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Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Ethics

A >> Aristotle >> Ethics

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And by possible I mean what may be done through our own instrumentality
(of course what may be done through our friends is through our own
instrumentality in a certain sense, because the origination in such
cases rests with us). And the object of search is sometimes the
necessary instruments, sometimes the method of using them; and similarly
in the rest sometimes through what, and sometimes how or through what.

So it seems, as has been said, that Man is the originator of his
actions; and Deliberation has for its object whatever may be done
through one's own instrumentality, and the actions are with a view to
other things; and so it is, not the End, but the Means to Ends on which
Deliberation is employed.

[Sidenote: III3a]

Nor, again, is it employed on matters of detail, as whether the
substance before me is bread, or has been properly cooked; for these
come under the province of sense, and if a man is to be always
deliberating, he may go on _ad infinitum_.

Further, exactly the same matter is the object both of Deliberation
and Moral Choice; but that which is the object of Moral Choice is
thenceforward separated off and definite, because by object of Moral
Choice is denoted that which after Deliberation has been preferred to
something else: for each man leaves off searching how he shall do a
thing when he has brought the origination up to himself, _i.e_. to the
governing principle in himself, because it is this which makes the
choice. A good illustration of this is furnished by the old regal
constitutions which Homer drew from, in which the Kings would announce
to the commonalty what they had determined before.

Now since that which is the object of Moral Choice is something in our
own power, which is the object of deliberation and the grasping of the
Will, Moral Choice must be "a grasping after something in our own power
consequent upon Deliberation:" because after having deliberated we
decide, and then grasp by our Will in accordance with the result of our
deliberation.

Let this be accepted as a sketch of the nature and object of Moral
Choice, that object being "Means to Ends."

[Sidenote: IV] That Wish has for its object-matter the End, has been
already stated; but there are two opinions respecting it; some thinking
that its object is real good, others whatever impresses the mind with a
notion of good.

Now those who maintain that the object of Wish is real good are beset by
this difficulty, that what is wished for by him who chooses wrongly is
not really an object of Wish (because, on their theory, if it is an
object of wish, it must be good, but it is, in the case supposed, evil).
Those who maintain, on the contrary, that that which impresses the mind
with a notion of good is properly the object of Wish, have to meet this
difficulty, that there is nothing naturally an object of Wish but to
each individual whatever seems good to him; now different people have
different notions, and it may chance contrary ones.

But, if these opinions do not satisfy us, may we not say that,
abstractedly and as a matter of objective truth, the really good is the
object of Wish, but to each individual whatever impresses his mind with
the notion of good. And so to the good man that is an object of Wish
which is really and truly so, but to the bad man anything may be; just
as physically those things are wholesome to the healthy which are really
so, but other things to the sick. And so too of bitter and sweet, and
hot and heavy, and so on. For the good man judges in every instance
correctly, and in every instance the notion conveyed to his mind is the
true one.

For there are fair and pleasant things peculiar to, and so varying with,
each state; and perhaps the most distinguishing characteristic of the
good man is his seeing the truth in every instance, he being, in fact,
the rule and measure of these matters.

The multitude of men seem to be deceived by reason of pleasure, because
though it is not really a good it impresses their minds with the notion
of goodness, so they choose what is pleasant as good and avoid pain as
an evil.

Now since the End is the object of Wish, and the means to the End of
Deliberation and Moral Choice, the actions regarding these matters
must be in the way of Moral Choice, _i.e._ voluntary: but the acts of
working out the virtues are such actions, and therefore Virtue is in our
power.

And so too is Vice: because wherever it is in our power to do it is also
in our power to forbear doing, and _vice versa_: therefore if the doing
(being in a given case creditable) is in our power, so too is the
forbearing (which is in the same case discreditable), and _vice versa_.

But if it is in our power to do and to forbear doing what is creditable
or the contrary, and these respectively constitute the being good or
bad, then the being good or vicious characters is in our power.

As for the well-known saying, "No man voluntarily is wicked or
involuntarily happy," it is partly true, partly false; for no man is
happy against his will, of course, but wickedness is voluntary. Or must
we dispute the statements lately made, and not say that Man is the
originator or generator of his actions as much as of his children?

But if this is matter of plain manifest fact, and we cannot refer our
actions to any other originations beside those in our own power, those
things must be in our own power, and so voluntary, the originations of
which are in ourselves.

Moreover, testimony seems to be borne to these positions both privately
by individuals, and by law-givers too, in that they chastise and punish
those who do wrong (unless they do so on compulsion, or by reason of
ignorance which is not self-caused), while they honour those who act
rightly, under the notion of being likely to encourage the latter and
restrain the former. But such things as are not in our own power, _i.e._
not voluntary, no one thinks of encouraging us to do, knowing it to be
of no avail for one to have been persuaded not to be hot (for instance),
or feel pain, or be hungry, and so forth, because we shall have those
sensations all the same.

And what makes the case stronger is this: that they chastise for the
very fact of ignorance, when it is thought to be self-caused; to the
drunken, for instance, penalties are double, because the origination in
such case lies in a man's own self: for he might have helped getting
drunk, and this is the cause of his ignorance.

[Sidenote: III4_a_] Again, those also who are ignorant of legal
regulations which they are bound to know, and which are not hard to
know, they chastise; and similarly in all other cases where neglect is
thought to be the cause of the ignorance, under the notion that it was
in their power to prevent their ignorance, because they might have paid
attention.

But perhaps a man is of such a character that he cannot attend to such
things: still men are themselves the causes of having become such
characters by living carelessly, and also of being unjust or destitute
of self-control, the former by doing evil actions, the latter by
spending their time in drinking and such-like; because the particular
acts of working form corresponding characters, as is shown by those who
are practising for any contest or particular course of action, for such
men persevere in the acts of working.

As for the plea, that a man did not know that habits are produced
from separate acts of working, we reply, such ignorance is a mark of
excessive stupidity.

Furthermore, it is wholly irrelevant to say that the man who acts
unjustly or dissolutely does not _wish_ to attain the habits of these
vices: for if a man wittingly does those things whereby he must become
unjust he is to all intents and purposes unjust voluntarily; but he
cannot with a wish cease to be unjust and become just. For, to take the
analogous case, the sick man cannot with a wish be well again, yet in
a supposable case he is voluntarily ill because he has produced his
sickness by living intemperately and disregarding his physicians. There
was a time then when he might have helped being ill, but now he has let
himself go he cannot any longer; just as he who has let a stone out of
his hand cannot recall it, and yet it rested with him to aim and throw
it, because the origination was in his power. Just so the unjust man,
and he who has lost all self-control, might originally have helped being
what they are, and so they are voluntarily what they are; but now that
they are become so they no longer have the power of being otherwise.

And not only are mental diseases voluntary, but the bodily are so in
some men, whom we accordingly blame: for such as are naturally deformed
no one blames, only such as are so by reason of want of exercise, and
neglect: and so too of weakness and maiming: no one would think of
upbraiding, but would rather compassionate, a man who is blind by
nature, or from disease, or from an accident; but every one would blame
him who was so from excess of wine, or any other kind of intemperance.
It seems, then, that in respect of bodily diseases, those which depend
on ourselves are censured, those which do not are not censured; and if
so, then in the case of the mental disorders, those which are censured
must depend upon ourselves.

[Sidenote: III4_b_] But suppose a man to say, "that (by our own
admission) all men aim at that which conveys to their minds an
impression of good, and that men have no control over this impression,
but that the End impresses each with a notion correspondent to his own
individual character; that to be sure if each man is in a way the cause
of his own moral state, so he will be also of the kind of impression he
receives: whereas, if this is not so, no one is the cause to himself of
doing evil actions, but he does them by reason of ignorance of the true
End, supposing that through their means he will secure the chief good.
Further, that this aiming at the End is no matter of one's own choice,
but one must be born with a power of mental vision, so to speak, whereby
to judge fairly and choose that which is really good; and he is blessed
by nature who has this naturally well: because it is the most important
thing and the fairest, and what a man cannot get or learn from another
but will have such as nature has given it; and for this to be so given
well and fairly would be excellence of nature in the highest and truest
sense."

If all this be true, how will Virtue be a whit more voluntary than Vice?
Alike to the good man and the bad, the End gives its impression and is
fixed by nature or howsoever you like to say, and they act so and so,
referring everything else to this End.

Whether then we suppose that the End impresses each man's mind with
certain notions not merely by nature, but that there is somewhat also
dependent on himself; or that the End is given by nature, and yet Virtue
is voluntary because the good man does all the rest voluntarily, Vice
must be equally so; because his own agency equally attaches to the bad
man in the actions, even if not in the selection of the End.

If then, as is commonly said, the Virtues are voluntary (because we at
least co-operate in producing our moral states, and we assume the End
to be of a certain kind according as we are ourselves of certain
characters), the Vices must be voluntary also, because the cases are
exactly similar.

Well now, we have stated generally respecting the Moral Virtues, the
genus (in outline), that they are mean states, and that they are habits,
and how they are formed, and that they are of themselves calculated to
act upon the circumstances out of which they were formed, and that they
are in our own power and voluntary, and are to be done so as right
Reason may direct.

[Sidenote: III5_a_] But the particular actions and the habits are not
voluntary in the same sense; for of the actions we are masters from
beginning to end (supposing of course a knowledge of the particular
details), but only of the origination of the habits, the addition by
small particular accessions not being cognisiable (as is the case with
sicknesses): still they are voluntary because it rested with us to use
our circumstances this way or that.

Here we will resume the particular discussion of the Moral Virtues,
and say what they are, what is their object-matter, and how they stand
respectively related to it: of course their number will be thereby
shown. First, then, of Courage. Now that it is a mean state, in respect
of fear and boldness, has been already said: further, the objects of our
fears are obviously things fearful or, in a general way of statement,
evils; which accounts for the common definition of fear, viz.
"expectation of evil."

Of course we fear evils of all kinds: disgrace, for instance, poverty,
disease, desolateness, death; but not all these seem to be the
object-matter of the Brave man, because there are things which to fear
is right and noble, and not to fear is base; disgrace, for example,
since he who fears this is a good man and has a sense of honour, and he
who does not fear it is shameless (though there are those who call him
Brave by analogy, because he somewhat resembles the Brave man who agrees
with him in being free from fear); but poverty, perhaps, or disease, and
in fact whatever does not proceed from viciousness, nor is attributable
to his own fault, a man ought not to fear: still, being fearless in
respect of these would not constitute a man Brave in the proper sense of
the term.

Yet we do apply the term in right of the similarity of the cases; for
there are men who, though timid in the dangers of war, are liberal men
and are stout enough to face loss of wealth.

And, again, a man is not a coward for fearing insult to his wife or
children, or envy, or any such thing; nor is he a Brave man for being
bold when going to be scourged.

What kind of fearful things then do constitute the object-matter of the
Brave man? first of all, must they not be the greatest, since no man is
more apt to withstand what is dreadful. Now the object of the greatest
dread is death, because it is the end of all things, and the dead man is
thought to be capable neither of good nor evil. Still it would seem
that the Brave man has not for his object-matter even death in every
circumstance; on the sea, for example, or in sickness: in what
circumstances then? must it not be in the most honourable? now such is
death in war, because it is death in the greatest and most honourable
danger; and this is confirmed by the honours awarded in communities, and
by monarchs.

He then may be most properly denominated Brave who is fearless in
respect of honourable death and such sudden emergencies as threaten
death; now such specially are those which arise in the course of war.

[Sidenote: 1115b] It is not meant but that the Brave man will be
fearless also on the sea (and in sickness), but not in the same way as
sea-faring men; for these are light-hearted and hopeful by reason of
their experience, while landsmen though Brave are apt to give themselves
up for lost and shudder at the notion of such a death: to which it
should be added that Courage is exerted in circumstances which admit
of doing something to help one's self, or in which death would be
honourable; now neither of these requisites attach to destruction by
drowning or sickness.



VII


Again, fearful is a term of relation, the same thing not being so to
all, and there is according to common parlance somewhat so fearful as to
be beyond human endurance: this of course would be fearful to every
man of sense, but those objects which are level to the capacity of
man differ in magnitude and admit of degrees, so too the objects of
confidence or boldness.

Now the Brave man cannot be frighted from his propriety (but of course
only so far as he is man); fear such things indeed he will, but he will
stand up against them as he ought and as right reason may direct, with a
view to what is honourable, because this is the end of the virtue.

Now it is possible to fear these things too much, or too little, or
again to fear what is not really fearful as if it were such. So the
errors come to be either that a man fears when he ought not to fear at
all, or that he fears in an improper way, or at a wrong time, and so
forth; and so too in respect of things inspiring confidence. He is
Brave then who withstands, and fears, and is bold, in respect of right
objects, from a right motive, in right manner, and at right times:
since the Brave man suffers or acts as he ought and as right reason may
direct.

Now the end of every separate act of working is that which accords
with the habit, and so to the Brave man Courage; which is honourable;
therefore such is also the End, since the character of each is
determined by the End.

So honour is the motive from which the Brave man withstands things
fearful and performs the acts which accord with Courage.

Of the characters on the side of Excess, he who exceeds in utter absence
of fear has no appropriate name (I observed before that many states have
none), but he would be a madman or inaccessible to pain if he feared
nothing, neither earthquake, nor the billows, as they tell of the Celts.

He again who exceeds in confidence in respect of things fearful is rash.
He is thought moreover to be a braggart, and to advance unfounded claims
to the character of Brave: the relation which the Brave man really bears
to objects of fear this man wishes to appear to bear, and so imitates
him in whatever points he can; for this reason most of them exhibit a
curious mixture of rashness and cowardice; because, affecting rashness
in these circumstances, they do not withstand what is truly fearful.

[Sidenote: III6_a_] The man moreover who exceeds in feeling fear is a
coward, since there attach to him the circumstances of fearing wrong
objects, in wrong ways, and so forth. He is deficient also in feeling
confidence, but he is most clearly seen as exceeding in the case of
pains; he is a fainthearted kind of man, for he fears all things: the
Brave man is just the contrary, for boldness is the property of the
light-hearted and hopeful.

So the coward, the rash, and the Brave man have exactly the same
object-matter, but stand differently related to it: the two
first-mentioned respectively exceed and are deficient, the last is in a
mean state and as he ought to be. The rash again are precipitate, and,
being eager before danger, when actually in it fall away, while the
Brave are quick and sharp in action, but before are quiet and composed.

Well then, as has been said, Courage is a mean state in respect of
objects inspiring boldness or fear, in the circumstances which have been
stated, and the Brave man chooses his line and withstands danger either
because to do so is honourable, or because not to do so is base. But
dying to escape from poverty, or the pangs of love, or anything that is
simply painful, is the act not of a Brave man but of a coward; because
it is mere softness to fly from what is toilsome, and the suicide braves
the terrors of death not because it is honourable but to get out of the
reach of evil.


VIII

Courage proper is somewhat of the kind I have described, but there are
dispositions, differing in five ways, which also bear in common parlance
the name of Courage.

We will take first that which bears most resemblance to the true, the
Courage of Citizenship, so named because the motives which are thought
to actuate the members of a community in braving danger are the
penalties and disgrace held out by the laws to cowardice, and the
dignities conferred on the Brave; which is thought to be the reason
why those are the bravest people among whom cowards are visited with
disgrace and the Brave held in honour.

Such is the kind of Courage Homer exhibits in his characters; Diomed and
Hector for example. The latter says,

"Polydamas will be the first to fix
Disgrace upon me."

Diomed again,

"For Hector surely will hereafter say,
Speaking in Troy, Tydides by my hand"--

This I say most nearly resembles the Courage before spoken of, because
it arises from virtue, from a feeling of shame, and a desire of what is
noble (that is, of honour), and avoidance of disgrace which is base. In
the same rank one would be inclined to place those also who act under
compulsion from their commanders; yet are they really lower, because not
a sense of honour but fear is the motive from which they act, and what
they seek to avoid is not that which is base but that which is simply
painful: commanders do in fact compel their men sometimes, as Hector
says (to quote Homer again),

"But whomsoever I shall find cowering afar from the fight,
The teeth of dogs he shall by no means escape."

[Sidenote: III6_h_] Those commanders who station staunch troops by
doubtful ones, or who beat their men if they flinch, or who draw their
troops up in line with the trenches, or other similar obstacles,
in their rear, do in effect the same as Hector, for they all use
compulsion.

But a man is to be Brave, not on compulsion, but from a sense of honour.

In the next place, Experience and Skill in the various particulars is
thought to be a species of Courage: whence Socrates also thought that
Courage was knowledge.

This quality is exhibited of course by different men under different
circumstances, but in warlike matters, with which we are now concerned,
it is exhibited by the soldiers ("the regulars"): for there are, it
would seem, many things in war of no real importance which these have
been constantly used to see; so they have a show of Courage because
other people are not aware of the real nature of these things. Then
again by reason of their skill they are better able than any others to
inflict without suffering themselves, because they are able to use their
arms and have such as are most serviceable both with a view to offence
and defence: so that their case is parallel to that of armed men
fighting with unarmed or trained athletes with amateurs, since in
contests of this kind those are the best fighters, not who are the
bravest men, but who are the strongest and are in the best condition.

In fact, the regular troops come to be cowards whenever the danger is
greater than their means of meeting it; supposing, for example, that
they are inferior in numbers and resources: then they are the first to
fly, but the mere militia stand and fall on the ground (which as you
know really happened at the Hermaeum), for in the eyes of these flight
was disgraceful and death preferable to safety bought at such a price:
while "the regulars" originally went into the danger under a notion
of their own superiority, but on discovering their error they took to
flight, having greater fear of death than of disgrace; but this is not
the feeling of the Brave man.

Thirdly, mere Animal Spirit is sometimes brought under the term Courage:
they are thought to be Brave who are carried on by mere Animal Spirit,
as are wild beasts against those who have wounded them, because in fact
the really Brave have much Spirit, there being nothing like it for going
at danger of any kind; whence those frequent expressions in Homer,
"infused strength into his spirit," "roused his strength and spirit," or
again, "and keen strength in his nostrils," "his blood boiled:" for all
these seem to denote the arousing and impetuosity of the Animal Spirit.

[Sidenote: III7_a_] Now they that are truly Brave act from a sense of
honour, and this Animal Spirit co-operates with them; but wild beasts
from pain, that is because they have been wounded, or are frightened;
since if they are quietly in their own haunts, forest or marsh, they do
not attack men. Surely they are not Brave because they rush into danger
when goaded on by pain and mere Spirit, without any view of the danger:
else would asses be Brave when they are hungry, for though beaten they
will not then leave their pasture: profligate men besides do many bold
actions by reason of their lust. We may conclude then that they are not
Brave who are goaded on to meet danger by pain and mere Spirit; but
still this temper which arises from Animal Spirit appears to be most
natural, and would be Courage of the true kind if it could have added
to it moral choice and the proper motive. So men also are pained by a
feeling of anger, and take pleasure in revenge; but they who fight from
these causes may be good fighters, but they are not truly Brave (in
that they do not act from a sense of honour, nor as reason directs, but
merely from the present feeling), still they bear some resemblance to
that character.

Nor, again, are the Sanguine and Hopeful therefore Brave: since their
boldness in dangers arises from their frequent victories over numerous
foes. The two characters are alike, however, in that both are confident;
but then the Brave are so from the afore-mentioned causes, whereas these
are so from a settled conviction of their being superior and not likely
to suffer anything in return (they who are intoxicated do much the
same, for they become hopeful when in that state); but when the event
disappoints their expectations they run away: now it was said to be the
character of a Brave man to withstand things which are fearful to man
or produce that impression, because it is honourable so to do and the
contrary is dishonourable.

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