Aristotle was born around 384 BC in the ancient Greek kingdom of Macedonia where his father was the

royal doctor. He grew up to be arguably the most influential philosopher ever, with modest nicknames
like ‘the master’ and simply ‘the philosopher’. His first big job was tutoring Alexander the Great who,
soon after, went out and conquered the known world. Aristotle then headed off to Athens, worked with
Plato for a bit, then branched out on his own. He founded a little school called the Lyceum. French
secondary schools - ‘the lycees’ - are named in honour of this venture. He liked to walk about while
teaching and discussing ideas. His followers were nicknamed ‘peripatetics’ - ‘the wanderers.’ His many
books are actually lecture notes Aristotle was fascinated by how many things actually work: how does a
chick grow in an egg? How do squid reproduce? Why does a plant grow well in one place and hardly at
all in another? And - most importantly - what makes a human life, and a whole society, go well? For
Aristotle, philosophy was about practical wisdom. Here are four big philosophical questions he
answered. One : what makes people happy? In the ‘Nicomachean’ ethics (the book got it’s name
because it was edited by his son, Nicomachus) Aristotle set himself the task of identifying the factors
that lead people to have a good life - or not. He suggested that good and successful people all possess
distinct ‘virtues’ - and proposed that we should get better at identifying what these are, so that we can
nurture them in ourselves and honour them in others. Aristotle zeroed in on 11 virtues Courage
Temperance Liberality Magnificence Magnanimity Pride Patience Truthfulness Wittiness Friendliness
Modesty. Aristotle also observed that every virtue seems to be bang in the middle of two vices. It
occupies what he termed ‘the golden mean’ [a perfectly balanced plank on triangle] between two
extremes of character. For example, in Book IV of his Ethics, under the charming title of ‘Conversational
Virtues: wit, buffoonery and boorishness’, Aristotle looks at ways people are better or worse at
conversation. (knowing how to have a good conversation is one of the ingredients of the good life,
Aristotle recognised). Some people go wrong because they lack a subtle sense of humour: that’s the
“boor”, someone “useless for any kind of social intercourse, because he contributes nothing and takes
offence at everything.’ But others carry humour to excess: ‘The buffoon cannot resist a joke, sparing
neither himself, nor anybody else provided that he can raise a laugh, and saying things that a man of
taste would never dream of saying.’ So the ‘virtuous’ person is in the golden mean in this area: witty, but
tactful. A particularly fascinating moment is when Aristotle draws up a table of ‘too little’ ‘too much’ and
‘just right’ around the whole host of virtues. We can’t change our behaviour in any of these areas just at
the drop of a hat. But change is possible, eventually. ‘Moral goodness’ says Aristotle ‘ is the result of
habit’. It takes times, practice, encouragement. So, Aristotle thinks, people who lack virtue should be
understood as unfortunate rather than wicked. What they need is not scolding or being thrown in prison
but better teachers, more guidance. Two: what is art for? The blockbuster art at that time was tragedy.
Athenians watched gory plays at community festivals in huge open air theatres. Aeschylus, Euripides and
Sophocles were household names. Aristotle wrote a ‘how to write great plays’ manual: the Poetics. It’s
packed with great tips. For example, make sure to use: peripeteia - a change in fortune, when for the
hero things go from great to awful [in Titanic, Leonardo de Caprio gets Kate Winslow (great) then they
hit the iceberg (awful) and anagnoresis - a moment of dramatic revelation when suddenly the hero
works out their life is a catastrophe. But what is tragedy actually for? What is the point of a whole
community coming together to watch horrible things happening to the lead characters? Like Oedipus (in
the play by Sophocles) who by accident, kills his father, gets married to his mother, finds out he’s done
these things [on screen: anagnoresis!) and gouges out his own eyes in remorse and despair. Aristotle’s
answer is Katharis - which is greek for … Catharsis. Catharsis is a kind of cleaning - you get rid of bad
stuff. In this case cleaning up our emotions, specifically our confusions around the feelings of fear and
pity. We’ve got natural problems here: we are hard hearted: we don’t give pity where it is deserved. And
we’re prone to either exaggerated fears or not getting frightened enough Tragedy reminds us that:
terrible things can befall decent people including ourselves): a small flaw can lead to a whole life
unravelling and so we should have more compassion (or pity) for those whose actions go disastrously
wrong. We need to be collective re-taught these crucial truths on a regular basis. The task of art - as
Aristotle saw it - is to make profound truths about life stick in our minds. Three: What are friends for? In
books eight and nine of the Nicomachean Ethics Aristotle identifies three different kinds of friendship.
There’s friendship that comes about when each person is seeking fun; their ‘chief interest is in their own
pleasure and the opportunity of the moment’ which the other person provides. We need other people
to have a nice time around. We need pleasant companions. [on screen, beer drinking festival] Then
there are friendships that are really strategic acquaintances: ‘they take pleasure in each other’s
company only in so far as they have hopes of advantage of it.’ [on screen: faux-jovial business meeting]
Then there’s the true friend: Not someone who’s just like you. But someone who isn’t you - but about
whom you care as much as you are about yourself. The sorrows of a true friend are your sorrows

to, their joys are yours. It makes you more vulnerable - should anything befall this person. But it is
hugely strengthening: you are relieved from the too small orbit of your own thoughts and worries, you
expand into the life of another, together you become larger, cleverer, more resilient, more fair minded.
You share virtues and cancel out each other’s defects. Friendship teaches us what we ought to be. It is -
quite literally - the best part of life. Four: how can ideas cut through in a busy world? Like a lot of people,
Aristotle was struck by the fact that the best argument doesn’t always win the debate or the battle. He
wanted to know why this happens and what we can do about it. He had lots of opportunity for
observations: in Athens lots of decisions were made in public meetings (often in the Agora - the town
square); orators would vie with one another to sway popular opinion. Aristotle plotted the ways
audiences and individuals are influenced by many factors that don’t strictly engage with logic or the
facts of the case. It’s maddening. And many serious people [especially Plato] can’t stand it. They avoid
the marketplace and populist debate. Aristotle was more ambitious. He invented the art of what we still
today call Rhetoric: the art of getting people to agree with you. He wanted thoughtful, serious and well-
intentioned people to learn how to be persuasive - to reach those who don’t agree already. He makes
some timeless points: You have to recognise, acknowledge and sooth people’s fears. You have to see the
emotional side of the issue - is someone’s pride on the line, are they feeling embarrassed - and edge
round it accordingly. You have to make it funny - because attention spans are short. And you might have
to use illustrations and examples to make your point come alive. We’re keen students of Aristotle. Today
‘Philosophy’ doesn’t sound like the most practical activity. Maybe that’s because we’ve not paid enough
attention, recently, to Aristotle.