a bear chasing my son). Plato describes these three parts as a human (reason), a lion (spirit), and a many headed beast (appetite), leading him to make the following argument:
“Then, if someone maintains that injustice profits this human being and that doing just things brings no advantage, let’s tell him that he is simply saying that it is beneficial for him, first, to feed the multiform beast well and make it strong, and also the lion and all that pertains to him; second, to starve and weaken the human being within, so that he is dragged along wherever either the other two leads; and, third, to leave the parts to bite and kill one another rather than accustoming them to each other and making them friendly.
Yes, that’s absolutely what someone who praises injustice is saying.
But, on the other hand, wouldn’t someone who maintains that just things are profitable be saying, first, that all our words and deeds should insure that the human being within this human being has the most control; second, that he should take care of the many-headed beast as a farmer does his animals, feeding and domesticating the gentle heads and preventing the savage ones from growing; and, third, that he should make the lion’s nature his ally, care for the community of all his parts, and bring them up in such a way that they will be friends with each other and with himself?
Yes, that’s exactly what someone who praises justice is saying.”5
Justice, then, is when the reason uses the spirit to control the appetite, and injustice is when the appetite uses the spirit to control the reason. Justice, on the micro-scale, is summoning your spirit to push aside your anger towards someone, and, instead of dealing with them harshly out of spite, treating them fairly. Surpassing self-interest and governing a city according to reason, is justice on the macro-scale. Earlier, Plato remarked that “…more plentiful and better-quality goods are more easily produced if each person does one thing for which he is naturally suited, does it at the right time, and is released from having to do any of the others.” This was in the context of the division of labor, but Plato appears to take this as a universal principle. Justice, to reword, is when everything fulfills its function, and only its function, whether these be the parts of the soul, or the classes of the city.
Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics
Unlike Plato, we do not have any surviving dialogues of Aristotle (we know they did exist), but what we do have are his lecture notes. Because of this, Aristotle is often seen as more direct and more practical, but this may be a feature of us having his lecture notes. If we had either Plato’s lectures or Aristotle’s dialogues, we might think differently. Before we look at the text, it should be noted that Aristotle was a student of Plato, makes an appearance in Plato dialogue Parmenides, and sought to refine, rather than oppose, the teachings of his master.
Before looking at what Aristotle says about justice, we need to figure out what he means by “virtue” and “vice.” In their book, Intellectual Virtues, Roberts and Wood give an excellent definition of Aristotelean virtue,
“The classical idea is that, like other biological species, the human species has a set of potentials and developmental parameters that must be respected if the individual is to become an excellent specimen of its kind. If the DNA of any species is or contains a set of instructions for what the mature individual is supposed to be like (no guarantee that it will be like this, since many influences from the environment have their effects on development; the environment can fail to cooperate with the instructions, so to speak), then human nature is a sort of psychological DNA, a DNA of the personal life (no doubt conditioned by the physical DNA). The instructions are an internal disposition or tendency of an organism, tuned to the kind of environment in which the organism will live out its life. As psychological, the instructions have to be honored in a process of education…if the education is right, the human nature will be realized, within the limits particular to the individual; if it is poor, the development and outcome will be poor too, no matter how excellent the instructions in the nature of the person.”6
When a human is acting how a human ought to act, and when these actions are the result of habituation (making these actions a habit), we are seeing virtue in action. The phrase “how a human ought to act” cannot, for Aristotle, be separated into the is/ought distinction, but is a statement as matter of fact as “a pencil, if it is a good pencil, writes well.” As a sharp pencil is good, and a broken pencil is bad, a courageous and temperate person is a good person, and a cowardly and gluttonous person is bad. We can know how things ought to be, and, for Aristotle, it is pretty obvious. No one would maintain that a good person is cowardly, rash, gluttonous, or selfish, but everyone would praise the courageous, temperate, and selfless person.
To expand, virtue is found in the Golden Mean between vice,
“First, then, let us consider this, that it is the nature of such things to be destroyed by defect and excess, as we see in the case of strength and health (for to gain light on things imperceptible we must use the evidence of sensible things); both excessive and defective exercise destroys the strength, and similarly drink and good which is above or below a certain amount destroys the health, while that which is proportionate both produces and increases and preserves it. So too is it, then, in the case of temperance and courage and the other virtues. For the man who flies from and fears everything and does not stand his ground against anything becomes a coward, and the man who fears nothing at all but goes to meet every danger becomes rash; and similarly, the man who indulges in every pleasure and abstains from none becomes self-indulgent, while the man who shuns every pleasure, as boors do, becomes in a way insensible; temperance and courage, then, are destroyed by excess and defect, and preserved by mean.”7
Between excess and defect there is the mean, which is virtue, and when a human is properly being a human, he is exercising virtue. We are not born virtuous, but have to be educated in virtue. Notice how Aristotle says, “the man who flies from and fears everything and does not stand his ground against anything becomes a coward.” Through our actions, we become our actions. Habitual acts of cowardice will make us into a coward. Habitual acts of courage, however, will make us into a man of courage. Those attracted to Aristotle’s account of virtue are often attracted to the power of habituation, because it means that, with enough effort, anyone can change for the better. When Christianity comes onto the scene, there will be pushback against the limits of habituation due to the doctrine of Original Sin, with some tempering their acceptance of Aristotle, and others rejecting him in whole.
“With regard to justice and injustice we must consider (1) what kind of actions they are concerned with, (2) what sort of mean justice is, and (3) between what extremes the just act is intermediate. Our investigation shall follow the same course as the preceding discussions.
We see that all men mean by justice that kind of state of character which makes people disposed to do what is just and makes them act justly and wish for what is just; and similarly by injustice that state which makes them act unjustly and wish for what is unjust. Let us too, then, lay this down as a general basis. For the same is not true of the sciences and the faculties as of states of character. A faculty or a science which is one and the same is held to relate to contrary objects, but a state of character which is one of two contraries does not produce the contrary results; e. g. as a result of health we do not do what is the opposite of healthy, but only what is healthy; for we say a man walks healthily, when he walks as a healthy man would.
Now often one contrary state is recognized from its contrary, and often states are recognized from the subjects that exhibit them; for (A) if good condition is known, bad condition also becomes known, and (B) good condition is known from the things that are in good condition, and they from it. If good condition is firmness of flesh, it is necessary both that bad condition should be flabbiness of flesh and that the wholesome should be that which causes firmness in flesh. And it follows for the most part that if one contrary is ambiguous the other also will be ambiguous; e. g. if ‘just’ is so, that ‘unjust’ will be so too.
Now ‘justice’ and ‘injustice’ seem to be ambiguous, but because their different meanings approach near to one another the ambiguity escapes notice and is not obvious as it is, comparatively, when the meanings are far apart, e. g. (for here the difference in outward form is great) as the ambiguity in the use of kleis for the collar-bone of an animal and for that with which we lock a door. Let us take as a starting-point, then, the various meanings of ‘an unjust man’. Both the lawless man and the grasping and unfair man are thought to be unjust, so that evidently both the law-abiding and the fair man will be just. The just, then, is the lawful and the fair, the unjust the unlawful and the unfair.
Since the unjust man is grasping, he must be concerned with goods—not all goods, but those with which prosperity and adversity have to do, which taken absolutely are always good, but for a particular person are not always good. Now men pray for and pursue these things; but they should not, but should pray that the things that are good absolutely may also be good for them, and should choose the things that are good for them. The unjust man does not always choose the greater, but also the less—in the case of things bad absolutely; but because the lesser evil is itself thought to be in a sense good, and graspingness is directed at the good, therefore he is thought to be grasping. And he is unfair; for this contains and is common to both.
Since the lawless man was seen to be unjust and the law-abiding man just, evidently all lawful acts are in a sense just acts; for the acts laid down by the legislative art are lawful, and each of these, we say, is just. Now the laws in their enactments on all subjects aim at the common advantage either of all or of the best or of those who hold power, or something of the sort; so that in one sense we call those acts just that tend to produce and preserve happiness and its components for the political society. And the law bids us do both the acts of a brave man (e. g. not to desert our post nor take to flight nor throw away our arms), and those of a temperate man (e. g. not to commit adultery nor to gratify one’s lust), and those of a good-tempered man (e. g. not to strike another nor to speak evil), and similarly with regard to the other virtues and forms of wickedness, commanding some acts and forbidding others; and the rightly-framed law does this rightly, and the hastily conceived one less well.
This form of justice, then, is complete virtue, but not absolutely, but in relation to our neighbor. And therefore justice is often thought to be the greatest of virtues, and ‘neither evening nor morning star’ is so wonderful; and proverbially ‘in justice is every virtue comprehended’. And it is complete virtue in its fullest sense, because it is the actual exercise of complete virtue. It is complete because he who possesses it can exercise his virtue not only in himself but towards his neighbor also; for many men can exercise virtue in their own affairs, but not in their relations to their neighbor. This is why the saying of Bias is thought to be true, that ‘rule will show the man’; for a ruler is necessarily in relation to other men and a member of a society. For this same reason justice, alone of the virtues, is thought to be ‘another’s good’, because it is related to our neighbor; for it does what is advantageous to another, either a ruler or a copartner. Now the worst man is he who exercises his wickedness both towards himself and towards his friends, and the best man is not he who exercises his virtue towards himself but he who exercises it towards another; for this is a difficult task. Justice in this sense, then, is not part of virtue but virtue entire, nor is the contrary injustice a part of vice but vice entire.”8
Whereas Plato’s definition of justice was singularly concerned with proper function, Aristotle defines justice as entire virtue in regard to one’s neighbor, which makes it a complicated affair. For me to be just to you, I have to exercise, not just liberality, not just moderation, not just magnanimity, but all the virtues well, and with specific regard to you as a particular person in a particular situation. Liberality, the virtue of sharing excess (charity would fall under the label of liberality, but also being a good host to company), will look different for a man who has much than for a man who has little, and it will look different depending whom he is being liberal too. On the one hand, this might seem like a higher standard than Plato’s, but it also might be seen as an easier demand because it is possible to list all the virtues and ask yourself “am I exercising this virtue”, and “check the boxes” as it were.
Augustine, City of God
We now come to Saint Augustine, a philosopher of equal stature, and influence, as both plato and Aristotle. There might not be a figure who has as much influence on the shape of Western Civilization that rivals Augustine. “Just War”, a developed doctrine of “the inner-self”, the cogito attributed to Descartes (who merely repeated what Augustine said earlier), the very idea of an autobiography, and most modern notions of what constitutes a commonwealth all derive from the bishop of Hippo. For our purposes we will look at Augustine’s City of God, a lengthy treatise on theology, philosophy, and political science that was written following the fall of Rome. At the time, the Church was blamed for Rome’s fall, with the existent pagans (who were quickly dwindling due to conversion) arguing that by turning their backs on the ancestral gods, the Roman Christians were the cause of the city’s sack. The most educated man in the West penned a defense of Christianity, a refutation of contemporary pagan arguments, and provided a political blueprint that would sustain Western Christendom up until the Protestant Reformation. Like The Republic, The City of God is a work foundational to Western Civilization, and is deserving of multiple deep reads.
Let us look at one paragraph, and analyze what the Church father is telling us,
“The peace of the body, we conclude, is a tempering of the component parts in duly ordered proportion; the peace of the irrational soul is a duly ordered repose of the appetites; the peace of the rational soul is the duly ordered agreement of cognition and action. The peace of body and soul is the duly ordered life and health of a living creature; peace between mortal man and God is ordered obedience, in faith, in subjection to an everlasting law; peace between men is an ordered agreement among those who live together about giving and obeying orders; the peace of the Heavenly City is a perfectly ordered and perfectly harmonious fellowship in the enjoyment of God, and a mutual fellowship in God; the peace of the whole universe is the tranquillity of order—and order is the arrangement of things equal and unequal in a pattern which assigns to each its proper function.”9
Two words come up every sentence, “peace” and “order.” Justice is peace, and peace comes from order. What is ordered? 1.) The parts of the body, 2.) the appetites, 3.) cognition and action, 4.) life and health, 5.) obedience, 6.) human agreement, 7.) fellowship among men and God, 8.) the universe. Calling Augustine the doctor of order would not be inaccurate, with much of the Saint’s thought revolving around some variation of his concept of “ordered loves.”
For Augustine, the world is innately hierarchical. A dog is better than a tree, because although they both have life, a dog has locomotion, and locomotion is a good thing as it allows for social relations, play, and the exercise of virtue. A human is better than a dog, because although they both have life and locomotion, humans have the power of speech, and this allows for more intimate social relations, teaching, and the ability, when looking at creation, to say with God “it is good.” As there are some things better than others, we ought to treat some things better than others. It would be wrong to treat a dog better than a person, to save the dog who is drowning with his master instead of the master, because a person is better than a dog. This is not to say a dog is bad, but that humans, by their nature, demand a higher level of respect. Money, like a dog, is not as valuable as humans, as it is made by humans and that which is made cannot be worth more than he who makes it, and to value money more than people is, like treating a dog better than a human, to sin. What emerges from this consideration is a hierarchy of honor, with us giving the highest honor to God.
Fleshing this out further, it should be said that there are goods which are ends in themselves, which are means to ends, and which are both means and ends. There is only one end in itself for Augustine, and this is God. God is not something to be used for something else, as He is the goal of all things. Our fellow man is not God, which means he cannot be an end in himself, but he is also not a means, which would reduce him to a mere tool. In one sense our fellow man is an end, as we do things for him and out of love for him (making him the goal of certain actions), but at the same time our fellow man is a means for us to practice the virtues, because I cannot be just unless there is someone to be just to, and I cannot be loving unless there is someone to be loving to. Finally, there are mere means, such as money, tools, cars, and the like, which are all good things, but they are good because they allow us to reach some end (providing for our family, fixing a leaky roof, or driving to work). Means serve ends, and things that are both means and ends serve the only true end, who is God.
Now looking back at our paragraph, how ought the parts of the body be ordered? Augustine says they must be “tempered…in…proportion.” Our strength, speech, libido, and other component parts all have functions, and when they serve those functions they are good and blessed. Our libido, our natural sexual attraction to the opposite sex, has the function of bearing children and a unitive function between husband and wife. When used for those purposes, our sex drive is a good and blessed thing, but when it strays from that purpose, whether it be masturbation, pornography, or extramarital sex, then it is no longer ordered according to its proper function, or end. Thus, our libido must be tempered and directed towards its ordered ends.
Our appetites too must be ordered, and there is some cross over between this and the former, as most of our appetites are physical in nature. Alcohol, drunk for celebration, fellowship, and to “make glad the hearts of men”10, is using grain and grape for its proper end, but when alchohol begins to be used for other ends, such as trying to forget a bad day, or making an additional sin easier to commit, or when it becomes an end in itself, and we use friends to get alchohol ("I don't like the guy, and would rather not spend time with him, but he said he would buy this time"), then our appetite for drink is disordered. A non-physical appetite might be the appetite for recognition. There is nothing wrong in wanted to be recognized as valuable, smart, strong, or a good person, humans crave affirmation, but when it becomes an end, or is sought at the expense of something higher (virtue, persons, our duties, etc), then it becomes a problem.
At this point, let us focus in on what ordered social relationships look like. Christians are called to love everyone, but to confuse this calling with an equality of love will lead to some absurd conclusions. If there are no distinctions between persons, then if I gave all my wealth to a homeless man I met on the street, when I have a wife and three children at home would make me a bad husband and father. Further, the respect given to a priest is different than the respect given to a bishop, and the respect given to a teacher is different than that given to a friend. Behind these distinctions are the means/ends distinction, as well as a hierarchy of ends to which the means correspond. A bishop’s function, within the Orthodox Church (I can only speak from my tradition) is establishing the catholicity of the eucharist, and the function of a priest is to administer the eucharist (among other things). This puts a bishop over a priest, as one is a means to establishing the sacrament (where we “taste and see that the Lord is good”11), and one is a means to providing the sacrament. A teacher, to use a different role, is a means to a well formed mind and, depending on the context, a well formed soul. A friend is a means for companionship, and possibly virtue. Accordingly, a child ought to obey his teacher, but obeying a friend would morph the relationship into something besides friendship.
Well ordered social relations, justice in society, then, is when hierarchy is recognized, and when all members of society treat each other with the proper respect according to their station in that hierarchy.
Justice
We looked at Plato, Aristotle, and Saint Augustine’s answer to the question “what is justice?”, providing a range of prospectives, pagan and Christian, general and technical. These three are not incompatible, and can, and have, been combined into a single account of justice, but they can also be taken in isolation. To repeat what will become a constant refrain in this series, what you have just read is not “the Western account of justice”, but a sketch of the dialogue in the West about justice. At this point the email limit is almost reached, so we have to stop here, but we will look at these three giants again. These three, Plato, Aristotle, and Augustine, are giants in the West, and a solid grasp on just these three thinkers will provide the context for everything written afterwards, for everything written afterwards is a response to these three.
Plato. Complete Works. Edited by John M. Cooper. Hackett Publishing Company. Indianapolis, Indiana. 1997. 338e
Plato. Complete Works. Edited by John M. Cooper. Hackett Publishing Company. Indianapolis, Indiana. 1997. 368d-369a
Plato. Complete Works. 370b-370c
Plato. 514-516d
Plato. 588e-589b
Roberts, C. Roberts, Wood, Jay. Intellectual Virtues: An Essay in Regulative Epistemology. Clarendon Press, Oxford. 2009. 65.
Aristotle. The Basic Works of Aristotle. Edited by Richard McKeon. Random House Publishing. New York, New York. 2001. 1104a 10-27
Aristotle. The Basic Works of Aristotle. Edited by Richard McKeon. Random House Publishing. New York, New York. 2001. 1129a-1130a14
Saint Augustine. City of God. Penguin Books. New York, New York. 2003. 870, Book XIX, Chapter 13
Psalm 104:15
Psalm 34:8