Freedom and Flourishing: inner freedom

Showing posts with label inner freedom. Show all posts

Thursday, June 4, 2026

Are Spinoza’s Philosophy and Neo-Aristotelian Philosophies of Freedom and Flourishing Compatible?

This is a guest essay by Dr Edward W. Younkins, Professor of Accountancy and Business at Wheeling University, and Executive Director of its Institute for the Study of Capitalism and Morality. Ed is author of a trilogy of important books on freedom and flourishing: “Capitalism and Commerce”, “Champions of a Free Society”, and “Flourishing and Happiness in a Free Society”. He also has numerous other publications, including several published on this site. (Please see the list after the end of this essay.)

The philosophical systems of Baruch (Benedict de) Spinoza and contemporary neo-Aristotelian thinkers such as Ayn Rand, Douglas B. Rasmussen, and Douglas J. Den Uyl represent distinct yet somewhat convergent approaches to understanding reality, human nature, and the conditions for human flourishing. Spinoza’s rationalist monism and determinism appear, at first glance, to be at odds with the teleological realism, moral objectivism, and emphasis on individual agency characteristic of Objectivism and Individualistic Perfectionism. However, upon closer examination, these traditions exhibit areas of comparability, partial compatibility, and parallel insights across metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, and political philosophy.

This essay explores both the divergences and convergences between these traditions, arguing that while they differ in foundational metaphysical commitments—particularly regarding determinism, free will, and the nature of God—they share a deep commitment to reason, self-mastery, and the pursuit of human flourishing within a naturalistic framework.

Metaphysics

Spinoza’s metaphysics is grounded in substance monism: there exists only one infinite substance, which he identifies as God or Nature (Deus sive Natura). Everything that exists is a mode or expression of this single substance, and all events follow necessarily from its nature. Reality is fully determined and governed by immutable laws. Contingency is merely epistemic, not ontological.

By contrast, Rand and neo-Aristotelians affirm a pluralistic, realist metaphysics. Rand’s axiom, “existence exists’, asserts that reality is objective, composed of distinct entities governed by the laws of identity and causality. Rasmussen and Den Uyl, drawing on Aristotle, emphasize that beings have natures, potentials, and ends. Human beings, as rational animals, possess capacities that can be actualized through virtuous activity.

Despite these differences, an important parallel emerges: they all do not depend upon supernaturalism in the traditional sense. Spinoza’s God is not a transcendent creator but identical with nature, Rand explicitly rejects any form of supernaturalism, and Rasmussen and Den Uyl adopt a naturalistic Aristotelian framework. Their Individualistic Perfectionism is not incompatible with, or does not rule out, theism, but their arguments do not depend upon a theistic foundation. Though compatible with theism, natural moral law does not depend on theology for its account of ethics. Thus, all three perspectives share a commitment to the intelligibility, order, and law-governed structure of reality. Each involves a solid metaphysical realism.

However, a key contrast remains. Spinoza’s universe is necessitarian, whereas neo-Aristotelians affirm teleological openness—a world in which potentials may or may not be realized depending on human action.

The Nature of the Universe

Rand famously defends the idea that the universe is fundamentally benevolent—not in the sense that it guarantees success, but in that it is open to human achievement and does not thwart rational effort. The world is knowable, and success is possible through rational action.

Spinoza, by contrast, rejects anthropocentric evaluations of the universe. Nature is neither benevolent nor malevolent; it simply is. Events unfold according to necessity, without regard to human purposes. The perception of good and evil arises from human perspectives, not from nature itself.

Rasmussen and Den Uyl adopt a position closer to Rand’s, though more nuanced. The world contains both opportunities for, and obstacles to, flourishing, but human beings can achieve flourishing through rational self-direction within appropriate social conditions.

Thus, while Spinoza offers a vision of cosmic neutrality, Rand and neo-Aristotelians emphasize a conditionally benevolent universe—one that rewards rational engagement, though not automatically.

Epistemology

Spinoza is a paradigmatic rationalist. He distinguishes three kinds of knowledge: imagination (inadequate ideas), reason (adequate ideas), and intuitive knowledge (the highest form). True knowledge involves grasping the necessary relations among things.

Rand, by contrast, defends a form of conceptual empiricism. Knowledge begins with perception and is organized through abstraction and logic. Reason is volitional and requires active engagement.

Rasmussen and Den Uyl emphasize practical reason, which guides action rather than merely contemplating necessity. Human beings must deliberate about how to live, integrating diverse goods into a coherent life. Despite methodological differences, all share: (1) confidence in reason’s ability to know reality; (2) rejection of skepticism and relativism; and (3) emphasis on knowledge as essential to flourishing. In addition, Spinoza’s “adequate ideas” parallel the neo-Aristotelian emphasis on rational judgment, though the latter is more action-oriented and less geometrically deductive.

Free Will, Determinism, and Human Action

Spinoza is a strict determinist. Human beings believe themselves free because they are ignorant of the causes determining their actions. True freedom consists not in indeterminacy but in understanding necessity and acting from reason rather than passive emotions. True freedom is recognition that all things are necessary parts of God/nature, in understanding necessity, and acting from reason rather than passive emotions. Spinoza defines freedom not as free will but as understanding the necessity of nature allowing individuals to act according to reason rather than passions. Spinoza’s truncated version of “free will” (what he calls freedom) appears to hold that a human being can decide not to be controlled by his passions.

Rand and other neo-Aristotelians, however, affirm genuine agency. Rand holds that the choice to think or not to think is fundamental and irreducible. Rasmussen and Den Uyl argue that moral responsibility requires self-direction and the capacity to choose among alternatives.

This difference is significant and limits full compatibility. However, a parallel remains: both traditions value rational self-governance. For Spinoza, the “free man” is guided by reason. For neo-Aristotelians, the virtuous person exercises rational choice. Thus, while Spinoza redefines freedom as understanding necessity, neo-Aristotelians retain a more robust notion of freedom as volitional self-direction.

Passions, Emotions, and Virtue

Spinoza offers a sophisticated theory of the emotions, distinguishing between passions (passive states caused by external factors) and actions (active states arising from adequate ideas). The goal of ethics is to transform passive emotions into active ones through understanding.

Rand similarly argues that emotions are consequences of value judgments and must be guided by reason. Unchecked emotions can lead to irrationality and self-destruction.

Rasmussen and Den Uyl, following Aristotle, emphasize that virtues involve the proper integration of reason and emotion. Moral development requires habituation, reflection, and judgment.

All three perspectives converge on: (1) the need to regulate emotions through reason; (2) the idea that self-mastery is essential to flourishing; and (3) the rejection of emotionalism as a guide to life. In addition, Spinoza’s concept of increasing one’s “power of acting” parallels the Aristotelian idea of realizing one’s potentials through virtue.

Ethics, Flourishing, and Happiness

Spinoza’s ethics is deeply eudaimonistic. The highest good is the intellectual love of God, a rational understanding of the unity and necessity of nature. Happiness consists in this understanding and the peace it brings. True flourishing (conatus) arises from rational understanding which leads to virtues, joy, and a sense of unity with God/nature. Acting according to the dictates of reason aligns oneself with God/nature.

Rand defines happiness as the state resulting from achieving one’s rational values. Flourishing requires productive work, rationality, and integrity.

Rasmussen and Den Uyl articulate individualistic perfectionism, in which flourishing is objective but agent-relative. Each person must achieve excellence in a way appropriate to his or her circumstances.

All of the above reject hedonism, see flourishing as an activity guided by reason, and link happiness to the successful exercise of human capacities. They differ in that Spinoza emphasizes contemplation and understanding, Rand emphasizes production and achievement, and Rasmussen and Den Uyl emphasize plural, individualized excellence.

Politics, Rights, and the Nature of the State

Spinoza’s non-normative and power-centric political philosophy emphasizes stability, peace, and freedom of thought. He supports democratic governance and argues that individuals retain the right to think freely even under political authority. However, Spinoza does not ground rights in moral principles. Instead, rights are coextensive with power. One has a right to do whatever one has the power to do. His naturalistic ontology of rights holds that rights are expressions of actual capacities. Might makes right as a descriptive (not moral) claim.

Political life emerges from interacting self-interested agents seeking survival and flourishing. Political society emerges as a natural development. Spinoza views political society as a dynamic process of interactions. The state is an organic outgrowth of human interactions.

In contrast, Rand and Rasmussen/Den Uyl defend natural rights grounded in human nature. For Rand rights protect individual freedom of action. For Rasmussen and Den Uyl, rights are metanormative principles that secure the conditions for self-direction without prescribing specific ways of life. Their concept of metanormativity is crucial. Political institutions should not enforce virtue but should create a framework within which individuals can pursue flourishing. All support freedom of thought and limited government, Spinoza lacks a robust natural rights theory, and the neo-Aristotelians provide a stronger moral justification for liberal institutions.

God, Nature, and Ultimate Reality

Spinoza’s God is identical with nature—an impersonal, infinite substance. Understanding God is equivalent to understanding reality. Rand rejects God entirely, advocating a fully secular worldview. Rasmussen and Den Uyl also do not rely on theological foundations. Despite differences, all share a naturalistic orientation and do not rely on traditional theism. Spinoza’s God functions more as a metaphysical principle than as a personal being. Despite deep metaphysical differences, several powerful parallels emerge; (1) Primacy of Reason: All view reason as essential to human life; (2) Self-Mastery: Flourishing requires control over passions; (3) Naturalism: Reality is intelligible and law-governed; (4) Freedom of Thought: Intellectual liberty is essential; and (5) Eudaimonism: Happiness is achieved through rational activity.

Still, important differences remain: Determinism vs free will; Monism vs pluralism; and Power-based vs rights-based political theory. These differences limit full philosophical integration but allow for meaningful dialogue and mutual enrichment.

Conclusion

The philosophies of Spinoza and contemporary neo-Aristotelians offer complementary insights into the nature of reality, human agency, and flourishing. Spinoza provides a vision of rational harmony within a deterministic universe, emphasizing understanding and intellectual love. Rasmussen and Den Uyl’s idea that individual rights serve as metanorms echoes the Spinozist importance of self-directed rational activity. Rand and Rasmussen/Den Uyl offer a vision of rational self-direction within a free society, emphasizing choice, virtue, and individual flourishing.

While their metaphysical foundations differ significantly, their shared commitment to reason, self-mastery, and human flourishing reveals a philosophical kinship. Together, they illuminate different dimensions of the human condition: our embeddedness in a lawful universe and our capacity for rational self-direction.

Friday, March 27, 2026

Who are you?

The following essay is an edited transcript of a podcast episode I released a few years ago. I have decided to publish the transcript in essay form because I want to refer to it in a subsequent essay. It is easier to find particular words and paragraphs in an essay than in a podcast. Besides, when I listened to that podcast episode again, I decided that the sound of my voice distracted from the ideas I was presenting.

My main qualification for talking about personal identity is that I have been around for long enough to have thought quite a lot about my own identity. I hope that what I have to say will interest other people. In any case, writing this podcast script should also help me to remember what I have learned about myself.

Rather than meander through the circuitous history of my thinking, I will focus here on what I now consider to be a sensible approach to the topic. I will begin by discussing the most superficial aspects of personal identity and will end up considering whether your identity would be retained if your consciousness was uploaded into a machine. Along the way, I will touch upon a range of other issues that might be of interest:

· Is your identity defined by personal information about you?

· Does your life-story define who you are?

· How can aspects of your identity change over time?

· Is the essence of your identity located in your conscious mind?

· Where did Descartes go wrong in asserting “I think, therefore I am”?

· What kind of being are you?

· How does self-direction fit in to your identity?

Let us begin.

Is your identity defined by personal information about you?

Your passport has information about your name, nationality, date of birth and sex. It also shows a photo that looks something like you. Other government documents may include additional information such as your place of residence.

If you wanted to tell me who you are, you might provide further information such as your occupation, marital status, whether you have had children and how many, ethnicity, religion, political views, education level, schools attended, employment history, the places you have lived in the past, your hobbies, books you have read, sports you have played or enjoy watching, movies you liked, and other entertainment preferences.

A person with all that information would know a lot about you. They might be well placed to predict how a person like you might spend money or vote, but they would have only a superficial view of who you are as an individual.

Does your life-story define who you are?

Your own understanding of who you are probably includes a narrative covering important events in your life, a view about important things you have learned from life, your personal values, and how you came to hold those values.

So, if you were to write an autobiography covering all those aspects, would that encapsulate a comprehensive understanding of your identity? I doubt it. If you are anything like me, a few days after you finished writing the book you would think of something important that you wanted to add.

What I am suggesting is that even though we know more about ourselves than anyone else can possibly know about us, our self-knowledge is never perfect. As you go through life, you may discover more about who you are, and some aspects of your identity may change.

How can aspects of your identity change over time?

Let us assume for the moment that the concept of identity implies the existence of an unchangeable essence at the core of who you are. I will consider the validity of that assumption later, but I first want to discuss how some aspects of your identity can change.

It is obvious that there are various ways in which the information in your passport and other identity documents can be changed. I will focus on how more fundamental aspects of identity, such as character traits, may change over time.

It may be possible for your character to change as a consequence of changes in the social and economic environment in which you live. People do tend to respond to incentives. For example, if the social and economic environment rewards cooperation for mutual benefit, that provides an incentive for people to develop habits of trustworthy behavior that will enable them to participate more fully in those benefits. The opposite happens if the social and economic environment rewards predatory activity.

However, that does not mean that your identity is “socially constructed”. The social and economic environment affects the incentives you face, but you can still choose how to respond to those incentives. People often think carefully before responding to incentives. And they sometimes choose to respond differently than they have in the past. The behavioralist assumption that people respond automatically to stimuli is a distorted view of human nature.

Individuals can also choose to change their behavior in ways that change their identity. You may discover that you have an aptitude to do something – for example, to assist other people to learn – and some aspects of your identity may change as you acquire skill in doing that.

It is even possible for people to discover that they have potential to change their personality to some extent. Traits such as extroversion, conscientiousness, agreeableness, and emotional stability tend to be fairly stable in adults, but some research suggests that people can even change such traits if they make active efforts to do so. We discover our potential as we actualize it. There is some discussion of that process in Chapter 8 of my book, Freedom, Progress, and Human Flourishing.

If fundamental aspects of your personality can change over time, that raises the question of where we should look if we want to find an unchangeable essence at the core of your being.

Is the essence of your identity located in your conscious mind?

In his book Thinking Fast and Slow Daniel Kahneman, a psychologist, suggests that the system in the mind that makes judgements and choices is “who we think we are” (Kahneman 2011, loc. 7547/9800). He is probably correct that most people tend to identify themselves with that system.

However, I argue in Freedom, Progress, and Human Flourishing, that people are making a cognitive error when they identify themselves in that way (Bates 2021, p.140).

In order to explain why, I need to explain the two systems in the mind that Kahneman employs in his discussion. System 1 engages in intuitive thinking (fast thinking) and tends to produce quick answers to complex questions. It operates with little effort and no sense of voluntary control. System 2 allocates attention to the effortful mental activities that demand it. Kahneman suggests that System 2 is who we think we are (Kahneman 2011, loc. 7547-7556/9800).

When I first read about Kahneman’s System 1 and System 2 several years ago, I saw parallels with the concept of Self 1 and Self 2 developed by Timothy Gallwey, a sports and business coach and author of popular ‘inner game’ books (Gallwey 1986, pp. 18-19). Gallwey observed that when he was playing tennis, he seemed to have two identities: Self 2 was playing tennis and Self 1 was constantly interfering by telling him how to play. It struck me that Gallwey’s Self 1 might correspond to Kahneman’s System 2 and that Gallwey’s Self 2 might correspond to Kahneman’s System 1.

The point I want to make is that it is not possible to judge whether it is more appropriate to identify with System 1 or System 2 without considering the nature of the activity that you are engaged in at a particular time. If you are playing sport, it often pays to identify as a fast thinker, responding intuitively and ignoring the unhelpful advice of the inner coach who is warning you to think carefully to avoid making an error.

If you are making a career choice, it makes sense to identify yourself as a person who thinks carefully about important decisions.

Should we view the system that makes judgements and choices as some kind of inner philosopher who thinks dispassionately? There was a time when I thought that. However, I had to ditch that idea after I read Antonio Damasio’s book Descartes Error. Damasio, a neurologist, pointed out that when people suffer brain damage that causes loss of most of their emotional lives, they are unable to make simple decisions even if their reasoning and logical abilities are intact (Damasio 1994, p.78).

In his book, The Happiness Hypothesis, Jonathan Haidt argues that “Reason and emotion must both work together to create intelligent behavior, but emotion ... does most of the work”. He presents a useful metaphor - an elephant and its rider - to explain the relationship between the controlled and automatic systems that determine human behavior. Haidt writes:

“The controlled system ... is better seen as an advisor. It’s a rider placed on the elephant’s back to help the elephant make better choices. The rider can see further into the future, and the rider can learn valuable information by talking to other riders or by reading maps, but the rider cannot order the elephant around against its will. ... The elephant and the rider each have their own intelligence, and when they work together well they enable the unique brilliance of human beings” (Haidt 2006, p 160).

Haidt is inviting us to identify ourselves as both rider and elephant.

That seems to me to make more sense than to identify myself only with the rider, or the system in my mind that makes effortful judgements and choices. When I exercise my cognitive abilities in non-judgmental observation of bodily sensations and ideas floating past, I identify with a natural self that embodies instinct and emotion as well as reason, and all the inherent potential that individual humans are born with. I invite you to engage in similar meditative practices to see if you come to the same conclusion.

That might be a good point to end on. However, many of you will be reluctant to trust your meditative insights unless you can be persuaded that there is a philosophically respectable basis for them.

We should not even view the meditative insights of prominent philosophers as being beyond question. The philosopher I have in mind is René Descartes, who claimed “I think, therefore I am” in the 17^th century, after he had engaged in a meditative process.

Where did Descartes go wrong?

Descartes reached his conclusion, “I think therefore I am”, after going through a process of considering what sources of knowledge could not be doubted, and discovering that he could not doubt that he was thinking.

I have already mentioned Antonio Damasio’s book, Descartes Error. What does Damasio see as the source of Descartes’ error? Damasio makes the point that beings existed before long before the evolution of humans who are aware that they are thinking (Damasio 1994, pp. 248-9).

In his book, The Metaphysics of Emergence, Richard Campbell suggests that Descartes was on the right track in observing that he was unable to doubt that he was thinking. Campbell suggest that the error arose when Descartes asked himself, “What then am I?” That question “presupposes that he takes himself to be some sort of thing” (Campbell 2015, pp.282-3). Campbell suggests that Descartes question immediately entrapped him in the traditional metaphysics of entities.

At this point I must explain why Cambell considers it to be problematic to consider oneself as an entity rather than as a process.

What kind of being are you?

You observe that you are thinking, and conclude that you are a thinking being. You also observe that you are a being that has a body, and that you experience sensations and emotions.

It appears obvious that you are an entity that has all those qualities. But you are also the observer engaged in self-reflection. You can engage in radical reflexivity as you observe the thoughts passing through your own mind.

However, if you are an entity, how can you be both the observer and the being that you are observing? Could you be two entities? I don’t think so. The observer, who is you, does not exist independently of the being who is observed, who is also you.

Richard Campbell suggests a way out of this dilemma. Drop the assumption that you are a fixed, given entity. The alternative he suggests is to perceive yourself as a complex process system. That enables you to perceive of radical reflexivity as a process. He writes:

“If the assumption that there is a fixed, given entity called ‘the self’ … is rejected, the way is open to understand consciousness as a flow: a complex, emergent and interactive process which is radically reflexive” (Campbell 2015, p.292).

Our observations of the world tell us that many other animals are also aware of their surroundings. We have no problem in understanding that their awareness emerged or evolved to help them to survive and reproduce. Our human consciousness is just another step in that evolutionary process. Radical reflexivity - awareness of our own awareness - has emerged to help us to flourish as individuals in the cultures in which we live.

Campbell suggests that the flow of consciousness is analogous to a river maintaining its identity as it flows though different places. Your understanding of who you are is informed by the flow of your consciousness through time. In other words, your sense of identity is informed by your autobiographical memories. Campbell explains that this sense of identity also involves an element of projection into the future:

“I am a complex process system continually projecting myself out of my past into my future, my sense of myself necessarily involves my ‘has been’ and my ‘not yet’ (Campbell 2015, p.292).

As you think about your “not yet”, you might imagine a future that is different than your past. Perhaps that is just wishful thinking. Or you might be considering options available to change your life in various ways, or how to achieve a vision that you have for your own future. That brings me to the concept of self-direction.

How does self-direction fit into your identity?

As explained in Freedom, Progress, and Human Flourishing, I subscribe to the view that wise and well-informed self-direction is integral to the process of individual flourishing. The nature of humans is such that as individuals mature, they normally have the potential to exercise the practical wisdom and integrity required to direct their own flourishing in accordance with goals they choose and values they endorse.

However, wise and well-informed self-direction is not an attribute that is manifested by all adult humans. It is to some extent a product of the incentives in the social environment in which people live. When the social environment requires individuals to accept responsibility for the outcomes of the choices they make, they have a strong incentive to become wise and well-informed.

Acquisition of skills in self-direction is also a product of personal attitudes. Unfortunately, some people perceive that nothing they do will make any difference to their lives. Others, who have similar history, perceive the potential to improve their lives and often make inspiring efforts to so by investing in personal development.

In my personal experience, it is easier to avoid behaving like a grumpy old man when I remind myself to be the person that I have potential to become.

That brings me close to the end of what I have to say. However, before I sum up, I will keep my promise to talk about the question I said I would end on.

Would your identity be retained if your mind was uploaded into a machine?

Some neuroscientists think this might be feasible within a few decades. They point to scientific advances that suggest it might be possible, and say they are not aware of any laws of physics that would prevent it.

I am not qualified to have an informed view on the technical feasibility of mind uploading, so I will think of it merely as a thought experiment.

Imagine that your mind has been uploaded and you wake up with your memories intact in an environment that looks like the real world as you know it. Is this emulated mind actually you? As I see it, that is something that your emulated mind would have to decide for itself.

However, that does not prevent me from speculating how an emulated mind might perceive its own identity if separated from the body which it remembers as an integral component of the complex processing system from which it was derived. Perhaps the emulated mind might feel as though it is having a dream and is unable to wake up. It might feel more like a ghost than the natural self – the mind-body system – that it remembers as its former self.

It might identify as “the ghost in the machine”.

Summing up

I began by suggesting that personal information about you gives only a superficial view of who you are as an individual. Your life story might encapsulate all the important things that you know about yourself, but self-knowledge is never perfect. As you go through life, you may discover more about who you are.

Aspects of your identity may change over time. Your character might be influenced by changing incentives of the social and economic environment. And you may even change aspects of your personality to some extent, by choosing to develop new habits.

So, where is the essence of your being located? I argue that it is a mistake to think it is located solely in your conscious mind.

Descartes correctly observed that he was thinking, but in concluding “I think, therefore I am” he overlooked the fact that he had already assumed that he was some kind of being.

You are the kind of being that can observe itself. It is difficult to comprehend how you can be both an observer and the object of your observation if you think of yourself as an entity. Thinking of yourself as both observer and object poses no problem if you think of yourself as a complex processing system.

You cannot doubt that you think. You are aware of both the flow of inner experiences – thoughts and feelings – and of your experience of the world in which you live. Thinking about your experience of the world enables you to contemplate the goals you seek, to make choices in pursuit of those goals, and to learn from experience. Your sense of identity is informed both by autobiographical memories and by future projections.

If you accept that wise and well-informed self-direction is integral to your flourishing, you are likely to think of yourself as seeking to become the kind of person who has the practical wisdom and integrity to flourish in accordance with goals you choose and values you endorse.

I have speculated that if your mind was uploaded into a machine, the emulated mind would not perceive itself to be a real person with a body as well as a mind. It might remember you as its former self, but would see itself as being something like a ghost.

You understand who you are from the ongoing experience of your whole self, living in the real world. Walt Whitman captured that well in his poetry. I will leave you to contemplate a fragment from his poem, “A song of myself”:

“My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belch’d words of my voice loos’d to the eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,

The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides,
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.”

References

Bates, Winton, Freedom, Progress, and Human Flourishing (Hamilton Books, 2021).

Campbell, Richard, The Metaphysics of Emergence (Palgrave Macmillan, 2015).

Gallwey, Timothy, The Inner Game of Tennis (Pan Books,1975).

Haidt, Jonathan, The Happiness Hypothesis (Basic Books, 2006).

Kahneman, Daniel, Thinking Fast and Slow (Penguin, 2011).

Whitman, Walt, Complete Works of Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, Book III ‘Song of Myself’. (The poem, ‘Song of Myself’, was first published in 1855 in the collection Leaves of Grass.)

Friday, March 6, 2026

Does human perfectibility pose a problem?

This essay was prompted by my reading of John Passmore’s book, The Perfectibility of Man, which was first published in 1969.

I read the book mainly because of James M. Buchanan’s suggestion that “it remains the most definitive work on the history of ideas” relating to the extent to which classical liberalism depends on some presumption that man is perfectible. Buchanan made that suggestion at the beginning of a chapter entitled “Classical liberalism and the perfectibility of man”, in his book Why I, Too, Am Not a Conservative (2005). Buchanan argued that although classical liberalism does not depend on people being especially "good" in a conventional sense, there is nevertheless a presumption of human perfectibility in classical liberalism. He argued that classical liberalism requires that sufficient persons (i) prefer to govern themselves and not be dependent upon others; (ii) respect the person and property of others; (iii) eschew attempts to implement impractical visions of utopian perfectionism; and (iv) be willing to defend the political institutions of liberal society against its enemies.

I had another reason for reading The Perfectibility of Man. As an Australian interested in of human perfectibility, I felt that I should by now have read a book on this topic by a distinguished philosopher who was my compatriot.

The book was enjoyable to read and I learned a lot from it. However, I disagree with the author’s assessment of Aristotle’s application of teleology to individual flourishing. It seems to me that Passmore’s view that that “there is something more than a little strange” in “identifying perfection with the realization of potentialities” is not consistent with the view he expresses at the end of the book that humans “are capable of more than they have ever so far achieved”.

I will return to that point later in this essay. Meanwhile, I will briefly outline the scope and content of Passmore’s book.

Passmore’s history of ideas on perfectibility

Passmore discusses the long history of ideas about the perfectibility of humans from Ancient Greece and Rome to the 1960s. He discusses the differing views of Christians over the last 2000 years as well as views associated with the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the influence of social action, scientific progress and natural evolution.

The following paragraph, referring to the views of Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1881-1955), summarizes the themes of the book:

“To an extraordinary degree, then, Teilhard built into a single system almost all the main forms of perfectibilism which we have so far distinguished from one another. He was a mystic: perfection consists in union with God. He was a Christian: perfection depends on Christ’s working in man through evolution. He was a metaphysician: perfection consists in the development to its final form of that consciousness which is present, according to Teilhard, even in elementary electrons. He believed in perfection through science: scientific research is, in his eyes, the prototype of “working with God.” He believed in perfection through social change: men are to be perfected through their participation in a society infused with love. He believed that Christianity shows us in what perfection consists: the New Testament, and especially Paul, reveal to us the nature of that final unity in which evolution must finally come to rest; the Incarnation, the sacrifice of the Mass, symbolize the unity of the material and the spiritual. He believed that science can demonstrate that humanity is moving towards such a perfection. He was Pelagian in his constant emphasis on human effort; he was anti-Pelagian in so far as he argued that God’s grace is essential if mankind is to achieve its final perfection. If Teilhard had not existed, it would almost have been necessary to invent him, in order to weave together our diverse themes.”

Towards the end of the book, it becomes obvious that Passmore is particularly concerned about the tyrannical outcomes of government attempts to implement utopian ideas relating to human perfectibility.

I will now turn to the point on which I disagree with Passmore.

Aristotle’s teleology

Passmore notes that, according to Aristotle, “potential is incomplete, formless, imperfect”. That implies “the actual is ‘perfect,’ then, in so far as it is the realization of, or the giving form to, a potentiality”. He then comments:

“But there is something more than a little strange in thus identifying perfection with the realization of potentialities. Suppose a man is potentially a liar. When he actualizes that potentiality, has he thereby perfected himself? At this point, it is important to recall that the general concept of perfection does not have written into it any suggestion of moral excellence. A man can be a perfect scoundrel or a perfect idiot just as he can be a perfect saint; he can commit a perfect crime, be a perfect forger, or have a “perfectly rotten time of it.” But, as we have already pointed out, when we speak of “perfectibility,” as distinct from perfection simpliciter, the situation is different; to assert that man is perfectible is to assert that he can become, in some sense taken to be absolute, a better person. To the extent to which an analysis of perfection is directed towards helping us to answer the question whether human beings are, or are not, perfectible, it must not allow the response: “they are perfectible all right: there are plenty of men who are potential villains and who actualize that potentiality perfectly.” (p.14)

It seems to me that Aristotle’s perception of individual human perfectibility does have a suggestion of moral excellence written into it. As Passmore acknowledges, Aristotle saw the good for man, as “an activity of soul in accordance with goodness”. In that context he notes that Aristotle argues that the human good consists in a life of contemplation.

However, Aristotle suggests in Book I of the Ethics that the good of man consists in our living in accordance with practical wisdom. In his book Rational Man - in which the passage quoted in the epigraph appears - Henry Veatch comes out strongly in support of the latter view.

Veatch explains that from an Aristotelian viewpoint, a person who is honest, courageous or temperate “will not be one who has merely been conditioned to follow unthinkingly certain approved patterns of behavior. He will be one who has learned to let his choices and preferences be determined by such knowledge and understanding as he may have, rather than to proceed simply from chance feelings and impulses of the moment or from long established but mechanical habits of response.” (p. 74-5)

In his Preface to the 2003 edition of Rational Man, Douglas Rasmussen makes the point that “when Veatch spoke of how to “perfect” oneself, he did not mean that one should become Godlike, immune to degeneration, or incapable of harm. Rather it is to fulfil those potentialities and capacities that makes one fully human.”

Passmore’s bottom line

Passmore concludes that “perfectibilism is dehumanizing”:

“To achieve perfection in any of its classical senses, as so many perfectibilists have admitted, it would first be necessary to cease to be human, to become godlike, to rise above the human condition.”

However, the concept of perfectibility endorsed by Neo-Aristotelians such as Veatch and Rasmussen certainly doesn’t require humans to become godlike.

And Passmore’s final paragraph suggests to me that there is little difference between his views on perfectibility and those of the Neo-Aristotelians mentioned above:

“In spite of these reflections, which might lead us to reject perfectibilism in any of its forms, it is very hard to shake off the feeling that man is capable of becoming something much superior to what he now is. This feeling, if it is interpreted in the manner of the more commonsensical Enlighteners, is not in itself irrational. There is certainly no guarantee that men will ever be any better than they now are; their future is not, as it were, underwritten by Nature. Nor is there any device, whether skilful government, or education, which is certain to ensure the improvement of man’s condition. To that extent the hopes of the developmentalists or the governmentalists or the educators must certainly be abandoned. There is not the slightest ground for believing, either, with the anarchist, that if only the State could be destroyed and men could start afresh, all would be well. But we know from our own experience, as teachers or parents, that individual human beings can come to be better than they once were, given care, and that wholly to despair of a child or a pupil is to abdicate what is one’s proper responsibility. We know, too, that in the past men have made advances, in science, in art, in affection. Men, almost certainly, are capable of more than they have ever so far achieved. But what they achieve, or so I have suggested, will be a consequence of their remaining anxious, passionate, discontented human beings.” (p. 258)

Conclusion

This essay was prompted by my reading of John Passmore’s book, The Perfectibility of Man.

Passmore makes a strong case that government attempts to implement utopian ideas about human perfectibility result in tyrannical outcomes.

In my view, he also offers a persuasive argument that perfectibilism is dehumanizing when it is approached from the perspective of attempting to rise above the human condition - to become godlike.

However, I disagree with Passmore’s view of Aristotle’s application of teleology to individual flourishing. Passmore suggests that because the general concept of perfection does not have written into it any suggestion of moral excellence, it is possible for some people to actualize their potential perfectly by becoming villains. My response is that Aristotle’s understanding of human perfectibility does have a suggestion of moral excellence written into it. In support, I also refer to Henry Veatch’s view of the link between virtuous behaviour and the exercise of practical wisdom.

Nevertheless, after considering Passmore’s bottom line about the possibility for greater human achievement, I conclude that his view that perfectibilism is dehumanizing does not necessarily apply to Neo-Aristotelian perfectibilists. It certainly doesn’t apply to those of us who maintain that seeking to perfect oneself is about becoming “fully human”, rather than godlike.

Friday, December 19, 2025

What did Aristotle have to say about mortality?

I had not thought much about what Aristotle had to say about mortality before reading the chapter on mortality in Edith Hall’s book, Aristotle’s Way: How Ancient Wisdom Can Change Your Life (Vintage, 2018). (I have previously posted a guest essay by Leah Goldrick discussing Hall’s chapter on leisure.)

Hall’s chapter on mortality led me to ponder the title of Aristotle’s book, On Coming to Be and Passing Away. Hall mentions that book in making the point that Aristotle “undoubtedly saw death as final” even though he was sympathetic to those who were comforted by beliefs about an afterlife.

Passing

The reference to “passing away” brought to mind the use of that term, along with “passing on”, or just “passing” in referring to death. Such euphemisms make sense when motivated by a desire to avoid reminding people of the grief they felt following the death of a loved one. However, they may also refer to an afterlife. When I was a child I had no difficulty accepting my grandmother’s explanation of “passing” as being like moving from one room to another. That view was in keeping with her somewhat Platonic religious beliefs, as a follower of Mary Baker Eddy. Mrs Eddy explained death as a transitional stage in human experience and a product of what she regarded as the false belief that there is life in matter. Mrs Eddy’s beliefs now seem to me to be quite strange, but I still think her view of death is more coherent than some versions of popular theology, which seems to have the souls of dead people hanging around observing their descendants and applauding their accomplishments when they receive awards for sporting and other achievements.

I became agnostic on the question of life after death when I was a young adult. As an old man, I am now almost certain that Aristotle was correct in his belief that death is “the end”. However, I cannot completely rule out the possibility that I could have some kind of ongoing spiritual identity, and might wake up in another place – perhaps a very hot one – or even in another body.

The most terrible of all things?

Actually, Aristotle wrote: “death is the most terrible of all things, for it is the end.” I don’t agree that death is the most terrible of all things. Death can be terrible, but some forms of suffering are more terrible to contemplate than non-existence. I am too much of an Aristotelian to accept a Buddhist view of suffering as encompassing the desires and aversions that are a normal part of living, but the suffering an individual might endure - for example, with approaching dementia - would seem to me to worse than an early death.

However, before agreeing with me, readers should consider the context in which Aristotle stated that death is the most terrible of all things. The passage appears in Nicomachean Ethics III (6) where he is writing of courage and fear. Aristotle begins by making the point that we fear all evils - e.g. disgrace, poverty, disease, friendlessness, death - but the brave man is thought not to be concerned with all of them. He then asks: With what sorts of terrible things is the brave man concerned? It is at that point that he states that death is the most terrible of all things, but qualifies this immediately afterwards by suggesting that the brave man would not seem to be concerned about death in all circumstances. Please read again the relevant passage quoted in the epigraph.

Aristotle goes on to argue that “to die to escape from poverty or love or anything painful is not the mark of a brave man, but rather of a coward; for it is softness to fly from what is troublesome, and such a man endures death not because it is noble but to fly from evil” (III (7).

The golden mean

Edith Hall notes that, unlike many modern counsellors and psychotherapists, Aristotle did not prescribe “acceptance of death” as the “ultimate goal”. She writes:

“The honest truth about Aristotle’s philosophy is this: the better you have practised his ethics, and therefore the happier you have become, the more it looks, at least at first sight, that you have to lose when you die. If you have succeeded in making highly successful relationships, the thought of the interpersonal contact with your loved one ending can bring extreme but unbearable clarity to the delight your love of them brings, a clarity which may make any philosophical or theological comfort we are offered about death seem useless.”

In Aristotle’s philosophy, Hall suggests: “There is a pervasive sense that acknowledgement of our mortality and confrontation with its full implications can be used effectively to help us to live and die well.”

Hall considers whether Aristotle would have approved of the attitudes to mortality of various writers “whose obsession with death borders on fetishism”. She suggests that Aristotle would have argued for “a mean between deficiency and excess” in “our grappling with the prospect of death”. Looking toward the end an appropriate amount of time can help us to live well.

The thought that an Australian male of my age who is in good health can expect to live, on average, only about six more years helps motivate me to pursue projects that are important to me. That includes writing essays like this one.

A happy life

Hall notes earlier in her book that Aristotle did not reject Solon’s precept that no-one could ever be called happy until they were dead. In her chapter on mortality, she considers Aristotle’s discussion of whether a dead person could be called happy.

Why would Aristotle take that idea seriously? When I looked at the context (Nicomachean Ethics, I (10) I found that Aristotle began his discussion by acknowledging the absurdity of the idea that a dead person could be called happy, given that happiness is an activity (“virtuous activity of the soul”). In the subsequent discussion, Aristotle adopts the standpoint of an observer assessing whether an individual has had a happy (flourishing) life. He toys with the idea that people could be described as happy and wretched at different times of their lives as their fortunes change. He notes, however, that a person who is truly good and wise always makes the best of circumstances. He ends up asking: “When then should we not say that he is happy who is active in accordance with complete virtue and is sufficiently equipped with external goods, not for some chance period but throughout a complete life?”

A point that Hall draws from Aristotle’s discussion of whether a dead person can be called happy is that “in other people’s memories, your ‘self’ as a unique person is made complete in ceasing to be susceptible to change when you die.”

Towards the end of the chapter, Hall discusses Aristotle’s views of memory and recollection. She notes that those who have passed away live on in the memories of those who loved them and those who were affected by them. She writes:

“An Aristotelian will use her memories in a disciplined and methodical way to help her cope with her own aging process and with the loss of loved ones.”

Hall also provides an interesting account of Aristotle’s thoughtfulness in preparing his will. For example, he stipulated that his slaves were to be freed immediately on his death, or at a specified later date (such as his daughter’s marriage).

Conclusions

Edith Hall has written a helpful chapter on mortality in her book, Aristotle’s Way. The main message I take from that chapter, and from Aristotle’s writings on the topic, is to face mortality squarely.

Life is for living – for flourishing. Death is the end of life’s journey, but life is all about the journey not the destination.

Unfortunately, for some people that journey ends unexpectedly and traumatically.

For those of us who live to old age, awareness of our mortality can help us to make good use of our remaining time.

After individuals have died it is possible to assess more completely whether they have lived well because they are no longer susceptible to change.

It is appropriate to celebrate the lives of loved ones who have passed away. They live on in our memories as unique individuals.