virtue is not a habit - copy · a "habitus." l o e s scholastic a n y d ,...

SERVAIS PINCK4ERS

VIRTUE IS NOT A HABIT

• he concept of virtue occupies a central place in moral theology.As part of the renewal of this science in our day, an attempt is be-ing made to restore virtue to the full significance it formerly possessed.Its importance has been weakened, in fact if not in theory, by the dis-proportionate amount of space devoted by modern moralists to the studyof sin. Current moral theology can be characterized in terms of sin-centered morality. It is to be hoped that it will once again become a true moral theology, one that will be concerned with a morality centeredaround virtue. It would be gratifying to see it tear off the stern police-man's mask it wears while prohibiting access in certain directions orforbidding particular actions, and to see it exchange it for the miraculoussmile of the Angel of Rheims, inviting men to enter joyfully into thesanctuary, and pointing out to them the part of the virtues that will leadthem to it.1

Proper methodology dictates that we ask ourselves at the very begin-ning of our task of renewal what the nature of virtue is. What do weunderstand by this term? A good moralist undoubtedly will furnish usat once with a well formulated definition. It is not a question, however,of a well formulated definition. Instead, it is the global impressionspontaneously created in our mind by the use of the word "virtue" thatcalls for our attention and demands careful analysis. The complexhuman reaction we experience when we hear the word uttered, a reac-tion that is a combined product of thought, will, emotion and memory,sometimes gives virtue a meaning that is very different from the oneexpressed in its simple definition.

An analysis that goes beyond the level of abstract definitions can bevery serviceable. Formally, for example, the Greek and Latin mind, and

1 Our attention in this article will be concentrated on acquired moral virtue sinceit is acquired virtue that lies at the heart of the difficulty created by modelling therepresentation of virtue on habit. The conception of virtue as a creative capacity,which is the ideal of it that will be set forth in this article, is all the more valid,obviously, in the case of the infused virtues, the virtues which God works within usdirectly.

Father Servais Pinckaers, O.P. is a member of the Dominican community of La Sarte-Huy in Belgium. His article appeared in NOUVELLE REVUE THEOLO-GIQUE, April 1960. Another of his articles, "The Revival of Moral Theology/' was in CROSS CURRENTS, Winter 1957.

Cross Currents (Winter 1962), 65-81, trans. BernardGilligan

the theologians of the Middle Ages as well, ranked the words arete, virtus, virtue, among the most exalted in their language. The ancientsregarded it as the highest possible distinction to possess the reputationof being a virtuous man. In their eyes, virtue was the one thing in theworld deserving of the highest praise. Today, however, it is actuallypossible to declare that "the words virtue, virtuous, seem to be disap-pearing from contemporary moral discourse. They hardly ever are em-ployed, except in the case of consecrated phrases, or if they are used, oneappends an explanation which reflects the partial disuse into which theyhave fallen."2

What has happened? Here we have a word that once was valued mosthighly. So little of its value now remains, however, that it is falling intodisuse. Like devalued currency, it no longer possesses even enough valuein our eyes to be kept in use. The definition of virtue, however, spansthe ages. It comes down to us unchanged.

Virtue Is Not a HabitIt is not possible to deal here with the problem of virtue in its entirety.

We can try, however, to "take stock of it," analyze carefully, and correct,if need be, what the definition of virtue means for us.

Virtue is a HABITUS. Translation: a habit? St. Thomas defines virtue as a habitus operative of good. Virtue, then,

is a "habitus." There is a natural tendency to translate this scholasticterm in a modern language by the apparently kindred word, "habit."To avoid the serious drawbacks attendant upon so translating it, itmight seem preferable simply to retain the original word, habitus, Thetendency still remains, even then, however, to understand habitus (andaccordingly virtue) as a habit. Such a tendency is in keeping, of course,with the theory which states that virtue is acquired by repeated acts.According to this theory, repeated acts develop in the soul a deep-rooted,permanent inclination, called a habitus, the nature of which is a sort ofhabit.

This is not an academic problem, to be relegated to the category of a futile scholastic pastime. We shall see how this question of words be-speaks different conceptions of virtue and morality. Depending uponhow we answer the question, we shall either find ourselves caught in a dangerous impasse or being led along the right path toward an authenticconception of virtue, in keeping with the high idea of it entertained bythe ancients.

Virtue would seem to be a habit. The easiest course to follow is to define virtue as a habit. What is a

habit? In ordinary language, habit means an inclination to act always2 Lalande, Vocabulaire technique et critique de la philosophie, article titled, "Vertu."

66 CROSS CURRENTS: WINTER 1962

in a set way.3 It is acquired by repetition of the same actions. Thereafter it results, in turn, in this same repetition, but now with a strength and a permanence proper to itself alone.

At first glance, it may seem that the notion of habit corresponds very well to the "habitus" analyzed by Aristotle and adopted by St. Thomas. As a matter of fact, it is possible, grosso modo, to discover the charac-teristics of habitus also in habit:

1. Habit is a strong, stable disposition "difficile mobilis." A habit can-not be eradicated simply at will. A constant inclination toward the fre-quent performance of a certain action, toward acting always in the same manner, it becomes second nature.

2. Habit makes for facility in acting, to the point where it is not even necessary any longer to pay attention to what one is doing. Obedience to habit is effortless. It is simply a matter of following a natural bent.

8. Habit enables a person to act with a certain amount of joy. It is unpleasant to try to resist its quasi!natural inclination, and pleasant to obey it. One experiences a feeling of frustration if he is unable to fol-low it, and a sense of satisfaction if he can act in conformity with it.

The difficulty: Habit creates an automatism which diminishes the moral tone of an action.

The notion of habit suffers, however, from one serious defect. It en-compasses the idea of automatic activity. This implies the diminution, if not the total exclusion, of reflective consciousness and voluntary deci-sion right at the very beginning. "The term habit ordinarily implies the setting up of a state of mental indifference, and even the gradual sub-stitution of a progressive automatism for consciousness."4 Habit seems to be the mode of automatism peculiar to man. An action performed on the basis of habit does not entail that attentive presence of reason and that personal engagement of free will which give our actions their whole worth and their entire human value. The automatism of habit deprives an action of precisely the thing that gives it its moral dimension, namely, the fact that it proceeds from a reflective decision and a freely consented!to commitment.

If we define virtue by the notion of habit, we are bound to meet with paradoxical failure. Virtue then becomes a factor making for automatism in human action, and to that extent it lessens its moral character. Far

θ We shall ignore the more developed sense of the term, "habit," as it is encoun-tered in the works of certain philosophers and psychologists who criticize its common usage on the ground that there is more in the complex phenomenon called "habit" than is commonly supposed. We prefer to remain with the ordinary meaning of "habit" since it is precisely this meaning that we intend to criticize with respect to its application to virtue. We shall have occasion to note certain characteristic features of the idea which this word denotes in a more precise fashion, however, than is cus-tomary, in order to arrive, by way of dialectic, at a more exact notion of what virtue is.

4 Lalande, Vocabulaire de la philosophie, article titled, "Habitude."

SERVAIS PINCKAERS 67

from contributing to the enhancement of the moral and human value ofaction, it diminishes it to the degree that its own part in the action in-creases. In ancient philosophy and theology, virtue rendered a man good,and his action humanly perfect. To define virtue as a habit, however,would seem necessarily to be making man into a pure automaton, andto be depriving his action of its properly human value.

A repetition of acts, as the cause of moral virtue, also would appear to engender automatism.

The difficulty is reinforced by the narrow conception often entertainedof the repetition of acts which are required for the acquisition of thenatural virtues and their effects. If one is not careful, he may liken thisrepetition to a series of identical material actions tirelessly reproduced.If one gets up at a certain hour in the morning every day for a certainnumber of days in order to get used to it, he will acquire the habit ofbeing an early riser. One awakens and gets up mechanically at the deter-mined hour. The habit of smoking can be developed by smoking fre-quently, the habit of drinking by regularly drinking strong drinks, andthe same for other similar habits.

Since virtue is defined as an inclination toward the doing of the goodactions commanded or permitted by the moral law and the avoiding ofthe evil actions forbidden by the moral law, one may imagine that he canbecome a virtuous man by engendering within himself, through repeti-tion of materially good actions, all the habits or automatisms necessaryfor acting constantly in conformity with the moral law. There wouldscarcely be any further need for reflection. It would hardly be possibleto hesitate about what one should do. By acquiring the virtues, one willhave determined himself to perform good actions practically always. Hewill have destroyed the contrary habits within himself inclining him toevil actions. Thus the virtuous man would appear to be so perfectlyregulated, so profoundly automatized, so solidly geared toward virtue,that any moral problem would seem simply to vanish in his case. Hisfreedom has actually become useless to him. There is really nothing forit to do.

Is this the ideal of moral perfection, however? Does it reside in thishigher type of automatism? In such a conception of the virtuous man, isnot the intervention of free will and personal engagement in action re-duced to the minimum? In the last analysis, is not the virtuous manreally an amoral creature, if, as St. Thomas says, moral value proceedsfrom the will illumined by the intellect?

Virtue, a Power for Spiritual CreationTo extricate ourselves from the impasse into which we have strayed,

we find ourselves constrained to revise our definition of virtue, and todisengage it from the notion of habit as commonly understood.


Virtue is the power of producing action of the best type. St. Thomas defines virtue as a habitus operative of good. What does

this mean? According to Aristotle, from whom St. Thomas borrows this notion, habitus is a disposition that is constant and firm, different from an ordinary disposition, which can readily be changed. Good and bad humor are examples of dispositions in the ordinary sense. An optimistic temperament, one that is inclined always to see the brighter side of things, is a disposition that is constant. It is therefore a kind of habitus. An operative habitus, however, is a constant disposition that is oriented toward action. It is a generator of action. T h e specific characteristic of virtue, however, is its goodness. It is a habitus operative of good. This is the term in the definition that is most in need of clarification. "Good" here does not signify simply anything in conformity with the moral law. In St. Thomas's view, it assumes a much richer value, one that will cause us to change our perspective.

The very general Aristotelian definition of virtue invoked by St. Thomas is so broad that it goes beyond the order of moral action.5

"Virtus cuiuslibet rei determinatur in ultimum in id quod res potest."* The "virtue" of a thing is determined by the maximum which it can produce. In an example supplied by Aristotle, the "virtue" of an athlete is determined on the basis of the best performance he is able to realize. If his performance remains below this maximum, his effort is said to be inferior to his "virtue." Virtue would seem to be the capacity of a power to act to accomplish the maximum of which it is capable. In the case of a runner, his peculiar virtue will be a constant disposition which has developed his natural aptitude for running, to the point of enabling him to make a perfect run in the shortest possible time. T h e virtue will make a good runner of him, one who is able to achieve a record at run-ning. Here "good" receives its full signification. It means perfect, excel-lent. It is used to characterize the maximum performance of an active power.

δ The noun, "virtue," which, in French or English, designates primarily a moral quality, in its Greek and Latin counterparts is employed in other fields, such as the realms of physical prowess, the arts, etc.; in Greek, arete at first signified the excellence of a thing, a human body (its beauty, strength, agility), an animal, a vase, a piece of furniture. Later the word denoted soldierly courage, an excellence proper to a man. It did not acquire its moral sense, namely, moral perfection in action, until Greek philosophy reached the stage of its full development.

In Latin, virtus at first signified the quality of courage as proper to a man (vir) in contrast to a woman. Virtue, in Latin, will also be, above all, strength of character. The term also can mean, however, that which gives a plant or an animal its worth. It can also refer to a man's qualities in a particular field. Cicero speaks, for example, of the "virtutes oratoriae.**

In the present context, the term virtue will be employed sometimes in a broad sense, since etymologically and poetically the use of this term in the realm of material and sensible realities antedates its use in a moral sense.

β Cf. St. Thomas, I, II, Q. 55, a.3; Aristotle, De Coelo, l.lc.ll, 281a, 14!19.

SERVAIS PINCKAERS 6*

What, then, is the correct definition of virtue? It is an active qualitywhich disposes a man to produce the maximum of what he is able to doon the moral plane, which gives to his reason and will conjoined thepower to accomplish the most perfect moral actions, actions, that is, ofthe highest human value. This is in agreement with another Aristoteliandefinition of virtue often quoted by St. Thomas, which states that virtuemakes the one who possesses it good and renders good his work. Virtuepermits a man to perform a perfect moral act and renders the man him-self perfect.

The creative power of virtue surpasses any pure repetition of material acts.

We have come a long way away from defining virtue as an automatichabit. It is necessary, however, to examine the differences between thesetwo conceptions at close range, by taking a better look at what consti-tutes the repetition of acts which everyone agrees is the means for acquir-ing virtue. How harmonize the two statements, first, that virtue isacquired by the repetition of acts and thereupon facilitates further suchrepetition, and then, that virtue is a disposition that enables a power ofaction to perform actions of an excellent character?

To enable ourselves better to appreciate the nature of moral virtue,let us take some concrete examples of human actions selected from therealm of the production by man of external work. The similarity of suchactions to acting morally will permit us to discern better the true natureof moral action. Obviously, we are now employing the term "virtue" ina broad, analogous sense. Take the example of a game. If virtue in anygiven realm is manifested by the successful performance of a perfectaction, which chessplayer will be the one endowed with the "virtue" ofthe game? Will it be the man who has the habit of playing the game,but who, lacking imagination, always repeats the same old movementshe has learned so well? Or will it be the player who shows himselfcapable of inventing new moves to upset his adversary, who is not accus-tomed to expect him to attack in this new way? Undoubtedly, it will bethe second of the two players. And his superiority, or his "virtue," is dis-played in his ability to invent new moves.

Who is endowed with the greater "virtue" in the art of military strat-egy? Is it the experienced old general who carefully employs the tacticsof his own day, tactics to which he has long become habituated, whichsimply require him constantly to repeat the same maneuvers? Or is itthe audacious young general, who, although he is well instructed in hisart, shows himself capable also of imagining a new strategy or of impro-vising an unexpected maneuver that is so new as to take the enemy bysurprise and leave him no chance to defend himself?

The situation is similar in the case of moral virtue. Its task is notachieved simply by scrupulous observance of moral rules, or by exact


accomplishment of material actions commanded by the moral law andrendered very precise by casuistry. Virtue is rather the quality which per-mits the reason and will oí a man to achieve their maximum capacityon the moral plane, and to perform the most perfectly human works,thereby rendering the man himself perfect and allowing him to attainto the fullness of his proper worth. Such perfection, however, is notsomething determined beforehand. It is a personal creation, a sort ofinvention of the one who is acting. This is so much the case that moralvirtue can actually be defined as the capacity to create works that arehumanly perfect on the moral plane. It is thus in his capacity to producefrom within himself and to invent perfect actions that man shows him-self to be the image of God the Creator.7

We have only to reflect upon tne way in which the saints accomplishedtheir highest tasks to see that they were pure creations of virtue. Thetheological work of a Saint Augustine or a Saint Thomas Aquinas, themystical work of a John of the Cross or a Teresa of Avila, the spiritualwork of a Saint Benedict or a Saint Francis de Sales, the charitable worksof a Saint Vincent de Paul or a Don Bosco, the foundations of all thegreat Orders, all appeared in their own day to be innovations, some ofthem very bold ones at that. These men, who at first were in no wisedistinguishable from their contemporaries, found themselves confrontedwith situations that often were of such a compromising character thatmany despaired of salvaging them, while others, of course, did not evenperceive the needs and perils surrounding them. Who, in the fourthcentury, could foresee what the work of St. Augustine would be, andhow great would be its influence? Who, in 1250, could discern what theSumma Theologica of St. Thomas would be? Who could foretell theeventual victory of Aristotelianism, and the success of the theology whichthe Augustinians disdainfully characterized as "novella"? Who, in thesixteenth century, would have thought that a simple woman wouldreform Carmel and would write mystical works of incomparable value?Who would have imagined the Daughters of Charity, uncloistered reli-gious, moving about in the very heart of the most undesirable environ-ments? Who, unless he possessed the creative virtue of a Saint Vincent dePaul? All of these are examples of pure creations of Christian genius, ofChristian virtue. The exterior works, moreover, are nothing but the re-flection of the interior perfection that virtue had produced in these menand their disciples. For moral virtue is in the first place completely

7 In contrasting the creative character of moral virtue with the material fulfillmentof the law, we have no intention of declaring that moral virtue can be led to neglectthe observance of the moral law. On the contrary. It observes it so well, that it goesbeyond the law, as charity does, for example. The law has its role to play, moreover,in the formation of virtue, a role similar to the one played by the rules to be fol-lowed in the arts and professions. It is not relevant to our present purpose, however,to consider the relations existing between the law and moral virtue.


interior. It is the perfection of man according to that spiritual dimensionwhich is peculiar to him. However much it is the source of exteriorworks, it must be called interior. It is impossible to recognize the activityof virtue, however, except through its external appearances or throughpersonal experience. Hence we have had to appeal to external manifesta-tions to bear witness to the creative, originative nature of moral virtue.

The Repetition of "Interior" Acts Is the Principleof Acquisition of Moral Virtues

Moral virtue must be conceived, therefore, as a power of renewal orcreation in the moral realm, that is, on the plane of the properly humanvalue of our actions. This may seem to be pushing the matter to theopposite pole of the classical thesis which holds that virtue is acquiredby repeated acts, itself producing such acts thereafter in turn. A powerto create, after all, is a capacity to perform new acts, never before accom-plished, by breaking with the chain of acts formerly performed. Are wenot forced, therefore, to disagree with St. Thomas, and to abandon theclassical opinion about the formation of the acquired virtues?

The two spheres of human action: interior and exterior. This is in no way true, provided one is willing to revise the material

way in which the repetition of acts is generally understood. What isSt. Thomas' conception of virtuous action? He distinguishes, as he doesin the case of all human acts, two different spheres or levels, the one"interior," and the other "exterior." The interior act proceeds directlyfrom the practical reason and the will, the first principle of every prop-erly human action. The exterior act is the direct work of the otherfaculties, the will making use of them as its instruments. As we say today,one is in the spiritual order and the other is in the corporeal, sensibleor material order.

Let us take as an example an act of the virtue of fortitude, say, facingthe danger of death in battle. The interior act of the intellect has thetask of discovering the right measure to employ, avoiding, on the onehand, the rash and excessive audacity that would precipitate one blindlyinto needless danger, and on the other hand, the cowardice that wouldcause one to take flight. The intellect has to tailor the action to somesort of measure. It estimates the danger without minimizing it, andevaluates its own capacities without exaggerating them to the point ofbeing rash and presumptuous. On the other hand, it does not imagineitself surrounded on all sides by dangers, or like a coward, lose confidencein its own strength. In a word, it sees things exactly as they are. Thewill, working together with the intellect, imposes its mastery upon thesense appetites, both the irascible appetite, which is given quickly toanger, and the concupiscible appetite, which can panic easily through


fear, and upon the powers of the body as well, in order to dispose themfor the service of the virtuous action dictated by the judgment of theintellect. The interior act is the act of measure by the intellect and theact of mastery by the will. The exterior act is the execution of the actionby the sense appetites and the powers of the body as commanded by thewill. One must be careful, however, not to transfer this analytic dich-otomy incorrectly onto the psychological plane. The interior act can, asfar as conscience is concerned, be performed very rapidly and spon-taneously. It is precisely characteristic of virtue to permit an action tobe performed without further need for lengthy reflection, without hesi-tation, and without interior conflict. The interior act can be producedin an instant, because it is spiritual. The exterior act, however, since itinvolves the body, necessarily requires time.

What is it, then, that engenders virtue? Is it formed by repetition ofinterior acts? There can be no doubt about the fact that it is repetitionof the interior acts of intelligent mastery over one's self that will, aboveall, contribute directly to the formation of virtue. How, for example, isthe virtue of fortitude acquired? Is it by always being found in the com-pany of those who want to march against the enemy and court danger?This would sometimes be unreasonable and foolish, however, and actu-ally contrary to the real virtue of fortitude. The virtue of fortitude de-mands rather that one be able at one time vigorously to take the initia-tive against the enemy if the situation requires it, at another time, totemporize if it is impossible to do anything else, and at still anothertime, to remain cool and calm in defeat, in order to derive as muchadvantage as possible from even retreat itself. The virtue of fortitude isacquired, then, by contrary exterior acts, by at one time attacking theenemy and at another time withdrawing. It is impossible to speak inthis connection of a repetition of exterior acts, since advancing andretreating are opposed as contraries. The repetition that is formative ofvirtue is rather on the side of the interior aspects of these acts. It is inthe internal action of the soul which imposes its sway over audacityon the one hand and fear and discouragement on the other, and enablesthe virtue of fortitude to be acquired through repetition of interior actsof direction and control. Fortitude can therefore be defined as themastery of intellect and will over action in the face of danger and death.

Let us take another example. The virtue of discretion inclines us toobserve a just measure in the use of speech. Like fortitude, it is acquiredthrough contrary exterior acts. It often imposes silence upon us. In orderto make a real conquest of this virtue, however, it is not sufficient simplyto multiply victories over the desire to speak. It is also necessary to learnto speak when the situation demands it, and to conquer the timidity andfear one experiences when he has frankly to speak his mind. Discretionis as much opposed to muteness as it is1 to garrulousness. It knows when


to speak and when to remain silent. The virtue of discretion is notacquired by repetition of the same type of exterior acts, but by theinterior acts of mastery over speech which proceed from reason and will.

We have now arrived at a conception of the repetition of acts requiredto form the basis for acquiring virtue that is very different from theidea of a reproduction of a series of identical material actions. Therepetition of interior acts in question is a series of inventions, whichrepresent victories of the intellect and will. Every act emanating fromauthentic virtue is a kind of creation and, in a way, a victory won onthe battlefield of human action. It is an invention in terms of what mustbe done in the concrete and, in the last analysis, unique, particular setof circumstances in which one finds himself. Should I meet the enemyhead on? Is it better to temporize? Is it best, perhaps, to yield my groundand to wait for a more propitious occasion? It also involves inventionwith respect to the manner of acting. There are a hundred differentways to perform the same material action, after all, and it is perhapsthe way a person acts that best distinguishes the personality of a manand most clearly manifests his virtue and his human worth. Should I speak or remain silent? And in what way should I speak? Silence itselfcan have many different meanings. There is a silence which bespeaksan absence of mind and one that betokens careful attention. There isan approving silence and the kind that indicates disapproval. There isthe silence of boredom and the silence that betokens discipline. Thereis the religious silence that is filled with the presence of God. Each actionthat presents itself poses a problem for us and obliges us to invent oursolution. It would constitute an evasion of responsibility, contrary to thetrue nature of virtue, to seek to model our actions on certain ready-madesolutions. Virtue gives us the power to invent and to carry out projectsof action that are morally perfect. It is also by the same moral victorieswhich these projects represent that virtue is itself acquired. In contrastto a repetition of material acts, a repetition of the interior acts of reasonand will in no way contradicts the creative and inventive character ofvirtue. Far from engendering a sterile spiritual automatism or a routineof habit, virtue is rather a factor which makes for the true spiritualiza-tion of human behavior. It enables our spirit to permeate and impreg-nate the energies of our sensible and physical actions. It endows humanconsciousness and the faculty of attention with the power to animateand direct even those elements in man which are the most resistant tothe sway of reason.

The profound difference between habit and virtue is aptly implied inwhat Msgr. Bougaud observes, in his life of Saint Jane Frances deChantal, when he writes, "For thirty years she had had the good fortuneto receive Holy Communion every morning, without this holy actionever ceasing to be a new experience for her each time. It never became


a mere habit with her."8 This puts the finger squarely on the difference.The repetition of a material action engenders a habit, a routine, a cer-tain boredom, which destroy the spiritual value of an action. Virtue, onthe contrary, and particularly virtue of the caliber of that of SaintJane's, far from being diminished by repetition of the same action, isactually nourished by it and makes of it an uninterrupted sequence ofspiritual renewals. Repetition in this case no longer engenders monotony,but newness. Such is the paradoxical nature of the work of authenticvirtue. It is no longer a question of indefinitely beginning over and over again the same material actions, but a question of a surprising series ofvictories of intelligence and good will, giving rise to a continual renewal.

Three characteristic marks of virtue. The difference between the two kinds of repetition of acts is verifiable

by reference to the three characteristics mentioned by St. Thomas asbelonging to habitus and to virtue.

1. Virtue is a constant disposition, "difficile mobilis." The repetitionof the victories of intellect and will over the passions and over externalobstacles, engenders in the soul a mastery which nothing, except a reversal of will, can destroy. A habit that gives birth to a repetition ofstrictly material acts is at bottom more of the corporeal than of thespiritual order. It is a form of psychosomatic determinism. St. Thomasaccords perfect stability and gives the name of habitus in the full senseonly to dispositions of the soul, since dispositions in the somatic orderare dependent upon the relative instability of the corporeal elements.Virtue is ineradicably anchored in the soul, whereas habit can be modi-fied by many causes other than the will, such as sickness, a change ofenvironment, and so on.

2. Virtue produces promptness and facility of action. This is the re-sult of the perfect ordination and unification of the interior principlesof man's action, in accordance with which each element in the wholeplays its natural role. Reason and will direct and command. Sense ap-petite is obedient to them, while at the same time it makes its ownappropriate contribution. The powers of the body execute the desiredaction to perfection. For the action to be performed with ease, it is es-sential that all interior conflict be resolved and that the whole humanorganism act in a harmonious way. Only the repetition of the acts ofintellect and will can produce such interior order as results in actionthat is instant and facile in its performance. The repetition of strictlyexterior acts, on the contrary, risks engendering in the sense appetitesan automatism which the reason and will cannot control, as is the casewith a habit of smoking or of excessive drinking which has been de-veloped to the point that one is no longer able to get rid of it. Habitcreates disorder in a man's principles of action, and renders a moral

8 Msgr. Bougaud, Histoire de sainte Chantal, Paris, 1892, Vol. II, p. 490.


act impossible, in spite of the fact that the inclination to act conform-ably to the habit makes for facility in the performance of the exterioraction.

3. Joy in acting. The overflow of a perfect action, that is, of one fullyin accord with the deepest inclinations of the one who is acting, is a certain joy, adding zest to the action. The repetition of a perfect ac-tion of intellect and will produces the deepest, the most complete andthe truest sort of human joy, since such an action is fully in accordwith the formally personal faculties of man. The repetition of strictlyexterior acts, on the contrary, affords only a superficial, artificial kindof joy. It provides satisfaction for a need artificially created by habit.It results in the sort of joy that is located in the lower zone of man'sprinciples of action, a joy that seldom reverberates on the higher levelsof the soul. As a matter of fact, one can be profoundly unhappy pre-cisely because he is experiencing the sensible joy consequent upon yield-ing to a habit. The one is a triumphant kind of joy, resulting from thecreation of a personal achievement. The other is a passive sort of joy,a simple sensation of pleasure.

How the repetition of "exterior" acts contributes to the acquisition of virtue.

The sharpness with which we have distinguished the repetition of"exterior" acts from that of "interior" acts should not cause us to see too radical an opposition between them, or to lose sight of the factthat in reality these two spheres of human action intimately collabor-ate, in keeping with a certain order, in the development of human ac-tion. This will have to be made very clear. We have sharply distin-guished them for the purpose of getting rid of too material a concep-tion of the way in which virtue is acquired. Such a conception canlead to an impasse, and to a corruption of the idea we have of virtue,by making virtue into an automatism of human action, brought aboutby sheer habit. The conception of repetition that must be rejected isthe one that is concerned with strictly material acts. This kind of repe-tition leads inevitably to the loss of the personal, moral character ofthe human action to be accomplished, since it functions as a determininginfluence. It is appropriate at this point to discuss the union that mustbe effected between these two types of repetition in order that virtuemay result. According to St. Thomas, the exterior acts are in effect theinstruments, so to speak, which are at the disposal of the interior, spir-itual acts. The complete human action, when actually performed, ismade up of a combination of both. It is impossible to acquire the vir-tue of temperance or of fortitude, for example, solely through interioracts, that is, through intellect and will alone. All man's faculties ofaction are required, though they must be set in action by the intellectand the will, and must continue to operate under their aegis. More-


over, the development of virtue by means of a repetition of the actsconformable to it involves exterior acts. It also causes active dispositionsto be developed in the lower faculties, and in the body, which resembleautomatisms. It develops certain active reflexes, which one might betempted to call habits, except for the equivocal character of that term.The good soldier is endowed with reflexes of an offensive and a defen-sive nature which enable him to manipulate his weapons to perfection.The good athlete has his reflexes, his spontaneous ways of acting, whichhe has acquired by dint of exercise, and which make him what he is.In a similar way, the virtuous man also has acquired reflexes of a sort,even in his body and in his sense appetites. He has acquired certainspontaneous reactions which permit him to act to perfection in therealm of moral virtue. They are not, however, pure, unconscious re-flexes, sheer habits, devoid of the action of the intelligence and the will.Quite the contrary. Virtuous reflexes are actually the product of thesetwo spiritual faculties, which have so carefully shaped and so profound-ly impregnated the sense appetites and corporeal faculties themselves,that they have transformed them into perfect servants, spontaneouslycollaborating with them in the task of virtue. It is necessary, therefore,to distinguish two sets of reflexes. There are the pure reflexes or habitswhich, as such, tend to diminish the role played by the spirit in action.But there are also reflexes and habits which, on the contrary, allowconscience and the will to penetrate to the bodily powers themselves inorder to place them at the service of virtuous actions as if it were some-thing natural to them. It is no doubt better, however, not to speak ofreflexes and habits in connection with virtue, since today such termscommonly signify purely psychological and physiological automatisms,operative antecedently to any intervention on the part of conscienceand freedom.

Virtue ¡s Acquired by EducationWe have been employing the expression "repetition of acts" to indi-

cate the manner of acquiring natural virtue without as yet making itsmeaning very precise. As we shall see, it will be necessary to criticizethis expression and eventually to discard it as being somewhat inade-quate. It should be noted in the first place that St. Thomas employsmuch broader expressions than this to designate the mode of acquisi-tion of virtue. He does not speak of an "iteratio actuum" Instead, hestates that virtues are developed "ex multiplicatis actibus," and leavesthe door open for further precisions of the phrase. To speak of a "repe-tition of acts" in explanation of the formation of virtue is actually tointerpret the thought of St. Thomas in a way that is too narrow andthat to a certain degree distorts it.

What is the real point of our criticism? It is this. The term "repe-

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tition" connotes the idea of a series of like acts performed one afteranother in a temporal sequence. Such an idea possesses only a quan-titative dimension. No mention is made of any qualitative variation inthe repeated acts. When it is declared that virtue is acquired throughmultiple acts, however, the intention is to indicate a movement of pro-gression in the qualitative order, a movement beginning in an imper-fect state, with simple, natural, active dispositions, which are not as yetvirtuous, and ending in a perfect state, with a faculty endowed withvirtue. The expression, "repetition of acts," really does not convey thisqualitative progression in any way at all. The reason is that it is con-trary to the idea of a constant doing of the same thing over and over again. Such progression, however, is essential to the movement whichengenders the quality known as virtue. The idea of repetition is apt toinduce error and to lead to a devaluation and a degradation of the con-cept of virtue.

It would seem to be better, therefore, to discard the expression, "repe-tition of acts," and to look for another term with which to designatethe mode of acquisition of virtue. Let us say instead that acquired vir-tues are formed through education. Even this term, however, requiresclarification.

Lalande defines education as a "process which consists in one or sev-eral functions being developed gradually by exercise and made perfect."It is afterwards noted that "education . . . can be brought about eitherby the action of another (this is the original and the most commonunderstanding of the matter) or by the action of the individual him-self who is acquiring it. In the latter instance, the English expression'self-education' sometimes is employed."

Education, therefore, involves a repetition of acts. It is brought aboutthrough exercise. The development of a soldier or of an athlete, whichinvolves education of a sort, calls for many exercises, frequent repeti-tion of the same actions, and prolonged training. Artists, musicians,painters, orators, do not reach the maturity of their talents until theycome to the end of an education which has subjected them to innumer-able exercises. In the same way, education in virtue requires repeatedexercise and training.

The concept of education, however, adds to repetition of identicalexercises the idea of an orderly progression. It includes the notion ofa qualitative orientation directing these exercises toward the final ac-quisition of perfection, that is, toward "virtue" in a particular domainof action. Education actually involves an indissoluble alliance betweenthe intellect, which guides, and the will, which acts and is exercised. Itdoes not consist of a mechanical execution of repeated acts. Nor is itsimply a matter of doctrine, of a science which has action for its object,but which does not actually become involved with concrete action itself.It is simultaneously knowledge directive of action, and action guided


by knowledge. In a word, it is an applied method of action. There aredifferent methods, of course, for developing one's physical powers, orfor making progress in the arts, and some methods are better than oth-ers. A similar situation prevails in the case of virtue. Virtue is acquiredby following certain methods of acting morally, in keeping with differ-ent modes of education, and there will be some methods which are goodand others that are not so good. The best method will be the one thataspires to the highest and richest conception of virtue, while at the sametime it takes carefully into account the strength and the weaknesses,along with the varied possibilities, of the one to be educated. It willbe the one that, for the entire length of time required to make progressin virtue, will set up the most perfect relationship between virtuousideals and the concrete, particular data of action.

Respect for the personality in educating the virtue. It must never be forgotten that it is the subject to be educated who

always must play the principal role in the process of educating to vir-tue. Lalande observes that the original understanding of the word, "edu-cation," views it as resulting from the action of another. Education invirtue, however, must assign the first place to the one who is to beeducated. We have seen that virtue is acquired primarily through theexercise of the interior acts of intellect and will which will insure theirmastery over human action. Such acts, however, are essentially personal.St. Thomas defines a voluntary, a properly human, or a moral actionas one "procedens a principio intrinseco cum cognitione." In modernterms, it can be described as one that proceeds from the person in thelight of his knowledge. This is the original source of all education invirtue. There is no genuine virtue that does not emanate from thissource. An educator is seriously mistaken if he imagines he can substi-tute for the personality of the one whom he is educating. He is mis-taken if he thinks he can inculcate virtue by force. If he allows himselfto be guided, more or less consciously, by the idea of taking advantage ofthe temporary weakness of an embryonic personality to see to it that itcontracts certain virtuous "leanings" or certain good habits, which willbecome so well anchored as to be impossible ever to erase, he wouldstill not have helped generate true virtue in that personality, but onlyautomatism, strict habits. Such habits can be a help to virtue, it is true.They do not become virtuous themselves, however, unless they are as-sumed in a personal way. The educator must realize that the only spherehe can reach directly in another is the sphere of "exterior" acts. Repe-tition of such acts alone, however, simply engenders habitual mechan-isms, if it does not provoke reactions of an antagonistic nature, particu-larly in a refractory personality, in whom disgust for what one wishesto impose upon him increases in the measure that the external pressuregrows stronger and more insistent. Sometimes, of course, the pressure of

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constraint injures the personality or weakens it to the point where itno longer will dare to manifest itself. In that case, however, the moraleducation, so-called, has actually destroyed the base of the edifice it pre-tended to be constructing. It renders the acquisition and developmentof true, interior virtue impossible, because it has drained it at its source.

The task of the educator must be circumscribed within the limits ofthe kind of assistance that favors the emergence, development and matu-ration of the moral personality. The educator, who certainly plays a great role in the formation of virtue, especially in the beginning stages,will have to learn to efface himself little by little, up to the day whenthe one whom he is educating will have acquired enough maturity totake his formation into his own hands and to trace out his path to mor-al perfection by himself. The intelligent educator will not be afraid thatthe achieving of moral autonomy is going to break the bonds unitinghim to his protege. It he has succeeded in his task, their relationshipwill be transformed very naturally into one of friendship. They willenjoy together the higher form of friendship which is becoming to adulthuman beings, who henceforth are equals in pursuit of a life of virtue.

The necessity for the help of another and for discipline. Something should be added, not so much as corrective, but as a com-

plement, to what we have just remarked about the necessity of respect-ing the personality of another in the process of educating him to virtue.In reacting against the past, we run the risk today of tending towardan excess of "personalism." On the pretext of respecting the personalityof another, we are actually feaiful of interfering in his moral formation.We repudiate any appearance of constraint. We condemn all impositionof discipline. We are motivated by the seemingly liberal desire to allowfree rein to the other's natural spontaneity and to place complete con-fidence in his individual personality. Such excellent intentions are ani-mated by a desire to prevent harm. The reverse side of the coin, how-ever, is sometimes a real lack of moral vigor and depth. We abandonthe other person, who is sometimes very young, to his own inexperience.We expose him to the danger of being led astray, of becoming morallydeformed, and of developing an interior life of a very superficial na-ture, one that is subject to the illusions and the constant fluctuations of feelings which have no depth.

It is a fact, which even the best theory cannot gainsay, that we needthe assistance of another in the formation of virtue. This is particularlytrue in the very early stages. Education in virtue calls for a disciplinedlife of the kind that the beginner normally is not capable of imposingupon himself. He is still too short-sighted to recognize the need of itand to appreciate its usefulness. Besides that, he possesses a will thatis too weak to submit to discipline by itself. It is necessary, therefore,for someone else to impose such a discipline on him, a discipline that


will teach him how to act in the right way and how to avoid actionswhich are evil. In this way, through commands and prohibitions,through rewards and, if need be, punishments, virtue is pre-formed inhim by means of authority.

It must be borne in mind, however, that such discipline is to be em-ployed in the formation of virtue only as a temporary means. It mustbe subordinated to the primary goal of education, namely, the maturityof the moral personality of the one who is being formed. Appearancesto the contrary, authority, along with its disciplinary power, is not givento the educator for the purpose of having him impose his own person-ality upon the one whom he is educating. Rightly conceived, it aimsto place itself at the service of the personal development of those whohave been confided to its care.

Education in virtue is a difficult and complicated task. It calls for theexercise of authority and profound respect for those to be educated togo hand in hand. It demands a great deal of intelligence, sensitivity,and a strong will. It must be careful to avoid equally the abuse of au-thority which bullies the personality, suffocates it, or causes it to revolt,and the naive liberality which neglects to give the personality the as-sistance it requires. It calls for a delicate balance, for which only an in-telligent love for the person whom one is educating can find the cor-rect formula.

Conclusion.What are the results of our analysis? Virtue, we have discovered, is

not a habit, formed by the repetition of material acts. It is not somehigher form of psychological automatism, which would actually havethe effect of weakening and destroying the moral and spiritual valueof the human act. Virtue gives man the capacity for invention. I t giveshim the ability to create the best possible human acts in the moralsphere. In contrast to the habit of tedious routine, it is a power forinnovation and renewal. It is formed by repetition of the "interior" orspiritual acts of the intellect and the will, employing the "exterior" actsof man in the corporeal order to attain their ends. It is preferable per-haps to state that virtue is developed by education, through exercise,in accordance with a process of gradual development and methodicalimprovement in the direction of perfection. The education in questionis primarily personal. It does require, especially at the beginning, how-ever, the friendly and intelligent assistance of another, to be a sourceof strength in time of need.

translated by BERNARD GILLIGAN


virtue is not a habit - copy · a "habitus." l o e s scholastic a n y d ,...

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