Why
Strength of Character is Needed
to Lead a Good Life
by Mortimer Adler, Ph.D.
We must now consider the problem the individual
faces when the circumstances of his life are such
that he must take into account the effects of both
good and bad fortune. Before I suggest how this
problem is to be solved, let me clarify its
terms.
By fortune, I mean any aspect of our lives that
is beyond our own control -- the things that happen
to us, the accidents that befall us, for good or
ill. By bad fortune or misfortune, I mean the
accidents or circumstances that are adverse or
unfavorable to making a good life for one's self.
And by good fortune, I mean the opposite -- the
accidents or circumstances that are facilitating or
favorable.
In an earlier chapter, we saw that a life can be
ruined at birth or in infancy or childhood by
extreme misfortunes of one kind or another. What is
true of these early years is also true of the
middle and later years of life. Extreme misfortune
can be ruinous. We also saw that an individual can
be adversely affected -- we sometimes say "spoiled"
-- in his early years by an excess of good fortune.
While this extreme is not likely to be as ruinous
if it occurs later, it is still possible for
excessive good fortune to be a serious impediment,
for it involves highly seductive temptations. The
individual who earns a bare subsistence by work
that is drudgery is sorely tempted to fill the rest
of his hours with diverse forms of sleep and play.
At the other extreme, the individual who is
surrounded by luxuries or who has the means of
obtaining them is also subject to strong
temptations that may have as adverse an effect on
his life as deprivation has on the life of the
unfortunate.
By normal circumstances, then, I mean
circumstances that lie in the middle range between
the extremes of good and bad fortune. By abnormal
circumstances, I mean circumstances that tend
toward either of the two extremes, yet fall short
of the limiting cases that are so extreme that no
individual could be expected to surmount the
obstacles they present.
Here, then, is the problem. If it is hard to
make a good life for one's self under normal
circumstances, and harder still when the
circumstances are abnormal, what resources do we
have within ourselves to cope with the extremes of
good and bad fortune, as long as they are not so
extreme as to be beyond anyone's power to cope with
them?
I do not claim that common sense can offer a
satisfactory solution to this problem. What it does
have to say will certainly be relevant, and may be
satisfactory as far as it goes. If it does not go
far enough, that will be because what it recommends
is easier to understand than to accomplish.
Let me deal with bad fortune first -- the things
that can happen to us which are adverse or
unfavorable to our effort to make a good life for
ourselves. These include such things as protracted
ill-health or disability; the inability to make or
get a decent living through no fault of one's own;
serious personal injuries suffered at the hands of
other men or imposed by organized society as a
whole; the loss of one's friends or loved ones and,
for that reason or any other, loneliness; the
effects upon one's own life of war, or of civil
disorder and violence; and, last but not least, the
effects upon one's self of a culture that, by its
scale of values -- the things it esteems and
disesteems -- is inimical to one's making and
carrying out a plan of life that so orders its
component activities or parts that a good life will
result.
I have omitted from this list the misfortunes of
birth, infancy, and childhood because they occur
before the individual begins to cope with the
problems they create for him -- such things as
deficient schooling, a deficient home environment,
inferior native endowments, and other deprivations.
However, they, too, can and should be considered,
but only with the proviso that they, like the
unfortunate circumstances that may occur in later
years, are not so extreme as to be
insurmountable.
How can the individual cope with bad fortune?
The commonsense answer is, in a word, by strength
of character. The Latin word for this is
fortitudo -- in English, "fortitude." It
simply means having the moral strength or
will-power to overcome adversities of all sorts.
There are two reasons for calling fortitude or
strength of character "moral" rather than
"physical." One's physical strength is, for the
most part, a natural endowment, and although the
individual can, perhaps, enhance it a little, it is
not something he can attain entirely by choice or
effort on his part. In contrast, moral strength
belongs in the sphere of things that can be
acquired by individual initiative and effort. The
second and deeper reason for calling fortitude
*moral strength* lies in the use to which it is
put. It has the moral connotation carried by the
word "virtue" only when the individual exercises
his willpower to overcome obstacles that stand in
the way of his making a good life for himself.
It is conceivable -- more than conceivable, it
is unfortunately only too familiar to us -- that a
man may have the strength to overcome obstacles
that stand in the way of his success, where what he
is aiming at is not a good life, but a bad one -- a
life of crime, a life of ease and idleness, the
life of a playboy, a life filled with luxuries to
the exclusion of other goods, and so on. He would
appear to have the same kind of will-power or
strength of character that is possessed by the man
who, aiming at a good life for himself, is not
deflected from that goal by adversities. If, as a
matter of common sense, we would not consider such
a man virtuous or a man of good moral character,
that is because of the end at which he aims and the
use to which he puts his inner resources when
confronted with obstacles in his way. The
will-power he manifests may look like the strength
of character exercised by the man who is striving
to make a good life for himself, but because it is
not directed to the same end, it does not have the
same moral quality. It is a counterfeit of the
fortitude that is an element of good moral
character or an aspect of virtue.
Whether or not fortitude is indispensable to
making a good life for one's self depends on
whether any human life is ever, during its course,
totally exempt from serious adversities. If not, as
common sense and common experience would testify,
then some degree of fortitude would seem to be a
necessary ingredient in the process, for it to
succeed.
This answer is satisfactory as far as it goes,
but it does not go far enough. Common sense does
not tell us how to develop the degree of fortitude
required for the adversities we may encounter. No
one knows enough about how a good moral character
is formed to be of much help to anyone needing
guidance in this respect -- parents, preceptors, or
the individual himself who, having understood why
fortitude is desirable, seeks to develop it. The
result, of course, is a profoundly unsatisfactory
state of affairs, but no one, to my knowledge, has
found a remedy for it.
Let us turn now to the other side of the
picture, in which we see the individual beset by an
excess of good fortune, an excess that is bad
because of the solicitations and seductions it
engenders -- temptations to make it easy to waste
time, to overindulge in the pleasures of the
passing moment, to luxuriate in extravagances of
all sorts, in short, to have a good time from day
to day rather than make the effort, often difficult
and sometimes painful, to lead a good life. How can
the individual who understands the difference
between a good time and a good life and who makes
the latter, not the former, the goal of his efforts
-- how can such an individual cope with the excess
of goods that fortune sometimes bestows?
The answer common sense offers is the same as
before -- strength of character or will-power. Only
now the relevant aspect of a good moral character
has, in everyday parlance, a different name -- not
fortitude, but temperance or self-control. In
everyday speech, we call a man temperate when he is
able to restrain himself from over-indulgence in
pleasures of one sort or another, or when he can
avoid excess in the acquisition of things that,
while genuinely good, are good only in moderation.
(Thus, it would take a temperate man to turn down
the job that offered a very large income but
involved little or no leisure in the work to be
done.)
Temperance is not asceticism, not in the least.
It does not eschew the pleasures of life; it does
not despise the gratifications of play; it does
seek to pare life down to its bare necessities, so
that all the time left free from obtaining them can
be sedulously devoted to personal betterment. Based
on the common-sense truism that you can often have
too much of a good thing, temperance consists in
the will-power to resist the kind of good fortune
that makes an excess of such goods available. Like
fortitude, it is strength of character, and like
fortitude it is an element of good moral character
or an aspect of virtue only when it is developed
and exercised for the sake of leading a good life,
and for no other reason. As two related aspects of
virtue, both of them giving a man the moral
strength he needs to lead a good life, fortitude
and temperance differ in that the one is a settled
disposition or attitude toward adversities,
difficulties, or pains, and the other is a settled
disposition or attitude toward excesses of the
opposite kind -- toward blessings, facilities, or
pleasures.
The same reason that makes fortitude
indispensable applies in the case of temperance,
though perhaps less obviously because the excesses
of good fortune do not seem to afflict every human
life, as serious adversities do. Yet no human life
is free from the seductions of pleasure or from the
temptation to substitute having a good time for
what is much harder -- leading a good life. As the
Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius
observed, it is difficult but not impossible "to
live well even in a palace."
To this, first of all, must be added the
observation that even apart from the extremes of
good or bad fortune, we need strength of character
-- we need fortitude and temperance -- to carry out
a plan for our whole life, precisely because that
plan requires us always to weigh the interests of
the moment against the interests of our life as a
whole. The temptations of a good time, of pleasure
in the passing moment, are great. It is so easy to
want more wealth than we need. It is so easy to
shirk or wish to avoid the pain and effort involved
in doing leisure-work. What is required to make the
moral choices we ought to make in order to work for
the end we ought to seek -- a whole life that is
really good because it involves all the things that
are really good for a man, all of them in the right
order and proportion -- is moral virtue, which is
nothing but a habitual disposition to prefer a good
life to a good time, to choose what is really good
in the long run over what is apparently good here
and now.
Insofar as all pleasures are things of the
moment, they have an immediacy and vividness of
appeal that give them great force in competition
against the wish to make our whole life good -- a
goal not only remote, but one we can never actually
experience or enjoy as we can the pleasures of the
moment. Even if the circumstances of the
individual's life are normal rather than abnormal,
he still needs the strength of character that is
temperance to forego or limit immediate pleasures
for the sake of a greater though remote and
ineluctable good -- the good of his whole life. On
the other hand, sleep, play, and idling are easy,
while serious leisure-work is hard, and often
painful and fatiguing. Since the plan for a good
life calls for the employment of one's free time in
as much leisure-work as is consonant with having a
reasonable minimum of idling, play, and sleep, the
strength of character that is fortitude is needed
to endure the pains or difficulties that may be
attendant on making a good life instead of just
having a good time from day to day.
A second additional consideration concerns the
bearing of the pathological weaknesses of mind or
character that we call mental illness. Irremediable
organic infirmity or disease can be so disabling as
to constitute an insuperable obstacle to making a
good life; the same is true of incurable mental
illness -- the types of insanity that require
hospitalization and usually receive forms of
treatment that fall short of restoring the patient
to normal life. But those of us who are not so
unfortunate may, nevertheless, be subject to
neurotic disorders that tend to incapacitate us
from making the choices a virtuous man would make.
We may not be able to acquire or exercise the
will-power or self-control that is requisite for
choosing one course of action rather than another
in order to make a good life for ourselves. The
remedy is medical not moral. What is called for is
the recommendation of some form of psychotherapy,
not hortatory remarks about virtue or a good moral
character. Some of us need help to overcome
neurotic tendencies that may prevent us from being
or, at least, make it more difficult for us to
become, masters of our own lives.
But when the medical problem is solved the moral
problem remains. The removal by therapy of an
incapacitation for making the right choices does
not automatically confer the power of making them.
The person who has been cured of a disabling
neurotic disorder is in exactly the same boat as
the rarely fortunate individual who grows up
without being subject to such disabilities. Each
must somehow acquire and exercise virtue --
will-power, self-control strength of character --
to choose what is really good for himself in the
long run as against what is only apparently good
from day to day.
In the third place, it must be added that the
inner resources required by the individual for
making a good life for himself include more than
strength of character -- more than temperance and
fortitude. Common sense recognizes the
indispensability of another power or disposition --
usually called "sound judgment" and sometimes
"prudence." This is a disposition of mind rather
than of character. Action always takes place under
particular circumstances, and insofar as it is
voluntary and involves choice, the relative merits
of particular alternatives must be judged -- judged
not only for their immediate value but also for
their value in the long run of a whole life. Sound
judgment is required for weighing the merits of
competing alternatives not only in terms of what
they offer in the way of gratification here and now
but also in terms of long-range consequence as
against present gratifications.
Finally, let it be said, as emphatically as
possible, that these dispositions of character and
of mind, which are virtuous insofar as they are
employed in making a good life, cannot be
formulated in rules or guidelines for action. If
the exercise of virtue consisted in putting a set
of rules into practice, then virtue could be taught
and learned, as any art can be taught and learned
by putting its rules into practice. But that, as we
have seen, is not the case. In this most
fundamental respect, making a good life for one's
self is radically unlike all the arts, in which
rules can be formulated to guide the practitioner.
Not so in the business of living. A plan is needed,
yes, and that is the point of resemblance between
making a good life and turning out a good work of
art; but there the resemblance ends, for in the
arts there are rules of technique and procedure for
carrying out the plan, whereas in making a good
life, the virtue requisite for carrying out one's
plan takes the place of rules.
(This essay is taken from The Time of Our
Lives: The Ethics of Common Sense, Chapter
7.)