3. The Project of a Virtuous Life

Reading Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography recently, I was struck by his methodical and almost scientific approach to self-betterment. His project of cultivating thirteen virtues is a powerful, secular example of virtue ethics in practice (Franklin, 1996). It frames the moral life not as a set of rules to be followed, but as a character to be built. When I reflect on my own life, the virtue I most need to cultivate is patience. As a father to a four-year-old, working from home means my professional life and family life are in constant, overlapping contact. The struggle to remain focused through repeated interruptions is a daily challenge. In these moments, I am actively trying to apply Stoic principles to maintain my composure and respond with the kindness my daughter deserves, but it is a difficult and ongoing practice (Aurelius, 2002). More patience would not only reduce my own internal friction but would undoubtedly make me a better father and a more effective professional.

Franklin’s life suggests a strong correlation between virtue and happiness, and my own observations generally support this. People who are genuinely kind, honest, and temperate seem to possess a deeper sense of contentment, a state the ancient Greeks called eudaimonia, or human flourishing (Aristotle, 2009). However, I believe this connection is not absolute and is heavily dependent on one’s material circumstances. Virtue, in my view, is a sort of luxury good; it is difficult to prioritize when your basic physiological and safety needs are not being met (Maslow, 1943). I would be less surprised to find that a person experiencing homelessness has not led a perfectly virtuous life. Is their unhappiness a result of a lack of virtue, or are both the unhappiness and the inability to focus on virtue a result of their desperate external conditions? Franklin himself was a wealthy man by the time he embarked on his virtue project, possessing the stability and leisure necessary for such introspection. It seems that a just society, one that ensures people’s basic needs are met, is a prerequisite for a virtuous one.

When considering the formal systems of virtue ethics, I find myself drawn to a middle ground, a synthesis of Aristotelian and Daoist thought. Aristotle’s framework is compelling because of its practical, rational, and secular-friendly approach. His concept of the “golden mean”—finding a virtue as the midpoint between two vices—is a powerful tool for character analysis (Aristotle, 2009). Yet, the effortless harmony of Daoism also appeals to me deeply. The two are not incompatible. One could use Aristotle’s reason to identify the mean for patience (the balance between frustration and apathy), while using Daoist Wu Wei to practice it (Laozi, 2008). Instead of fighting the reality of an interruption, one could yield to it gracefully, address the need, and return to work with less internal resistance.

The other systems resonate less with me. I find little value in Aquinas’s approach, which feels like an unnecessary theological layer added to Aristotle’s already robust system. While I respect the profound wisdom in Buddhist ethics, its ultimate motivation—to escape the cycle of reincarnation—is not compelling to me, as I do not share its metaphysical assumptions. For my own life, a practical virtue ethic must be grounded in this world, blending the active character-building of Aristotle with the harmonious acceptance of the Dao.

Reference List

Aristotle. (2009). The Nicomachean ethics (L. Brown, Ed.; D. Ross, Trans.). Oxford University Press. (Original work published ca. 350 B.C.E.)

Aurelius, M. (2002). Meditations (G. Hays, Trans.). Modern Library. (Original work published ca. 180 C.E.)

Franklin, B. (1996). The autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Dover Publications. (Original work published 1791)

Laozi. (2008). Tao te ching (S. Mitchell, Trans.). Frances Lincoln. (Original work published ca. 4th century B.C.E.)

Maslow, A. H. (1943). A theory of human motivation. Psychological Review, 50(4), 370–396.