Virtue Ethics

In 1958, philosopher Elizabeth Anscombe published "Modern Moral Philosophy," essentially declaring Kantian and utilitarian ethics bankrupt without a theological foundation. She argued we should abandon terms like "morally ought" and return to Aristotle's focus on virtues and human flourishing. This single paper sparked a revolution, making virtue ethics intellectually respectable again after two centuries of dormancy and transforming how philosophers approach moral questions.

Unlike rule-based ethics that ask "What should I do?", virtue ethics asks "What kind of person should I be?" This shift means moral development becomes more like learning to play jazz than memorizing traffic laws—it's about cultivating practical wisdom through experience, not just following universal principles. Studies show professionals who frame ethics through character rather than rules report less moral distress and greater job satisfaction, suggesting virtue frameworks may actually be more sustainable for real-world decision-making.

Medical schools increasingly teach virtue ethics because the "what would you do?" scenarios of deontology and utilitarianism fail to capture the reality of bedside manner, compassion fatigue, and the doctor-patient relationship. The question shifts from "Did you follow protocol?" to "Are you developing into a trustworthy, compassionate healer?" This approach better addresses why two doctors following identical rules can produce vastly different patient outcomes—character shows up in the micro-moments rules can't reach.

Aristotle claimed the virtues form a unified whole—you can't truly have courage without wisdom, or justice without compassion. Modern psychology challenges this: couldn't someone be genuinely honest but cowardly, or brave but unjust? This "unity of virtues" debate has fascinating implications for moral education and whether we should cultivate specific virtues individually or treat character as an indivisible package that develops holistically.

The Greek term eudaimonia, often mistranslated as "happiness," actually means something closer to "flourishing" or "living well as a human being." This matters enormously: virtue ethics isn't about feeling good (you might be virtuous while suffering), but about actualizing your potential as a rational, social being. Olympic athletes training through pain, artists sacrificing comfort for their craft, and activists enduring hardship for justice all embody eudaimonia without necessarily being "happy" in the modern sense.

Social psychology experiments like the Good Samaritan study (where seminary students rushed past someone in distress when late) suggest character traits may be less stable than virtue ethics assumes. If situations overwhelm dispositions, does character even exist? Virtue ethicists counter that these studies actually support their view—untrained, unreflective people do act inconsistently, which is precisely why we need rigorous moral education and practice to build genuine virtue that persists across contexts, much like an athlete's trained responses.