Are all modern ethics emotive?
The third approach to be considered, which also problematizes modernity in terms of freedom and meaning, is that advanced by Alasdair MacIntyre. Habermas’s modernist response was to resolve the problem of meaning through returning to, and completing, the Enlightenment project. Foucault’s postmodern approach was to turn inward, in classical Stoic fashion, and cultivate the self. MacIntyre, on the other hand, suggests the reintroduction of a pre-Enlightenment model. Understanding the problem to be caused by the loss of natural teleology, MacIntyre’s solution is to look to the past for a social and ethical model which can support teleology and traditional ways of life which have been marginalized by modernity. His diagnosis is that the loss of teleology has not only led to a loss of meaning but also led to the ethical impoverishment of modern moral discourse. Recognizing Aristotelian ethics contains a telos, which connects the individual and community in the pursuit of a shared good, MacIntyre’s response is to revive the Aristotelian virtue ethics tradition. However, in this chapter it will be argued that this approach is untenable.
In order to illustrate the impracticality of MacIntyre’s theory, this chapter will begin by addressing MacIntyre’s account of modernity and where he sees the problem to have emerged from (Section 6.1). Here it will be illustrated that the consequence of the Enlightenment’s failure to rationally justify morality was the emergence of emotivism which has dominated not only ethical discourse but also modern European culture. In Section 6.2, it will also be questioned whether this criticism can be extended to our socio-existential approach to authenticity; that is, we will seek to determine if MacIntyre’s prognosis also underpins the ethical approach developed in this book. Having defended our concept of authenticity against any charges of emotivism, we will then turn to MacIntyre’s constructive account (Section 6.3). Here we will discuss MacIntyre’s proposed resolution to emotivism: to revive the virtue ethics tradition through practices, narrative and tradition and we will also discuss their resemblance to authenticity. It will also be suggested that his account of narrative unity enables us to further develop the socio-existential account of authenticity. In Section 6.4 MacIntyre’s virtue theory will be critically analysed and it will be illustrated that his account of tradition is unsatisfactory for the reason that it is informed by nostalgia. Furthermore, it will be argued that the pessimistic conclusion of After Virtue leads to the realization that, as a means to resolve the diagnosed problem, MacIntyre’s account is insufficient.
6.1 Modern culture of emotivism
MacIntyre’s philosophical epic, After Virtue, begins with the ‘disquieting suggestion’ that modern European culture is akin to a post-catastrophic scientific community.1 Within this hypothetical scenario, people believe that they are practising science when what they are engaging with are merely fragments of scientific theories. As a consequence of no longer possessing the context for these theories, MacIntyre claims that their practices are incomprehensible and unjustifiable. This, however, we are informed, is not merely a hypothetical situation, but a metaphor for the current state of modern moral philosophy. As MacIntyre himself puts it, ‘what we possess [. . .] are the fragments of a conceptual scheme, parts which now lack those contexts from which their significance derived’ (2010: 2). MacIntyre’s reason for asserting this is because he notes that within modern moral discourse there is no longer any possibility of engagement to reach moral truth. That is, despite appeal to supposed ‘objective standards’ which are drawn from historical origins, moral differences are at their very core incommensurable.
MacIntyre inherits this argument, that modern moral philosophy is based on a conceptual scheme of which key elements are now missing, from G. E. M. Anscombe. In ‘Modern Moral Philosophy’, she claims secular approaches to morality are without foundation (1958). Within her influential article, Anscombe focuses her attention on utilitarianism and deontological ethics, which she claims to be misguided attempts to replace the role of God with that of a legislator. This is made explicit through the modern usage of the terms ‘ought’, ‘obligation’ and ‘right’, which were previously given context and validity by God. However, Anscombe notes that within modern moral philosophy the ascription of these to an artificial legislator renders these terms incoherent.2 The reason is because ethical values were granted validity by the authority of God, but deontology and utilitarianism take these very terms and attempt to provide a rational foundation for them. Her response is that the gap caused by this ‘needs to be filled by an account of human nature, human action, that type of characteristic a virtue is, and above all of human “flourishing”’(2010: 41). MacIntyre develops Anscombe’s account by suggesting that the reason why moral agreement cannot be arrived at is because the arguments have become relative to the advocate’s perspectives, and as such, their standards are not objective and their rational arguments are arbitrary.
According to MacIntyre, the unrecognized catastrophe which led to these consequences was the collapse of the Enlightenment Project. MacIntyre’s underlying claim is that within medieval Europe, from the twelfth century onwards, the dominating moral scheme was structurally similar to that devised by Aristotle in his Nicomachean Ethics. That i s, medieval moral philosophy was of the same teleological structure as Aristotelianism, insofar as it begins with a theory of man-as-he-happens-to-be and advances a view of man-as-he-ought-to-be-if-he-recognized-his-telos, both of which were underpinned by a rational end. Within the theistic frameworks of Christianity, Judaism and Islam, respectively developed by Aquinas, Maimonides and Avicenna, the understanding of human telos was, however, extended beyond reality, becoming something which is achieved in the next life. Nevertheless, the role that ethics plays within these theoretical frameworks is to help agents achieve their natural end. Furthermore, common to each of these teleological structures is that one arrives at one’s natural end through reason. This, however, was undermined by the emergence of a socio-historical event which challenged key elements of this teleological structure.
Here MacIntyre draws upon Max Weber, whom he recognizes as a major articulator of the modern condition and shares the historical diagnosis that Protestant religious denominations lie at the root of the problem.3 However, it is not Protestantism per se but rather the voluntarist teachings of Luther, Calvin and Pascal, as practised in Northern Europe, to which MacIntyre traces the problem. Voluntarist Christian moral theology suggests that the arbitrary will of God is the source of moral laws. This belief undermined the structure of preceding theories because it separated moral judgement from practical reasoning and denied that one could discover what is right through natural inclinations. Since the purpose of preceding approaches to ethics was to enable humans to achieve their natural end, MacIntyre claims that the rejection of any sense of human nature, and the abandonment of the notion of telos, leaves a moral scheme with no teleological context for its framework.
Although moral voluntarism maimed teleological ethics, MacIntyre claims that this was a fatal blow which resulted in a fundamental distortion of that which ethical and moral reasoning entails. Rather, when the theology of religious voluntarists was dismissed by the Enlightenment, secular moral philosophers mistakenly assumed that rational morality possessed this very content and form. As MacIntyre suggests, ‘Kant never doubted for a moment that the maxims which he had learnt from his own virtuous parents were those which had to be vindicated by a rational test’ (2010: 44). As a consequence, the task of modern moral philosophy became to devise a new telos or find a new categorical status for the rules of morality. Kant attempted to create a new categorical status for moral absolutes, through inviting individuals to determine their own maxims. Bentham, having arrived at the belief that the rational end of humanity was happiness, attempted to devise a new telos based on the principle of utility, emphasizing the greatest good for the greatest number. However, since moral positions such as deontology and utilitarianism do not possess an objective form of the good to validate their claims, MacIntyre suggests secular moral philosophy became a mere mask for arbitrary choice.
As a consequence of this flawed moral framework, eighteenth-century philosophers’ task to provide a rational foundation for their moral beliefs became unachievable. As MacIntyre concisely puts it, ‘they inherited incoherent fragments of a once coherent scheme of thought and action, and since they did not recognize their own peculiar historical and cultural situation, they could not recognise the impossible and quixotic character of their self-appointed task’ (2010: 55). This he elucidates through the examples of Hume, Kant and Kierkegaard, who all attempted to justify morality upon the conditions determined by the Enlightenment. Concluding that morality was not a rational process, Hume argued that it was determined by the passions. Kant, responding to Hume, and rejecting his reasoning, advocated the rational determination of the will. Recognizing both of his predecessors to be mistaken, Kierkegaard then abandoned both of these in favour of the arbitrary choice of the will.4 Although each of these thinkers adopted the content of traditional conservative morality, MacIntyre claims that as a consequence of voluntary theology’s rejection of teleology they were caught between the autonomy of the individual and the authority of moral principles. As he aptly expresses, ‘the elimination of any notion of essential human nature and with it the abandonment of any notion of telos leaves behind a moral scheme composed of two remaining elements’ (2010: 55). That which remained was (a) man as he is, and (b) moral principles. However, without telos, moral principles become entirely arbitrary.
In MacIntyre’s account, the Enlightenment project of justifying morality therefore failed, not because of fallacious reasoning, but because ethics and action were not treated teleologically. Without a natural telos there was no measure to judge whether an action was good or evil. Thus, the primary challenge to morality was the religious move to voluntarianism with Luther, Calvin and Pascal denying that humans could discover their end through reason. This, however, was not the only cause of the catastrophe, but was supplemented by the secular and scientific rejection of Aristotle’s natural philosophy. Focusing on the moral–ethical consequences, MacIntyre notes that, like the scientific fragments in his disquieting suggestion, moral rules have survived in absence of their teleological context. What caused this situation according to MacIntyre was therefore twofold: the secular rejection of Christian theology and the philosophical rejection of Aristotelianism.
In Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity, MacIntyre refines his account of modern moral philosophy, which he terms ‘morality’. He here employs this term to encompass not only philosophy but also modern moral thinking and the cultural ‘institution’ or framework underpinning it.5 He employs this term to categorize a variety of moral theories which adhere to six salient characteristics. The criteria which MacIntyre sets forth is that it is a secular doct rine, universally binding, functions as a set of constraints, is framed in abstract terms, advocated as the latest development in moral thought and whose rules ought always to be obeyed. As MacIntyre himself explains, ‘it is presented as a set of impersonal rules, entitled to the assent of any rational agent whatsoever, enjoining obedience to such maxims as those that prohibit the taking of innocent life and theft and those that require at least some large degree of truthfulness and at least some significant measure of altruistic benevolence’(2016: 65). Here MacIntyre has Kantianism, utilitarianism and contractarianism in mind, which suggest that agents have a duty not to harm others, and act in a way which brings about the greatest good for all: ‘in the area of theoretical debate, there are Kantian, utilitarian, and contractarian exponents of Morality and of each such view there are several versions’ (2016: 117). However, unlike Aristotelianism, within which ethics, politics and economics are all connected through the pursuit of eudaimonia, within Morality these are all separated, unconnected spheres. This leads MacIntyre to question, ‘whence then is it that the precepts of Morality are taken to derive their peculiar authority for those whom those precepts have authority?’ (2016: 119). That is, presented as a universal norm, which is abstract from all other spheres of social life, what is it that justifies Morality’s universal appeal?
According to MacIntyre, the consistent failure of Morality to provide a satisfactory response to this problem has resulted in emotivism.6 This is the ethical perspective that all moral judgements are none other than expressions of preference, attitude or feeling. This moral standpoint was championed by C. L. Stevenson, according to whom ‘this is good’ means roughly the same as ‘I approve of this; do so as well’ (MacIntyre 2010: 12). Modern moral philosophy culminates in this position because it embraces the belief which preceding moral arguments have attempted to resist, that there is no rational foundation. As MacIntyre elucidates, ‘what I have suggested to be the case by and large about our own culture – that in moral argument the apparent assertion of principles functions as a mask for expressions of personal preference – is what emotivism takes to be universally the case’ (2010: 19). Thus, if emotivism is true, then all moral disagreement is rationally interminable. However, as a moral theory, MacIntyre illustrates that emotivism fails for three reasons.
First, to elucidate a sentence by its function, an essential part of the theory must provide identification and characterization of the feelings or attitudes in question. However, on this matter emotivism is circular. An emotivist would claim that moral judgements express feelings and when pressed further they would claim that these are feelings of approval, but when asked ‘what kind of approval’ they would be forced to remain silent or beg the question by stating ‘feelings of approval’. Secondly, it conflates expressions of personal preference and evaluative preference. These, however, ought to remain separate for the reason that personal preferences derive validity from evaluative preference. As MacIntyre states, ‘utterances of the first kind depend upon who utters them to whom for any reason-giving force they may have, whilst utterances of the second kind are not similarly dependent for their reason-giving force on the context of utterance’ (2010: 31). Thirdly, emotivism is a theory about the meaning of sentences, but the expressions of feeling or attitude is characteristically not a function of the meaning of sentences but their use on particular occasions. To illustrate this, MacIntyre draws upon Gilbert Ryle’s example of the angry schoolmaster who shouts the correct answer at the student who has made an arithmetical mistake. MacIntyre’s point is that the use of this sentence to express feeling has no connection with its meaning.
Although MacIntyre’s argument has thus far been concerned with abstract moral theory, he illustrates that the loss of teleology has had wider-reaching implications, impacting upon modern society as a whole. The first social implication which emerges from the loss of teleology is a lack of unified identity, and which has led to the ‘compartmentalisation of the self’ (2006a: 159). What MacIntyre means is that modern individuals fulfil contradictory roles because they lack a coherent identity. For example, one may assume the role of a loving partner and parent, yet simultaneously facilitate a position, such as an administrator or insurance broker, which permits one to treat others instrumentally, and as the means to monetary gain. For MacIntyre this is the consequence of the loss of an overall structure of the good with which to coordinate one’s actions and life. As MacIntyre explains, ‘the peculiarly modern self, the emotivist self, in acquiring sovereignty in its own realm lost its traditional boundaries provided by a social identity and a view of human life as ordered to a given end’ (2010: 34). As a consequence of the fragmented and disconnected nature of modern moral discourse, supposed ethical appeals merely mask the individual’s subjective preference. A further consequence of this cultural condition is that rather than enabling one to arrive at any genuine moral insights, ethical arguments simply provide a tool for manipulation.7 It is this very outcome, of the emergence and acceptance of manipulation, which lies at the heart of the modern world for MacIntyre.
This second implication, according to MacIntyre, has led to the consequence that we now exist within a ‘culture of emotivism’, which permits us to treat others instrumentally. In order to make this apparent, he offers the example of modern social characters who conduct themselves according to emotivist principles, such as the ‘rich aesthete’, ‘manager’, ‘therapist’ and ‘conservative moralist’.8 The rich aesthete employs schemes to manipulate others to alleviate boredom, the manager treats their employees as a means to achieving efficiency, the therapist treats their patients according to their theories, regardless of the patient’s own goals, and the conservative moralist opposes liberal politics which seek to transform society, based on their own conservative values. Each of these characters exhibits characteristics of emotivism insofar as none of them actually question what they do, they just do it, and judge their success by measuring the effectiveness of manipulating others into their projects. MacIntyre thus concludes that the aesthete’s schemes, the manager’s efficiency, the therapist’s theories and moral conservative’s values are merely manipulative tools.9 Here MacIntyre can be seen to share a similar perspective of modernity to Weber, who summarizes the perverse state of modern moral culture and civilization by claiming ‘of the last stage of this cultural development, it might well be truly said: “Specialists without spirit, sensualists without heart; this nullity imagines it has attained a level of civilisation never before achieved”’ (2005: 124).
6.2 Emotivism and authenticity
Having provided his prognosis of modern European culture, MacIntyre claims that Nietzsche’s analysis is ‘one of two genuine theoretical alternatives confronting anyone trying to analyse the moral condition of our culture’ (2010: 110). In MacIntyre’s account, Nietzsche makes two significant contributions to moral philosophy. First, Nietzsche recognized that the appeals to objectivity made by thinkers of the Enlightenment were none other than exercises of subjective will. Secondly, he understood the logical implications of this insight and its consequences for moral philosophy. However, although MacIntyre honours Nietzsche with this achievement, he simultaneously discredits him in dismissing what he perceives to be Nietzsche’s ethical project. MacIntyre understands Nietzsche as claiming that if morality is none other than the expression of will, then morality is only what is created by one’s will. Moreover, if morality is a fiction, then one ought to replace reason with will and courageously take it upon oneself to become ethically autonomous and determine one’s own values. This then leads MacIntyre to make the backhanded compliment that ‘it is in his relentlessly serious pursuit of the problem, not in his frivolous solutions that Nietzsche’s greatness lies’ (2010: 114).
In order to elucidate his view of Nietzsche’s contribution, MacIntyre offers the analogy of Captain Cook’s voyage to Polynesia. Upon arrival, the ship’s crew noticed that the natives had strict laws on certain practices, such as the restriction on communal dining of mixed genders. However, when the Europeans questioned the reason for this peculiar cultural practice, they were offered the explanation that it was ‘taboo’. Later, when Christian missionaries requested that these laws be repealed, the king, Kamehameha II, was able to do so without question or consequence. The explanation MacIntyre offers for this phenomenon is that Polynesian culture once had a set of background beliefs which had since been abandoned and forgotten. In this way, MacIntyre claims that modern morality has become equivalent to Polynesian ‘taboo’. He then questions, ‘why should we not think about our modern uses of good, right, and obligatory in any different way from that in which we think about late eighteenth century Polynesian uses of taboo? And why should we not think of Nietzsche as the Kamehameha II of the European tradition?’ (2010: 113).
The second genuine alternative to analyse the modern condition is that provided by Aristotelianism. MacIntyre claims that Aristotle advocated the most comprehensive ethical theory – namely, living in accordance with one’s nature enabled one to obtain eudaimonia, or human flourishing, and live the good life. Thus, it is the absence of teleology, which was present in Aristotle’s virtue ethics, which has led to the problems with which MacIntyre contends. However, in a liberal democracy there can be no shared good, and as such, ethical debate can be none other than subjective preference. For MacIntyre’s Nietzsche, the ultimate foundation of morality is the ‘will to power’. However, MacIntyre is critical of what he conceived to be the dominating philosophical perspective, as advocated by Nietzsche’s metaphysical heirs. Given the culture of emotivism, MacIntyre recognizes that the doctrine of will to power is the correct metaphysical diagnosis. This then led him to question if it ‘was it right in the first place to have rejected Aristotle?’ (2010: 117).
Although MacIntyre provides a compelling account of the ethical inadequacies of modern moral philosophy, one concern which arises is whether this is applicable to our socio-existential theory of authenticity. This issue arises because MacIntyre extends this criticism to Sartre and Nietzsche, from both of whom dimensions of our concept of authenticity have been derived. MacIntyre’s claim is that Nietzsche’s successors are the heirs to emotivism.10 Here attention will be turned to analysing MacIntyre’s exact criticism and whether this charge is corre ct. Since the concept of authenticity developed in this book incorporates aspects of Sartrean philosophy, and works within the Nietzschean tradition, it will be necessary to illustrate that MacIntyre’s criticism cannot be extended to the concept of authenticity advocated within this book. In order to demonstrate that this is the case, we will first lay out MacIntyre’s criticisms of Sartre and Nietzsche and explain the sense in which MacIntyre understands Nietzsche and Sartre to be emotivists.
MacIntyre’s criticism of Sartre as perpetuating emotivist ideals is one which he has held since early in his career. In A Short History of Ethics MacIntyre expounds the fundamental tenants of emotivism and prescriptionism by comparing them to Sartrean existentialism. In his own words, ‘like Sartre, the prescriptivist and emotivist do not trace the source of the necessity of choice, or of taking up one’s own attitudes, to the moral history of our society. They ascribe it to the nature of moral concepts as such. And in so doing, like Sartre, they try to absolutize their own individualist morality’ (1997: 171). Here MacIntyre is making a meta-ethical criticism, namely, that a key component which Sartre and emotivism share is that neither derives their ethical standpoint from an objective source. On the contrary, both approaches begin with the individual determining the ethical through their own faculties, as opposed to appealing to external moral norms and values. Thus, according to MacIntyre, a consequence of Sartre’s self-overcoming of nihilism is the denial of our intersubjectivity, believing that the individual develops themselves irrespective of moral norms or external values.
A second respect in which MacIntyre associates Sartre with emotivism is present within his recently published Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity. Here MacIntyre imagines Ayer commending Sartre for his emphasis on individual independence from any system of values, unless one so chooses. As MacIntyre elucidates, ‘in this rejection of any standard external to and independent of agents’ feelings, concerns, commitments, and attitudes by appeal to which their normative and evaluative judgements might be justified, expressivists have on occasion found common ground with at least one version of existentialism’ (2016: 23). This ethical critique is also prevalent in After Virtue where he compares Sartre with sociologist Erving Goffman, taking both to be advocates of emotivism in their rejection of an essential self. Comparing their concepts of subjectivity, MacIntyre claims, ‘for Sartre, whatever social space it occupies it does so only accidently. And therefore he too [like Goffman] sees the self as in no way an actuality’ (2010: 32). The second manner in which MacIntyre associates Sartre with emotivism is thus in regard to his rejection of ethical locatedness. That is, MacIntyre’s critique is that the radical individualism of the existentialists leads to ethical relativism by suggesting that the individual determines and validates that which is ethical for themselves.
Unlike his criticisms of Sartre, which appear sporadically throughout his major texts, MacIntyre’s criticism of Nietzsche is much more sustained, and one which takes central stage in After Virtue. However, as an adequate analysis of MacIntyre’s view of Nietzsche has been presented in the preceding pages, here the focus will be restricted to the fundamental grounds of disagreement. As with his charge of subjectivity against Sartre, MacIntyre’s preoccupation with Nietzsche begins in A Short History of Ethics, where he makes a similar meta-ethical criticism. MacIntyre’s complaint is that ‘Nietzschean man, the Übermensch, the man who transcends, finds his good nowhere in the social world to date, but only in that in himself which dictates his own new law and his own new table of the virtues’ (1997: 257). This is problematic because it denies the shared values and norms which emerge from within intersubjective relationships. As MacIntyre elucidates, ‘it is because this is so that the great-man cannot enter into relationships mediated by appeal to shared standards or virtues or goods; he is his own only authority and his relationships to others have to be exercises of that authority’ (1997: 258).
In Dependent Rational Animals, MacIntyre praises Nietzsche both biographically and philosophically for his heroic actions in attempting to reject the external factors which impinged upon his existence. However, MacIntyre claims that the outcome of Nietzsche’s rejection of external norms and values is that one cannot exist intersubjectively. As MacIntyre stresses, ‘among the commitments and relationships that Nietzsche has had to reject in order to escape from what he took to be their imprisoning power are just those without which shared communal deliberation cannot take place’ (1999: 165). The consequence of this is a lack of external justification, as MacIntyre continues to explain, ‘Nietzsche, in a heroic series of acts isolated himself by ridding himself, so far as is humanly possible, of the commitments required by the virtues of acknowledged dependence’ (1999: 162).11 MacIntyre has in mind Nietzsche’s genealogical method, which suggests that social norms are none other than the expression of domination, the recognition that one lives in conformity to the herd that allows for the ability to break free and gain ethical independence. MacIntyre thus exclaims that ‘the Nietzsche of Beyond Good and Evil, has arguments that, if treated with adequate seriousness, force on expressivists a significant reformulation and extension of emotivism’ (2016: 42). The reformulation which MacIntyre imagines would be in choosing between identifying with a pre-rational attitude or present desire, Nietzschean genealogy would then lead an emotivist to recognize the discredible nature of their judgements.
MacIntyre’s criticisms of emotivism, and which he directs against the philosophical thought of both Sartre and Nietzsche, are therefore threefold. First, both approaches begin from the individual and attempt to turn their own moral standpoint into universal ideals. Secondly, that a consequence of the rejection of external norms as bad faith, or the domination of the herd, results in a lack of external justification for those values which they attempt to posit as ethical ideals. Thirdly, that their philosophies deny the centrality of intersubjectivity to ethical life and, if realized, would culminate in a perverse society wherein human interdependencies are unacknowledged or, worse, derided. MacIntyre brings these criticisms together, applying them to both Nietzsche and Sartre accusing both of extending the ethic inherent in emotivism. In his own words,
when Nietzsche sought to indict the making of would-be objective moral judgements as the mask worn by the will-to-power of those too weak and slavish to assert themselves with archaic and aristocratic grandeur, and when Sartre tried to exhibit the bourgeois rationalist morality of the Third Republic as an exercise in bad faith by those who cannot tolerate the recognition of their own choices as the sole source of moral judgement, both conceded the substance of that for which emotivism contended. (2010: 22)
MacIntyre’s criticism is, therefore, that both Nietzsche and Sartre’s rejection of social relations and intersubjectivity prevents a communal good being posited, and that without a concept of the good they are unable to critique immoral action.
Now that MacIntyre’s criticisms have been elucidated we may turn to analysing whether these can be extended to the concept of authenticity developed here. In devising the dimensions of a socio-existential approach to authenticity, we began with Sartrean choice. Likewise, from working within the Nietzschean tradition, rejecting the way in which social norms limit one’s capacity for self-realization, our account seems susceptible to MacIntyre’s charges of emotivism. However, assuming his charges against Sartre and Nietzsche are correct, it will be illustrated that this has no bearing upon our concept of authenticity.12 The concern, then, is whether this charge of emotivism is applicable to the socio-existential approach to authenticity.
Our account of authenticity is, however, able to overcome these charges. In order to make this explicit, it will first be useful to recap on precisely that which our approach entails. In Chapter 3 it was determined that the socio-existential approach to authenticity was composed of six dimensions. These were (i) choice, (ii) commitment, (iii) maturity, (iv) becoming what one is, (v) intersubjective consciousness and (vi) heritage. The first dimension, choice, was derived from Sartrean thought and is a key component of authenticity. This, however, was criticized by Merleau-Ponty for the reason that if we can reject our choice freely then it cannot be considered to be truly meaningful. In response to this criticism we then modified this dimension through appeal to Beauvoir’s concept of commitment – that choices become more meaningful the longer we are committed to them. We then considered that although one may be committed to one’s choice, one may still fail to live authentically because one’s project has not been carefully chosen. In order to prevent one from committing to an unrealizable goal, we then turned to Ferrara’s concept of maturity. It then became apparent that our choices cannot be groundless but must come from somewhere, and we adopted the Nietzschean dimension of becoming what one is. Although this seemed to suggest a subjective stance, that our choice was a representation of what we are, we then drew upon Taylor’s horizon of intelligibility which led to the dimension of intersubjective consciousness. However, it was suggested that Taylor’s account did not quite explain the historical and temporal constraints imposed upon us, and so we introduced the dimension of heritage. We then determined that through living in accordance with these dimensions one’s life was imbued with meaning.
There are, therefore, two specific points in our theory to which MacIntyre’s criticisms are potentially applicable. The first is the Sartrean derived dimension of choice, and the second is the Nietzschean inspired dimension of becoming what one is. With regards to the former, if we take individual choice to be the basis for ethical decisions then we arrive at a purely subjective standpoint. As for the latter, the meta-ethical explanation that choices gain intelligibility from self-affirmation appears to reject intersubjectivity and any form of external validity. These two dimensions alone are therefore susceptible to MacIntyre’s ethical and meta-ethical criticisms of emotivism. However, our socio-existential approach departs significantly from Nietzsche and Sartre and avoids MacIntyre’s criticism of being subjectively derived through our penultimate dimensions of intersubjective consciousness. That is, by recognizing that our choices are limited and given meaning by the context within which we exist, we gain validity from an external source.
The resolution to MacIntyre’s three criticisms – the meta-ethical criticism of absolutizing individual choice, the ethical criticism of lacking an external framework to validate individual values and the social criticism that if universalized this moral approach would culminate in a perverse state – lies with the dimension of intersubjective consciousness. First, by insisting that individuals exist within a horizon of significance, we are able to circumvent MacIntyre’s concern that emotivism lacks any source of validation outside the self. That is, by taking an intersubjective standpoint, one’s choice is only made meaningful, and granted validity, in relation to other individuals. Secondly, the dimension of choice, which our account of authenticity began with, cannot be said to be subjective because one’s choices are informed, and made meaningful, by one’s social context. The socio-existential approach to authenticity, therefore, overcomes MacIntyre’s charges of subjectivity, by arguing that human beings exist within a cultural horizon, and that it is from here one obtains one’s possibilities of choice. Thus, we may satisfactorily claim that although Sartre and Nietzsche may be guilty of these accusations, the concept of authenticity constructed within this book is not.
6.3 Practices, narrative and tradition
Having provided an overview of MacIntyre’s theory of modernity and illustrated that his criticisms of emotivism in no way impinges upon our account of authenticity, attention will now be turned to articulating MacIntyre’s constructive project. His argument thus far has been to illustrate the limitations of emotivism, and to argue that, although Nietzsche believed himself to have overturned Enlightenment morality, Nietzsche himself perpetuates this position. MacIntyre’s attention then turns to providing an argument why we ought to revive the virtue ethics tradition. In advocating virtue ethics, he provides an argument why Aristotle’s ethical approach is the most comprehensive account of ethics and offers the means to renew the virtues within modern society through his tripartite theory of practices, narrative and tradition. In this section, MacIntyre’s theory will also be compared and contrasted with the socio-existential approach to authenticity.
In order t o argue that it was wrong to have rejected Aristotle, and that we ought to revive the virtues, MacIntyre offers a compressed history of the virtue tradition. He begins by appealing to recorded accounts of early human civilization from within Irish, Icelandic and Hellenic literature. The view at which he arrives is that within each of these heroic societies subjects understood themselves in relation to their community. Moreover, MacIntyre establishes that within these virtue-based communities that moral and social life was inseparable. Focusing on the various views of virtues within Athens, MacIntyre demarcates what he believes to be four competing approaches: Sophistic, Platonic, tragedian and Aristotelian. MacIntyre’s account of Sophistic virtues holds that virtues are relative, insofar as they advocate that which is desirable for each particular city.13 His analysis of Platonic virtues claims that for Plato the virtues are real, unified and crucial to one’s success as a citizen.14 MacIntyre’s view of tragedian virtues focuses on Sophocles, within whose plays virtues are portrayed as objective but conflicting, that is, although human effort is judged by the gods it is shown to be ultimately futile.
MacIntyre rejects Sophistic virtues as relative, and tragedian as futile, and whilst he believes Plato’s approach articulates a concise account of the virtues, in Whose Justice? Which Rationality? he ultimately argues that Aristotle is a more rigorous thinker (1988). In his analysis, MacIntyre notes that the Aristotelian approach addresses the question of the good life in a much more coherent manner than the previous accounts. It does so by positing the telos of human existence as eudaimonia, which loosely translates to ‘human flourishing’ or ‘happiness’, and which is achieved by the virtues. As MacIntyre’s surmises, ‘the virtues are precisely those qualities the possession of which will enable an individual to achieve eudaimonia and the lack of which will frustrate this movement towards that telos’ (2010: 148). Within his approach, the character qualities which enable one to achieve eudaimonia must be recognized by the community, whilst it is the role of the community to determine the course of action which enables the individual’s achievement.
The Aristotelian account thus connects both the individual and communal goal. Furthermore, human virtues and civic laws are connected, in that laws do not make sense without virtues and the development of virtues is encouraged and supported by laws. This approach, however, is in contrast to modern society, wherein the individual is an autonomous agent who understands themselves to have entered into society by choice to protect their own interests. Despite upholding Aristotle’s account of the virtues in After Virtue, MacIntyre takes issue with several aspects. First, he rejects Aristotelian metaphysical biology, because he believed that it led to an indefensible metaphysical doctrine of nature, namely, that it justified arbitrary inequalities and was thus ideological. Secondly, he expresses the concern that particular virtues presuppose a particular polis. As he makes explicit, ‘if a good deal of the detail of Aristotle’s account of the virtues presupposes the now-long-vanished context of the social relationships of the ancient city-state, how can Aristotelianism be formulated so as to be a moral presence in a world in which there are no city-states?’ (2010: 163). Thirdly, he sees the unity of the virtues as a mistake, as it does not permit tragedy or moral dilemmas. As a result of Aristotle’s belief in the unity of the virtues, conflict only occurs when a hero with flaws emerges. MacIntyre, on the other hand, siding with the Homeric and Sophoclean view that tragedy is basic to the human condition, argues that conflict is natural and necessary in order for individuals to learn and develop the virtues.15
Tracing the genealogical development of the virtues, MacIntyre notes that the Aristotelian tradition was continued within the cloisters of the medieval universities. The Scholastic appropriation of Aristotelianism, however, added additional virtues and modified the account of teleology.16 For Aristotle, telos was something which could be achieved by living well, whereas in Christianity the end goal, of salvation, was only to be achieved in the next life. Through their modification, MacIntyre claims that the Scholastics improved Aristotelian teleology in two respects.17 First, whereas Aristotle restricted eudaimonia to certain individuals, the Scholastics made it obtainable to everyone. Secondly, the medieval account of the virtues was historically aware. That is, MacIntyre claims that despite engaging with preceding accounts of ethics, Aristotle did not have a historical sense of himself as working within a particular tradition. In response to the various accounts of virtues, MacIntyre attempts to determ ine a ‘single core conception of the virtues’ (2010: 181). However, rather than the practical claims offered in the aforementioned accounts (Sophistic providing that which is desirable; Platonic, what it takes to be a successful citizen; tragedian, to understand the gods; and Aristotelian, to achieve eudaimonia), he focuses on that which they are doing when they define virtues. This then leads him to determine that virtues refer to excellence in practical reasoning and human action.
In defining virtues in this way, MacIntyre begins the constructive part of his approach, where he is concerned with how one can become virtuous and how the good life is attained and which he attempts to articulate through the idea of ‘practices’. These refer to specific activities within which one acquires abilities which enable one to develop within a particular field. As MacIntyre himself explicates, ‘[practices are] any coherent and complex form of socially established cooperative human activity through which goods internal to that form of activity are realised in the course of trying to achieve those standards of excellence which are appropriate to [. . .] that form of activity’ (2010: 118). What he is suggesting is that in order to be considered a practice it is necessary that the field in question is (i) complex, (ii) possesses a standard of excellence and (iii) leads to internal goods. In order to elucidate, MacIntyre offers the concrete examples of farming, football and chess. Each of these cases is complex in the sense that they are constituted by various components. For example, farming is not a simple matter of growing vegetables, but requires various techniques in order to be successful within that field. There are also standards by which it is possible to determine the ability of a farmer, footballer or chess player. That is, it is possible to objectively claim that someone is a bad farmer if their crops fail to flourish, a poor footballer if they fail to score or a poor chess player if they lack the foresight to determine the outcomes of their moves.
Fundamental to the notion of practices are what MacIntyre refers to as ‘internal goods’. These refer to the good that is unique to the practice and which is only attainable by engagement in that practice, and are contrasted with external goods such as financial or material gain and social status. MacIntyre explains the relationship between internal goods and practices through the example of teaching a child how to play chess (2010: 188). Initially, one could motivate the child to play by rewarding them with the external good of sweets. However, since the child perceives the practice of chess merely as a means to achieving the sweets, it makes sense for them to cheat. If, on the other hand, the child was motivated by the internal good of becoming a skilled player within the practice of chess, then they would conceive of cheating as counterproductive. The notion of practices therefore possesses a moral dimension insofar as it implies acting towards an end in order to obtain excellence, as opposed to instrumentally perceiving practices as a means to obtain an external good. In recognizing this internal feature, that it is through practices that we learn the virtues initially, MacIntyre makes the claim that morality ought to be conceived of as practice based. The reason is because realizing internal goods requires acting in virtuous ways, such as being honest, courageous, just and by acting with integrity.
MacIntyre’s emphasis on, and development of, internal goods distinguishes between appropriate and inappropriate activities within practices. That is, he determines that internal goods, which are an end in themselves, offer the appropriate moral action, whereas external goods, which are acquired through treating practices as a means to an end, lead to inappropriate actions. Here MacIntyre can be seen to advocate an ethical approach similar to the concept of authenticity upheld in this book, in that it makes a distinction between authentic and inauthentic choices. That is, like internal goods, authentic actions are those which are enacted as an end in itself for the individual’s own good, whereas inauthentic actions, like external goods, are those which are conducted to achieve an end through treating something else as a means. MacIntyre’s notion of practices can therefore be seen to provide an ethical guide to action which divides actions into two categories: those which enable one to act ethically and those which do not. This leads MacIntyre to offer the preliminary definition of virtues as that which ‘enables us to achieve those goods which are internal to practices and the lack of which effectively prevents us from achieving any such goods’ (2010: 191).
The second aspect of MacIntyre’s theory of virtues emerges as a consequence of his rejection of certain components of Aristotelianism.18 As he himself notes, ‘if we reject [Aristotle’s metaphysical] biology, as we must, is there any way in which that teleology can be preserved?’ (2010: 162). In order to overcome this problem, and supplement his account of practices, he substitutes Aristotle’s concept of natural teleology with a sociological account. MacIntyre’s alternative is to suggest that individuals ought to understand themselves in terms of self-narrative. What is meant by this is that whenever one has a concept of self, understanding their life from beginning to middle to end, that concept and understanding takes a narrative form. That is, ‘the unity of an individual life is the unity of a narrative embodied in a single life’ (2010: 218). Narrative involves a search for who one is, and what one ought to do. This then incorporates an element of the individual determining their telos for themselves, by questioning, ‘what is good for me?’ It is then for this reason that MacIntyre claims, ‘the unity of human life is the human of a narrative quest’ (2010: 203). The goal which the individual sees in their future and is pursued through action then serves as the telos for their acts. Not only does narrative provide a telos, insofar as it posits a goal for the future, but it also circumvents compartmentalization, that is, the fragmentation of one’s identity, which underpins emotivism. This leads MacIntyre to claim that narrative is in fact the correct way of understanding identity, and as such, compartmentalization, is contrary to our proper mode of understanding ourselves.
Through the imperative of embarking upon a narrative quest to reclaim unity, MacIntyre seems to be articulating something similar to the concept of authenticity devised in this book. Both MacIntyre’s approach and socio-existential authenticity are premised on the recognition that without teleology human existence lacks unity. Whilst authenticity is a response to the loss of natural teleology, and argues that the individual can, to a certain extent, determine the meaning of their life for themselves, MacIntyre also offers an alternative to the natural teleology offered by Aristotle’s metaphysical biology and argues that unity can be obtained through understanding one’s existence in terms of a narrative quest. More than this, he argues that this is the correct way of understanding human agency. This approach is given in contrast to the existentialist conception that the individual is able to choose their existence for themselves; instead, MacIntyre argues that the concept of person is given in advance of any choice. That is, ‘the key question for men is not about authorship; I can only answer the question “What am I to do?” if I can answer the prior question “Of what story or stories do I find myself a part?”’ (2010: 201).
MacIntyre further develops the concept of narratives in Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity. Responding to Strawson’s critique, that narrative is the wrong way to conceive of one’s life, MacIntyre claims that humans do not always consciously conceive of their lives in terms of narrative.19 On the contrary, MacIntyre claims,
we generally become aware of the narrative structure of our lives infrequently and in either of two ways, when we reflect upon how to make ourselves intelligible to others by telling them the relevant parts of our story or when we have some particular reason to ask ‘How has my life gone so far?’ and ‘How must I ask if it is to go well in future?’. (2016: 241)
Thus far, MacIntyre’s theory of virtues has presented an account of how one ought to act, through practices, and the means to readdress the loss of natural teleology through narrative quest, both of these, however, focus exclusively on the individual. In order to defend his account against the same charges of subjectivity as he levies against emotivism, MacIntyre supplements his account with the concept of ‘tradition’.
Tradition is applied in the normal sense of a cultural tradition which shapes one’s identity. As MacIntyre himself explains, ‘what I am, therefore, is in key part what I inherit, a specific past that is present to some degree in my present. I find myself part of a history and that is generally to say, whether I like it or not, whether I recognize it or not, one of the bearers of a tradition’ (2010: 221). This goes along with that which the existentialists referred to as ‘facticity’ (Heidegger 2010: 82; Sartre 2013: 79). However, whilst they believed that this was not something essential which defines one, for MacIntyre it is a necessary component of self-understanding. He also uses the concept of ‘tradition’ in a more technical sense, which suggests that traditions are not simply cultural frameworks within which we exist, but also are preserved or surpassed through sustained dialogue. As he makes evident, ‘a living tradition is a historically extended, socially embodied argument, and an argument precisely in part about the goods which constitute that tradition. Within a tradition the pursuit of goods extends through generations, sometimes through many generations’ (2010: 222). It is thus through the virtues that traditions are extended and developed. In this sense, traditions frame practices, and it is the historical development of these which increases the complexity and raises the standards of excellence. More than this, however, they provide a rational account of how societies develop historically.
Thus, contrary to abstract universal norms, natural rights and individual choice, as exemplified in modern moral debate, for MacIntyre, ethical theory ought to be contended and capable of developing through dialogue. Understanding virtues in terms of practice and narrative is only satisfactory when considered in relation to the historical contexts to which they belong. This leads MacIntyre to offer a further definition of virtues:
The virtues find their point and purpose not only in sustaining those relationships necessary if the variety of goods internal to practices are to be achieved and not only in sustaining the form of an individual life in which that individual may seek out his or her good as the good of his or her whole life, but also in sustaining those traditions which provide both practices and individual lives with their necessary historical context. (2010: 223)
Within the publications which succeed After Virtue, it is the notion of tradition which MacIntyre focuses on and attempts to develop. The primary reason was because his emphasis on particular traditions raises the question of whether values are relative to those traditions.20 In order to contest this charge of relativism, MacIntyre develops the idea that rationality is tradition-guided enquiry in Whose Justice? Which Rationality? As Jean Porter explains, ‘what had initially been suggested as a moral concept, a part of the necessary framework for developing the idea of virtue, has now been transformed into an epistemic and linguistic concept, which plays a central role in explicating the meaning of truth and rationality’ (2003: 50). Akin to the concept of authenticity, MacIntyre suggests that since we exist within a cultural framework this framework provides us with our possibilities. That is, in forming a narrative one does so from within a historical context and social setting. Moreover, MacIntyre claims that Morality, understood in the Williamsian sense, is social and constituted by human relationships.
Having defined virtue, MacIntyre then turns his attention to determining the way in which virtue-based ethics could be reintroduced into modern society. In order to achieve th is, he first offers an analysis of the modern use and understanding of virtues. In doing so he notes that there has been a shift in culture from emphasis on virtues to the ‘virtue of rule following’ (2010: 235). That is, rather than attempting to develop those virtues which enable one to live well, the concept of duty has been upheld as the fundamental virtue which individuals ought to embrace. Furthermore, individuals no longer pursue excellence in practices, but attempt to understand and advance morality through art and literature.21 The Victorians in particular perpetuated this practice, offering moral tales which offer advice on how to conduct oneself. As a consequence of the loss of natural teleology and a shared natural good, ‘the tradition of the virtues became an empty shell in the dominant culture of modernity. Yet, the language of virtue has remained a central part of Western moral vocabulary’ (Lutz 2012: 131).
However, he notes that there are two approaches which have attempted to reintroduce the tradition of virtues to modernity. The first of which was suggested by William Cobbett, who attempted to achieve political change and looked back in history to identify the ideal circumstances for the development of virtues. The second emerged within the novels of Jane Austen, whose characters live private lives of virtue even when the world makes it difficult for them to do so. However, having shown that Cobbett attempted to radically reform society but with no lasting consequences, MacIntyre determines that Cobbett’s ‘public political work’ cannot provide an adequate model (2010: 239). Rather, it is Austen’s account, which attempts to develop the virtues within the enclaves that society overlooks, to which MacIntyre turns for inspiration on how to re-implement the virtues. For him, Austen’s novels ‘teach us to observe that both in her own time and afterwards the life of the virtues is necessarily afforded a very restricted social and cultural space’ (2010: 243). Recognizing that the same conditions within which Austen devised her characters are those which confront the modern individual, MacIntyre suggests the only way forward is ‘the construction of local forms of community within which the intellectual and moral life can be sustained through the new dark ages which are already upon us’ (2010: 263).
Comparing modernity to the dark ages, MacIntyre notes that the virtues survived the fall of Rome. However, he also arrives at the stark realization that this time the barbarians are not waiting at the gates, but that they have been governing us for a long time. What MacIntyre is inferring is that although he has articulated the theoretical method to revive the virtue ethic tradition within modern society, the conditions by which to do so are no longer present. MacIntyre arrives at the rather sobering realization that ‘we must seek an architect for this model of social life that will enable communities to embody the tradition of the virtues to flourish in the midst of a social and political culture that rejects its tradition’ (2010: 243). In reference to Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, within which the protagonists wait in vain for an unknown reason, MacIntyre concludes After Virtue with the pessimistic claim that the only hope is to wait for a new St Benedict.22
6.4 Criticisms of MacIntyre’s virtue ethics
Now that MacIntyre’s theory of the virtues has been discussed, attention will be turned to critically analysing the components of practices, narrative and tradition. Here we will discuss the possibility of evil practices, the practicalities of narrative quest and the charge of nostalgia as informing his concept of tradition. It will be argued that there is an inherent problem with his dimension of practices, insofar as it potentially permits one to cultivate cruel actions. The dimension of narrative, however, will be defended and shown to be beneficial to the development of our theory of socio-existential authenticity. The concept of tradition, on the other hand, will be shown to be steeped in nostalgia, and as such creates a distorted image of ethical reality. Furthermore, it will be argued that his pessimistic conclusion reinforces the claim that virtue theory is unable to provide a practical resolution to the problems of modernity.
One major criticism of the theory of practices is that many forms of sexual violence, such as rape, meet the criteria which MacIntyre devised in order to determine what constitutes as a practice. According to Elizabeth Frazer and Nichola Lacey, rape is complex in that there are various components, there is a standard as to what constitutes rape and the act itself is the realization of that good which is internal to it. As they themselves put it, ‘masculine dominance and the symbolic and material subjugation of femininity can be uniquely realised through the penetration of a woman, with the phallus, against her will’ (1996: 274). Their claim is that MacIntyre’s definition of practices prior to the good, and his neglect of power relations is what permits ‘evil practices’. They suggest that this can be resolved in two respects. First, MacIntyre could redefine his concept to include such practices as football, but exclude sexual violence, though it would be difficult to do so without arbitrary appeals. Secondly, he could develop an account of power relations and a theory of power. This would enable him to avoid including sexual violence within practices by arguing that rape cannot be considered a practice because it is a manifestation of power.
This argument, however, is not entirely convincing. First, because the purpose of sexual assault is always an internal good, such as sexual gratification or power, both of which MacIntyre would define as external goods. Secondly, sexual assault is a vicious act and one which any rational agent would define as a vice, as opposed to a virtue. Moreover, MacIntyre himself personally responds to this criticism, rejecting the claim that it is necessary to sup plement his conception with an account of power relations, and that if he were to do so his account would become incoherent. Furthermore, MacIntyre claims there is already a conception of justice inherent within practices which defends against deformation and prejudice. As he explicitly states, ‘the conception of justice as a virtue which is required if the goods internal to practices are to be achieved, let alone the goods of individuals lives and of communities, is itself sufficient to provide a standard for identifying and condemning the deformations and distortions to which practices may be subjected, and the consequent injustices to women and others’ (1996: 290).
However, although MacIntyre can dismiss sexual violence, his account nevertheless seems susceptible to the inclusion of ‘evil’ practices. Let us imagine, for example, a community of assassins within which the inhabitants revere and advocate the execution of their targets with increasingly cruel techniques. In such an example, the more sadistic and savage the act, the more the assassin is respected and the greater their reputation becomes. Within this community, assassination can be conceived of as complex in that it incorporates various techniques and actions. There is also a standard of excellence involved which develops with the invention and implementation of more barbaric and efficient means to dispose of one’s victim. For this reason, practices may be said to permit immoral acts, and in this respect MacIntyre’s account is flawed. Since practices are fundamental to MacIntyre’s ethical theory, insofar as they possess internal goods, and are capable of determining the good life, it would seem that MacIntyre cannot provide a sufficient reconfiguration of the Aristotelian virtue ethics tradition.
With regard to narrative, the second part of MacIntyre’s theory of virtues, Bernard Williams claims that it comes up short on two grounds (2009). First, he questions how it is possible to identify the narrative of a person’s life unless one possesses a prior conception of a person’s life. Secondly, continuing this line of argument, he asks how narrative can contain the possibility of coherence without possessing an antecedent idea of the coherence of a person’s life. Williams argues that both of these problems can be resolved through making concessions. First, MacIntyre could claim that narrative does not need to explain the most elementary levels of what a person is. Rather, we begin with a basic understanding of a person and simple actions and can explain the more complex aspects and actions through narrative. Secondly, MacIntyre could claim that the coherence of life is not recognized in advance of its narrative interpretation, but rather we are given material about which questions of coherence can be asked and answered in terms of narrative.
However, Williams recognizes that these concessions raise doubts concerning the sources of these interpretations, their standing and their relations to fictions. He quotes Kierkegaard, who claims it is not possible to interpret one’s own life because one can never be in a position to retrospectively analyse it. This then appears to undermine MacIntyre’s account, since he states that it is essential to discover who one is in order to decide what one should do, and if one cannot reflect on who one is, then one will not be able to decide what to do. One way of resolving this issue would be to permit that others could interpret our lives on our behalf. This seems to be inferred by MacIntyre’s example of the various interpretations of the life of Thomas Becket (2010: 198). If this is indeed the case, then the unity of an actual life is the unity of a fictional life. Furthermore, Williams claims, that MacIntyre must believe ‘unity is found first in life, and is carried over from life to the construction of fiction’ (1996: 310). Williams, however, argues that such a position is indefensible, and that we cannot understand our lives as analogous to fictional characters for the simple reason that they do not possess unrealized possibilities. That is, fictional characters’ entire lives are already set out within a novel. As Williams concisely explains, ‘it is essential to fictional lives that their wholeness is always already there, and essential to ours that it is not’ (1996: 311).
These concerns then create problems for MacIntyre’s concept of narrative – namely, if a narrative is retrospectively applied to one by another, and the person in question was not aware of the narrative which they are supposed to embody, then where does that narrative come from? Williams suggests two possible responses. The first is that even if one cannot consciously aim towards embodying a particular narrative, it could be claimed that their considerations were nevertheless drawn from a repertoire of stories which define recognizable lives. The second is that the considerations which shape one’s life are not ordered into a unified whole and that the narrative which gives unity to one’s life is a fiction. Williams, however, sides with the latter, believing ‘we have a much greater interest in living a life that is our own and in having an adequate grasp of the considerations that at various stages direct it, than we do in the ambition that it should genuinely present a well-shaped tale to potential narrators of it’ (1996: 313). Thus, for Williams, it is more important to live a fragmented, but authentic life, than one which conforms to a coherent narrative which has been determined by someone else.23
Williams’s criticisms are quite accurate, and if MacIntyre had intended the concept of narrative quest in a literal sense, then these would be much more damning. However, MacIntyre’s intention was to employ this as a metaphor, albeit one which he took too far. As Michael Bell makes apparent, ‘MacIntyre’s use of narrative as a model of the moral life seems to me to be justified for its purposes. But the need for this metaphor to be so deep and subliminal as not to appear metaphorical at all leaves it with a slippery and potentially misleading value when extrapolated from its context’ (1992: 172). That which is truly important for MacIntyre, and which he is attempting to elucidate, is personal intelligibility and the idea of trying to lead a life of integrity, of not being a mass of contradictions or, worse, an unreflective mass of contradictions unaware of the tensions in one’s life. The concept inherent within narrative is an important one, and one which we do regularly employ in order to make sense of our lives. It also seems accurate to claim that such retrospective self-interpretation enables us to question the meaning of our individual lives. Thus, that which is necessary in order to maintain this concept is to remind ourselves that narrative is merely a metaphor of how we arrive at self-understanding. This metaphor of narrative is also beneficial to the development of ou r own understanding of authenticity. By conceiving of authenticity in these terms, we can provide a unified understanding of our own lives. This line of argument, however, will be further discussed in Chapter 7.
Thus far, we have discussed the major criticisms of the concepts of practices and narrative. We have illustrated that although there are flaws inherent within practices, which prevent MacIntyre from excluding evil acts, his concept of narrative is beneficial to our concept of socio-existential authenticity. With regard to his concept of tradition, however, it will be claimed that the primary problem, that it is grounded on the desire to revive a bygone era, negatively impacts upon MacIntyre’s entire project. MacIntyre himself pre-empts this criticism in his discussion of traditions where he claims that ‘this virtue is not to be confused with any form of conservative antiquarianism; I am not praising those who choose the conventional conservative role of laudator temporis act. It is rather the case that an adequate sense of tradition manifests itself in a grasp of those future possibilities which the past has made available to the present’ (2010: 223). Here he attempts to differentiate his own position from that of conservativism. However, the charge of nostalgia more specifically suggests that MacIntyre arbitrarily favours and attempts to revive a moral framework which was indicative of pre-modernity.
The attempt to revive a pre-modern theory is supposed through his pessimistic view of modernity which simultaneously undermines his account. The conclusion that we are living within a new dark age suggests that modern individuals are worse off than their predecessors, and his claim that modernity has dismantled the means to reintroduce virtue ethics expresses a deep pessimism regarding the success of his project. This perspective is further expressed by John Horton who emphasizes that ‘given the importance which MacIntyre attaches to the social embeddedness of thought and enquiry, his largely negative views of modernity continually threatens to undermine any attempt to root his positive proposals in the contemporary world’ (1996: 14). Thus, it would seem that the consequence of MacIntyre’s nostalgia, to return to and revive the trajectory set by the Aristotelian tradition, leads to the pessimistic conclusion that the reimplementation of virtue ethics is not something which can be easily achieved, for the reason that the necessary social conditions have been rejected by modern European society. The pessimistic overtones of After Virtue thus lead to the perspective that it is, as Benjamin Barber dramatically puts it, ‘a sermon of despair’ (1988: 190).
Terry Pinkard accurately pinpoints this charge of nostalgia against MacIntyre when he states that ‘[his] sustained attack on the notion that “the present is progress” has fuelled that idea that he must be some kind of nostalgic pre-modern thinker, a kind of Irish-Scottish Heidegger, wishing, as it has been unkindly said, for all of us to return to some vanquished Catholic world within which the cacophony of the modern condition is absent’ (2003: 180–1). Pinkard, however, argues that the charge of nostalgia is not a legitimate one. He attempts to do so by demonstrating that MacIntyre’s disdain for modernity does not stem from a romantic longing for a pre-modern existence, but rather from within the influences exercised upon him by Karl Polanyi and Max Weber. Granted neither of these theorists held romantic sympathies, Pinkard further argues that MacIntyre’s recognition of rights for women and minorities prevents one from categorizing him as a pre-modern thinker. Pinkard thus defends MacIntyre against this charge of nostalgia, on the grounds that those with whom he developed in dialogue did not idealize the past and that MacIntyre himself was a staunch defender of modern rights. MacIntyre himself makes this second claim explicit in Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity where he states that there has been genuine historical progress in political liberation, and artistic and scientific achievements. As he puts it, ‘the history of modernity, insofar as it has been a series of social and political liberations and emancipations from arbitrary and oppressive rule, is indeed in key respects a history of genuine and admirable progress’ (2016: 123). However, although he recognizes the positive contributions of modernity, his outlook still remains relatively negative, for as he continues, ‘yet it is this very same modernity in which new forms of oppressive inequality, new types of material and intellectual impoverishment, and new frustrations and misdirections of desire have been recurrently generated’ (2016: 124). Thus, although MacIntyre’s does recognize that there has been a certain degree of progress within modernity, he is still nevertheless quite sceptical.
In terms of romantically praising pre-modernity, we can claim that MacIntyre’s approach is a lot more nuanced than first anticipated. However, a further charge of nostalgia is made against MacIntyre by Martha Nussbaum in her review of Whose Justice? Which Rationality? Here Nussbaum claims that MacIntyre longs ‘nostalgically for a unanimity that human life has never really had’ (1989: 41). Thus, rather than ascribing a general romanticism as motivating MacIntyre’s emphasis on tradition, Nussbaum’s claim is that the form of virtue which MacIntyre prescribes is one which has never before existed. To reiterate MacIntyre’s pessimistic conclusion, modernity cannot sustain the virtues because it lacks the practices which give the virtues determinate content. However, although MacIntyre believed that this unanimity was inherent within pre-modernity and lost with the onset of modernity, this belief can be challenged on two grounds.
First, although MacIntyre takes practices to be fundamental to the virtues, and claims that the conditions for the virtues, including practices, are no longer present, it can be objected that not all pre-modern work was practice based. That is, it is a myth that all pre-modern people acquired the good by participating in practices. As Keith Breen makes explicit, ‘it is certainly true that some forms of work [. . .] once had a practice-like character, but it is also true that whole categories of people – women, serfs, the poor – were denied access to them by institutions such as the medieval guild’ (2016: 148). MacIntyre himself recognized this problem as inherent within Aristotle’s metaphysical biology, and it was for this reason that he initially rejected Aristotle’s account of natural teleology. That is, for Aristotle, only autonomous, male citizens could achieve eudaimonia. Thus, whilst we can claim that the practices did exist in pre-modernity, they were only accessible to a limited group of autonomous citizens.
Secondly, MacIntyre’s belief that only pre-modernity enabled us to engage in practices is also mistaken. Following on from the previous point, that not all pre-modern life was practice based, David Miller argues ‘MacIntyre’s decl ine-and-fall-of-the-practices thesis is at best a gross exaggeration, and it follows that there are many contemporary forms of human activity within which different conceptions of justice apply’ (1994: 259). Focusing on the concept of justice, which all practices have at their core, Miller contends that there are internal goods to achieve and standards of excellence to comply with within modern economic activities. And although modern society may not possess the same concept of justice as pre-modernity, there are competing conceptions of what is just within modern society, and which adhere to the conditions of practices. Moreover, in this way, Miller claims ‘for the first time, perhaps, almost everyone can aspire to a state of affairs in which their merits are recognised and duly rewarded’ (1994: 259). Thus, although many traditional practices have become redundant, we can nevertheless conceive of new practices which emerged with modernity and which have become accessible to a greater number of people. Furthermore, we can claim that the unanimity which MacIntyre believed to be present within pre-modernity, and which leads to his pessimistic conclusion, is a fiction.
As we saw, MacIntyre ends After Virtue with the pessimistic conclusion that the necessary conditions with which to revive the virtue ethics tradition no longer exist. However, if we accept Nussbaum’s line of argument, then the conditions which MacIntyre envisages never truly existed, and his own narrative quest, to revive this pre-modern framework, is the search for Novalis’s blue flower.24 In the closing sentence of After Virtue, MacIntyre suggests that instead of Godot, we are waiting for a new St Benedict. However, as a consequence of his nostalgia, this metaphor is a little too apt, for if the conditions which he depends upon never existed, then like Beckett’s Godot, the new St Benedict will never arrive. In his disdain towards modernity and desire to revive a pre-modern framework, a quote from Max Weber seems appropriate: ‘to the person who cannot bear the fate of the times like a man, one must say: may he rather return silently, without the usual publicity build-up of renegades, but simply and plainly. The arms of the old churches are opened widely and compassionately for him’ (1991: 155).
Weber’s criticism entails that traditional values remain present for those who wish to remain in the shade, for those who delude themselves into believing that the past was better than the present, and that this traditional framework can be restored. A similar criticism can be made from our socio-existential perspective. Namely, rather than deceiving oneself with regards to the restriction of freedom and loss of meaning, the socio-existential attitude is to acknowledge that we must courageously confront our existential predicament. The necessity to avoid nostalgia, on our account, is to ensure we maintain a realistic approach. If we delude ourselves into believing a sense of unanimity exists this would prevent one from living an authentic existence, as our choice would not be a mature one. Thus, by resisting nostalgia, and taking a realistic approach, by embracing one’s fate, we can avoid descending into an inauthentic existence.
6.4 Summary
We began this chapter with MacIntyre’s analysis of modernity and the claim that modern moral discourse and society has been dominated by emotivism. Although he had applied this criticism to Sartre and Nietzsche, we defended our concept of authenticity by illustrating that the dimensions of intersubjective consciousness and heritage enabled us to circumvent this charge. Having discussed MacIntyre’s suggestion to revive the virtue ethics tradition, we then critically analysed his proposal which was constituted of practices, narrative and tradition. Here we argued that whilst the concept of narrative was beneficial to our own account, MacIntyre’s account of practices appears to permit the flourishing of evil acts. Moreover, tradition, which was based on a nostalgic sense of unity, which did not exist, led to his pessimistic conclusion. However, throughout this enquiry it was determined that although MacIntyre’s virtue ethics does not provide a satisfactory theory, our engagement was not entirely negative, but led to the further development of our concept of authenticity. This has been our aim within the last three chapters – to further develop the socio-existential ethic of authenticity. Having derived various aspects from each alternative approach to modernity, we will now revisit these and draw out the implications for our concept of authenticity.
Notes
1 Within this chapter we will focus predominantly on the philosophical arguments devised within MacIntyre’s magnum opus, After Virtue. It is in this text where MacIntyre presents his most systematic critique of modernity, and his first attempt to articulate his response to that problem. Although his resolution has been modified within subsequent publications, the general outline of his account remains unchanged. For this reason, attention will be focused on the account developed in After Virtue, and which will be supplemented by noting the developments which take place in his later thought.
2 There are two ways of reading ‘Modern Moral Philosophy’: (i) as advocating virtue ethics, and (ii) as an argument for religious based ethics, the former of which is upheld here. For the arguments surrounding these two readings, see Virtue Ethics, eds. Roger Crisp and Michael Slone (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 9.
3 Their views, however, differ insofar as Weber is not troubled by that which MacIntyre has problematized. Weber believes there is no telos and this is something we have simply got to accept. For an excellent analysis of Weber’s influence upon MacIntyre, see Breen, Under Weber’s Shadow (2012), Part III.
4 MacIntyre’s reading of Kierkegaard is a controversial one which has been contested by Kierkegaard scholars and dealt with extensively in Kierkegaard After MacIntyre: Freedom, Narrative, and Virtue (Chicago: Open Court, 2001).
5 On this point, MacIntyre is not only indebted to Anscombe, as previously indicated but also inspired by Bernard Williams, who in understanding Morality in this way takes it to be problematic. Ethics in Conflicts of Morality, 158.
6 In Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity, MacIntyre turns his attention to philosophy of mind, in order to determine how desires are orientated towards their ends. Here he determines that there are two ultimate approaches: neo-Aristotelianism and expressivism. The latter of these he refers to as a more philosophically advanced account of emotivism, and which he defines as a second order theory about the meaning and use of evaluative and normative expressions. That is, it holds that evaluative and normative judgements are the expressions of desires and passions.
7 In this respect, MacIntrye can be seen to be influenced by Weber’s ‘polytheistic disenchantment’, which Habermas also address and sees the concept of expertise as perpetuating. Whilst Weber endorses this as paving the path to a meaningful vocation, MacIntyre rejects it as endorsing emotivism, that all reasons and arguments are expressions of individual preference.
8 The fourth character, the moral conservative, was only added in the third edition of After Virtue, as MacIntyre himself makes explicit in the prologue ‘conservative moralists, with their inflated and self-righteous unironic rhetoric, should be set alongside those figures whom I identified [. . .] as notable characters in the cultural dramas of modernity.’ Ibid., xv.
9 Although bureaucrats and managers may attempt to validate their roles in terms of the ‘science of management’, MacIntyre claims that they have no grounds to do so. After Virtue, 77. Rather, ‘the concept of managerial effectiveness is after all one more contemporary moral fiction’. He argues that there is no such thing as neutral, impersonal appeals to objective facts, and since expertise also relies upon ‘facts’, it is thus never objective. Social scientists offer a mechanistic science of behaviour, which has been supported by bureaucracies to justify their expertise. However, although managerial expertise derives authority from social sciences, the social sciences themselves have not yet been justified as sciences. Ibid., 106–8.
10 In After Virtue he targets Sartre, and in Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry, Foucault and Derrida also come into his sights.
11 The virtues of acknowledged dependence are just generosity, virtues of giving (industriousness in getting, thrift in saving and discrimination in giving), and virtues of receiving (gratitude, courtesy, forbearance and truthful acknowledgement of dependence). Ibid., 121–7.
12 Kevin Hill has defended Nietzsche against MacIntyre’s criticisms and argues that MacIntyre’s Nietzsche is not the true Nietzsche. Understanding MacIntyre’s critique to rest upon Nietzsche’s rejection of all previous cultural frameworks, Hill argues, ‘Nietzsche is neither rejecting the Enlightenment project altogether, nor the classical tradition which it superseded.’ ‘MacIntyre’s Nietzsche: A Critique’, International Studies in Philosophy 24, no. 2 (1992): 3–12.
13 This perspective, that the Sophists endorsed relativism, is based upon the misattribution of the term ‘Sophist’ to rhetoricians such as Thrasymachus and Gorgias who are never actually referred to as ‘Sophists’ within the Platonic dialogues within which they feature. See Corey, The Sophists in Plato’s Dialogues (2015).
14 Here MacIntyre can be seen to derive the Platonic conception of virtues from Republic, where it is argued that justice is the defining virtue of the soul, and that which presides over Spirit and desire. However, since there is no single text devoted to ethics within Plato’s oeuvre, that precisely which Plato is advocating is a contested issue. For the arguments surrounding this topic, see Plato 2: Ethics, Politics, Religion, and the Soul, ed. Gail Fine (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000).
15 MacIntyre concedes these points in his later work. In his subsequent writings, beginning with Three Rival Versions of Moral Inquiry, he comes to embrace Aristotle’s metaphysical biology through his endorsement of Thomism. He also revokes his critique of the unity of the virtues in Whose Justice? Which Rationality?
16 What Christian thinkers such as St Augustine and St Aquinas considered to be theological virtues were faith, hope and charity, and which were derived from 1 Corinthians 13.
17 St Augustine and St Aquinas used the Latin term beatitudes and although MacIntyre takes these two terms to be equivocal, there is a significant difference. Namely, that eudaimonia is happiness attained through natural means, whilst beatitūdō is that derived through supernatural union with God.
18 MacIntyre makes his reason explicit in Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity, where he states ‘his [Aristotle’s] conception of the natural slave as one who can act in accordance with reason only as the instrument of another and his claim that women are unlike men in their inability to control their passions as reason dictates are both wrongheaded in themselves and symptoms of something more deeply wrong’, 85.
19 Strawson’s approach is instead to advocate ‘the truly happy-go-lucky, see-what-comes-along-lives are among the best there are, vivid, blessed, profound . . . a gift for friendship is shown in how one is in the present’. However, MacIntyre questions, ‘what are the happy-go-lucky able to say in explaining and justifying their lives, when they are called to account by those others? What has Strawson to say on their behalf?’ (2016: 240).
20 Although MacIntyre argues that tradition can provide a rational means of moral discourse, in Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry, he attempts to demonstrate the manner in which rival traditions can enter into dialogue. Here he distinguishes between tradition, which he sees as championed by Aquinas, with the encyclopaedic approach which he associates with the Enlightenment, and the genealogical mode of moral inquiry which is indicative of Nietzsche’s successors.
21 Oscar Wilde’s exclamation ‘There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written or badly written. That is all’, which was given in response to the criticism of The Picture of Dorian Gray that it was immoral and would corrupt those who read it, can be seen to be a reproach against this moralized view of art.
22 MacIntyre’s choice is made apparent by John Henry Newman, according to whom, ‘St Benedict found the world, physical and social, in ruins, and his mission was to restore it in the way not of science, but of nature, not as if setting about to do it, not professing to do it by any set time, or by any rare specific, or by any series of strokes, but so quietly, patiently, gradually, that often till the work was done, it was not known to be doing’, referenced in Christopher Dawson’s Religion and the Rise of Western Culture (New York: Image Books, 2001), 53.
23 Although MacIntyre deals extensively with Bernard Williams’s philosophical approach within in Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity, in which he argues that it is a response to expressivism, he does not address William’s criticisms of narrative.
24 Within Novalis’s unfinished novel, Heinrich von Ofterdingen, the protagonist dreams of the most beautiful flower he has ever perceived, however, as he reaches out to pluck it he awakens from his dream and spends the rest of his life searching for it in vain. The blue flower thus became a symbol of romanticism and the nostalgic longing for the unobtainable.