The orphaned virtue of humility

Humility occupies an anomalous position in contemporary society and virtue ethics, to the point that there is some doubt over whether it should be regarded as a virtue at all.The attrib­utes that are often associated with humility, such as being low, deferential, and submissive, are rarely considered praiseworthy and go against the grain of a world in which it is proclaimed that we can be whatever we want to be.

The effects of these dire connotations are compounded by the lack of a wholly satisfactory account of humility within many influential accounts of virtue ethics. Humility is notoriously absent from Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, which MacIntyre has described as the canonical text of the Western tradition of virtue ethics,¹ and it has proved difficult to retrofit humility into an Aristotelian framework as a mean between two vicious extremes. After all, in what sense is humility a virtuous mean, given that humility conveys the sense of an extravagance of self-giving or self-emptying? And the notion of a disposition to self-giving or self-emptying raises the additional question of how humility is conducive to the fullness and completion associated with human flourishing, the traditional goal of the most influential kinds of virtue ethics. But it is also challenging to see how humility fits in with most alternative approaches to virtue ethics, such as agent-based, exemplarist, or target-centred accounts.

One partial exception to the orphaning of humility might be virtue ethics in the Platonic tradition, insofar as this tradition emphasizes the way in which good agency presupposes the contemplation of the Form of the Good.² Given the focus on a relationship to that which is supremely good, humility in relation to this supreme good might then be regarded as a disposi­tion that is proper to human perfection. For this reason, it should not come as a surprise that one of the few classical references to humility is not to be found in the Aristotlelian corpus but in the following passage from Plato’s Laws IV, 716a-b, a text that can also be found in citations by Christian authors in the early patristic era³:

Athenian. Now, then, our address should go like this: ‘Men, according to the ancient story, there is a god who holds in his hands the beginning and end and middle of all things, and straight he marches in the cycle of nature. Justice, who takes vengeance on those who abandon the divine law, never leaves his side. The man who means to live in happiness latches on to her and follows her with meekness and humility (tapeinotes). But he who bursts with pride, elated by wealth or honors or by physical beauty when young and foolish, whose soul is afire with the arrogant belief that so far from need­ing someone to control and lead him, he can play the leader to others — there's a man whom God has deserted. And in his desolation he collects others like himself, and in his soaring frenzy he causes universal chaos. Many people think he cuts a fine figure, but before long he pays to Justice no trifling penalty and brings himself, his home and state to rack and ruin. Thus it is ordained. What action, then, should a sensible man take, and what should his outlook be? What must he avoid doing or thinking?'

CLiNiAS.This much is obvious: every man must resolve to belong to those who fol­low in the company of God.⁴

According to this text, which mentions tapeinotes (‘humility') explicitly in relation to God, the person who bursts with pride, and who thinks that he has no need of someone to control and lead him, is deserted by God, losing friendship with God.⁵ Such persons play the leader to others, produce chaos, and swiftly bring ruin on themselves, their families, and cities.

Plato in this passage emphasizes some significant dangers from a lack of humility, but his emphasis on the loss of divine favour underlines another important point about humility, namely that it is theological texts, or at least theological themes in philosophical texts, that have typically championed humility. This association is reinforced by the frequency with which humility is mentioned in key texts of revealed theology. For example, Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew says, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:29 NRSV),⁶ which not only underlines the importance of humility in relation to God, but makes the utterly unintuitive assertion that God incarnate is also humble, and in an exemplary fashion.The First Letter of Peter says,“Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that in due time he may exalt you” (1 Peter 5:6), and the Letter ofJames reminds us that, “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6). A similar emphasis runs through the whole Christian tradition, with the texts of patristic authors, scholastic theologians and doctors of the church replete with references to the value and indispensability of humility for Christian life and salvation.

The ubiquity of humility in the theological tradition does not, however, necessarily com­mend humility in the contemporary and more secular world. Indeed, the close association of humility with theological faith, and its decline along with faith, can in fact be interpreted as lending support to a fairly standard critique, along Nietzschean lines, that humility is bound up with Judeo-Christian “slave morality” and lacks the nobility of the strong-willed. On such an account, humility has been orphaned by the decline of faith and, as the life of faith fades, perhaps also humility deserves to fade and be forgotten.

Before dispensing with humility, however, it is at least prudent to examine what its most able defenders have to say. In this chapter, I examine the work of St Thomas Aquinas (d. 1274), who incorporated humility within his most mature and detailed account of virtue ethics in his Summa theologiae (ST) II—I.55—89 and II—II.1—170. I analyse humility and its opposing vice of pride, and I conclude by examining briefly the prospects for a secular transposition of Aquinas' account.

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