1
“Not without phronesis”:
Socrates and Aristotle on Virtue
A. W. Müller
1
The Socratic position
judged from an Aristotelian point of view
In both the Eudemian and the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle
mentions Socrates several times; inter alia in the passage, from
which my paper draws its title. Socrates, he there says, “was
mistaken in thinking that all the virtues are forms of prudence
[phroneseis], but he was quite right in asserting that they imply
prudence [ouk aneu phroneseos]” (EN VI 1144b18-21; cf. EE I
1216b3-8, which has epistemai instead of phroneseis).
This and other passages suggest that Aristotle’s account of virtue
may be read, in part, as a corrective response to a position that he
attributes to the historical Socrates. About the notorious
problems raised by attempts to identify such a position, I wish to
say only two things: First, I take it for granted that Aristotle
himself was in a position to have a pretty good idea of the actual
Socrates’ views (cf. Guthrie 1969; Taylor 1998). Second, given
this assumption, and the tenor of Aristotle’s brief references to
Socrates on virtue and knowledge, it seems to me both justified
and helpful to read these references in the light of the early (or
better: Socratic) dialogues of Plato from which I am going to
quote. And third, such a reading seems to be of interest even if
the historical connexion is not what I am assuming it to be.
In what follows I wish to suggest that Aristotle’s account of the
role of phronesis (practical knowledge) in a life of virtue can be
viewed as an attempt, largely successful, to improve on the
Socratic view that virtue is knowledge.
This view – I am going to call it the identity thesis – is developed,
from various points of view, in various Platonic dialogues. In the
Meno, for instance, Socrates distinguishes those qualities of the
soul that are knowledge from those that are “different from it”.
Of the latter he says that they “at times harm us, at other times
2
benefit us” (88a-b). “If then virtue”, he concludes (c-d) “is
something in the soul and it must be beneficial, it must be
knowledge, since all the qualities of the soul are in themselves
neither beneficial nor harmful, but accompanied by wisdom or
folly they become harmful or beneficial. The argument shows
that virtue, being beneficial, must be a kind of wisdom”.
EN VI 1144b18ff: “there are two qualities, natural virtue
and virtue in the full sense; and of these the latter implies
prudence. This is the reason why some people maintain
that all the virtues are forms of prudence; and why Socrates,
though partly right, was also partly wrong in his inquiries,
because he was mistaken in thinking that all the virtues are
forms of prudence (phroneseis), but he was quite right in
asserting that they imply prudence (ouk aneu phroneseos).
This is shown by the fact that even now all thinkers, when
defining virtue, after first saying what state it is and what
its objects are, add the qualification ‘in accordance with the
right principle’; and the right principle is that which
accords with prudence. So it appears that everybody as it
were divines that virtue is a state of this kind, viz. in
conformity with prudence. But we must go a little further
than this, because virtue is not merely a state in conformity
with the right principle, but one that implies the right
principle; and the right principle in moral conduct is
prudence. So whereas Socrates thought that the virtues are
principles (phroneseis) (because he said that they are all
forms of knowledge), we say that they imply a principle
(ouk aneu phroneseos). Thus we see from these arguments
that it is not possible to be good in the true sense of the
word without prudence, or to be prudent without moral
goodness.”
The view thus arrived at raises a number of problems and
questions. In the next section, I am going to mention four of the
problems and indicate solutions to them that Aristotle’s account
can be taken to provide. The third and last section is devoted to
the question how the role of knowledge in the practice of virtue
affects the nature of “moral motivation”. I am going to suggest
that Aristotle’s conception of phronesis yields an account of
3
virtuous motivation that is, in some way, foreshadowed in
Republic I and II but not at all, as far as I can see, in the context
of what Socrates has to say about virtue as a kind of knowledge.
2
Four problems raised by the view that virtue is knowledge
2.1 What is the good that the virtuous person knows?
Let us then turn to the first problem with which the identity
thesis presents us. When we ask what virtue is knowledge of, the
answer is, of course: knowledge of the good. But this answer
leads to an insoluble problem. As Christopher Taylor writes,
“Socrates maintains both that virtue is knowledge of what the
agent’s good is and that it is that good itself” (65). But this
would mean that the knowledge in question is knowledge of this
very knowledge – which makes no sense.
Cf. Taylor, p. 64 f.
65: “The incoherence of the theory thus consists in the fact
that Socrates maintains both that virtue is knowledge of
what the agent’s good is and that it is that good itself,
whereas those two theses are inconsistent with one
another.”
67: “If human good is to be identified with both knowledge
and virtue, then that knowledge must have some object
other than itself.”
67: “Plato’s eventual solution was to develop (in the
Republic) a conception of human good as consisting in a
state of the personality in which the non-rational impulses
are directed by the intellect informed by knowledge, not of
human good, but of goodness itself, a universal principle of
rationality. On this conception (i) human good is virtue, (ii)
virtue is, not identical with, but directed by, knowledge,
and (iii) the knowledge in question is knowledge of the
universal good.”
67: “Protagoras may be seen as an exploration of another
solution to this puzzle, since in that dialogue Socrates sets
out an account of goodness whose central theses are: (i)
virtue is knowledge of human good (as in Meno); (ii)
4
human good is an overall pleasant life.” 68: “[…]this
theory, which retains the identity of virtue with knowledge
while abandoning the identity of virtue with human good”
Aristotle’s account of the connexion between ethical virtue and
phronesis is not circular in this way. But it escapes vacuity less
easily than might be thought. True, he does not identify virtue
with practical knowledge, he keeps the two conceptually apart;
and this is an important step. But he also holds the view that the
exercise of ethical virtue is both (1) constitutive of our overall
telos, at least: of human good in the form of practical
eudaimonia (happiness), and (2) derived from and determined by
a conception (hypolepsis – cf. NE VI 1142b33) which the
phronimos has of this very good, i.e. of the exercise of ethical
virtue itself. If we leave aside the precarious possibility of
theoretical eudaimonia, Aristotle’s position is, then, threatened
by a circle that may be articulated as follows:
Human good consists in practising virtue;
to practise virtue is to do what right reason tells you to do;
right reason tells you to do
what it judges to be necessary for achieving human good.
Here three notions seem to be explained in terms of each other:
good refers us to virtue, virtue to right reason, right reason to
good; but good once more refers us to virtue, and so on.
What saves Aristotle from this kind of circle is not, primarily,
the distinction between phronesis and ethical virtue but rather
the distinction of the various ethical virtues from one another.
This distinction allows Aristotle to attribute a specific telos
(purpose) to each virtue (cf. 2.3 below), and thereby content to
phronesis. Without that distinction, we should not be able to give
a satisfactory answer to the question: “What is the good of which
the virtuous person has knowledge?” The answer would just
have to be that he, or she, knows that acting well is this good,
and to act well is to actualize ethical virtue. But of ethical virtue
we only know that the phronimos has a correct conception of it –
unless we are told which particular qualities make for a good
character.
5
So how does Aristotle improve on the view that virtue is
knowledge of the good and thereby of itself? On my account he
takes two important steps. First, he teaches that virtue involves,
rather than is identical with, knowledge. Thereby he makes sure
that knowledge of what the good consists in can be knowledge of
virtue without being knowledge of itself. And second, he teaches
that the different virtues provide us with different (subordinate,
or partial) tele; so the knowledge that human good is a life of
ethical virtue amounts to knowledge that human good is a life of
justice, and courage, and temperance etc.
1.2 Is voluntary badness better than involuntary badness?
Our second problem is created by the fact that an explanation of
virtue in terms of knowledge seems to imply that voluntary lack
of it is better than involuntary.
Plato’s Hippias Minor reminds us that the kind of knowledge
that virtue is supposed to be according to Socrates, is something
akin to competence and technical expertise. The virtuous person
knows not only what human good consists in but also how it is
obtained. If, however, you know how to hit a target you will also
know how to miss it. Hence, if you are a good archer, you will
be able to miss it voluntarily, whereas the less competent or
incompetent archer will miss it involuntarily (375a-b). And,
quite generally, if in any craft you fail voluntarily you are better
at it than if you fail involuntarily.
Socrates now moves from the case of the craft to that of ethical
virtue: “As to the soul that plays the lyre and the flute better and
does everything else better in the crafts and the sciences –
doesn’t it accomplish bad and shameful things and miss the mark
voluntarily, whereas the more worthless does this involuntarily?
[…] Would we not wish to possess our own soul in the best
condition? […] So, will it be better if it acts badly and misses the
mark voluntarily or involuntarily?” To which Hippias replies:
“But it would be terrible, Socrates, if those who commit injustice
voluntarily are to be better than those who do it involuntarily!”
(375b-d)
6
How does Aristotle avoid this “terrible” conclusion? Above all,
he insists on distinguishing ethike arete from techne
(competence, skill, or craft) (e.g. EN VI 1140a1-6; b3f; cf. I
1094a3-5). Once this distinction is in place, he can agree with
Socrates that voluntary as opposed to involuntary failure reveals
superior competence (VI 1140b23f; cf. II 1105a26-33). Ethical
virtue, however, is a matter of prohairesis (choice resulting from
an abiding orientation towards an ultimate telos); it determines
what you want to do rather than can do (1139a35-b4;). And
while you may voluntarily fail to do what you can do, there is no
such thing as voluntarily failing to do what you want to do. Or,
rather: Where this may be said to be your failure, as in the case
of akrasia (cf. 2.4 below), the voluntariness of the failure is no
sign of either competence or any other kind of qualification.
2.3 Do the ethical virtues together
constitute one single knowledge?
Laches 195a: Nicias says of courage “that it is the
knowledge of the fearful and the hopeful in war and in
every other situation”. A similar position is articulated,
though not adopted, by Socrates himself in Protagoras 360d,
in the words “wisdom about what is and is not to be feared
is courage”.
In the Laches Socrates gets Nicias to agree that “courage is not
knowledge of the fearful and the hopeful only, because it
understands not simply future goods and evils, but those of the
present and the past and all times, just as is the case with the
other kinds of knowledge” (199b-c). And he concludes that, on
Nicias’ definition, the courageous person is none other than the
virtuous person.
As we have seen, however, Aristotle does not collapse the
ethical virtues into a single one; instead he unites them by tying
them all to a single intellectual virtue of phronesis.
The ethical virtues must not be identified with each other
because they are specified and defined in terms not of their
common telos (practical eudaimonia), but, roughly speaking, of
the kind of passion that they serve to shape and put in order for
7
the sake of that telos. The different ethical virtues are so many
dispositions to feel and act in specific ways (cf. II 1104a33-b9;
1105b28-1106a1; b18-22; 1107b1-1108b6; EE II 1220b11-20).
Phronesis, by contrast, makes sure, inter alia, that actualizations
of these various dispositions do not clash with each other. Thus,
by virtue of phronesis, the ethical virtues delimit and support
each other, in the service of the one embracing human good
(Mueller 2004), whose correct conception is indeed the work of
a single practical knowledge – of phronesis (cf. 2.1).
We may also say that Aristotle solves the unity problem by
distributing the conceptual demands which the Socratic view
strives to satisfy in one stroke. The demand for respecting the
difference in meaning of the virtue terms is met by the
distinctness of the ethical virtues, while the demand for mutual
inseparability is met by a kind of practical knowledge that
integrates the various concerns, or tele, of those virtues in a
single conception of eudaimonia, understood as acting well, or
virtuously.
2.4 Is all badness in conduct lack of knowledge
and therefore involuntary?
The most attended-to / popular problem raised by the identity
thesis is, of course, the implication that no one willingly does
wrong (Gorgias 509e), the so-called Socratic paradox.
Protagoras 345e has Socrates say: “I am pretty sure that none of
the wise men thinks that any human being willingly makes a
mistake or willingly does anything wrong or bad. They know
very well that anyone who does anything wrong or bad does so
involuntarily” (cf. also Protagaras 352b and 358d). But,
whatever the wise men say (we shall be tempted to reply), is it
not obvious that we all sometimes do what we know we ought
not to do? And isn’t that, in general, quite voluntary? –
Aristotle’s reaction to the Socratic paradox is complex.
In VII 1145b23-27, Socrates is criticized for his denial of
the possibility of incontinence. “What sort of right
conception can a man have, and yet be incontinent? Some
say that it is impossible for a man who knows, because it is
8
a shocking idea, as Socrates thought, that when a man
actually has knowledge in him something else should
overmaster it and ‘drag it about like a slave’. For Socrates
was utterly opposed to this theory, on the ground that there
is no such thing as incontinence; because he said that
nobody acts consciously against what is best – only
through ignorance. Now this reasoning is glaringly
inconsistent with observed facts; and it becomes necessary
to inquire with regard to the condition in question: if it is
due to ignorance, what is the manner of this ignorance?
………”
For one thing, he holds that even where an ethical defect betrays
lack of knowledge, this need not signal involuntariness. He holds,
in particular that ignorance of principle is not only blameworthy
but indeed the essence of ethical depravation (EN III 1110b301111a1; cf. 1113b16 and 1114a11). This is a controversial thesis.
But it has to be admitted that someone who has made it his
principle, e.g., not to let himself be diverted from his projects by
considerations of justice or benevolence, thinking this to be a
good way of getting on, has a bad character. We are not going to
say: But surely, he means well: his intention is to live as well as
he can; he just happens to believe, mistakenly, that bloody
mindedness and selfishness rather than justice and benevolence
are the best means of achieving the good life.
There is another way – obvious, I think, but not elaborated by
Aristotle – in which ignorance, and what is done ignorantly, may
be voluntary and blameworthy: You may be unaware of
empirical facts or conceptual connexions that you ought to be
aware of. A host, e.g., acts blameworthy in offering his guests a
dish that he can, and ought to, know is poisoned. If such a host
can be said to act involuntarily, this is not, at any rate, the kind
of involuntariness that excuses an action.
However, even where the relevant practical knowledge is not
defective in either of the two ways that I have mentioned, ethical
goodness is not, according to Aristotle, guaranteed – as it is
according to Socrates. Aristotle holds that you may know what
you ought to do and yet fail to do it – not because of any external
9
hindrance but on account of an opposing inclination of your own.
It is this kind of case that is discussed by him, and by
innumerable philosophers after him, under the head of akrasia,
or weakness of will.
It may be controversial what exactly Aristotle’s teaching is on
this point, and to what extent his somewhat complex account is
to be accepted as a solution to the problems that he is wrestling
with. But he does think he is able to dispel Socrates’ worry that
“when a man actually has knowledge in him something else
should overmaster it and ‘drag it about like a slave’” (VII
1145b23-27). At least, there is one passage in his discussion of
incontinence where he says that the knowledge that is ineffective
in the acratic, “the knowledge that is present when the emotion
occurs is not what is regarded as knowledge in the strict sense”
(1147b16-18; cf. EE VIII 1246b34f.).
So Aristotle seems to concede to Socrates that, where there is
discrepancy between practical knowledge and conduct, only a
certain lower level of knowledge is affected, and the “best part”
in man is not conquered by the passions. Nevertheless he does
reject the Socratic position in that he classifies the defect as a
voluntary one.
1.5 Could true opinion
take the place of the virtuous person’s knowledge?
Meno 97b: ”So true opinion is in no way a worse guide to
correct action than knowledge. It is this that we omitted in
our investigation of the nature of virtue, when we said that
only knowledge can lead to correct action, for true opinion
can do so also.”
BUT 97e-98a: “… true opinions, as long as they remain,
are a fine thing and all they do is good, but they are not
willing to remain until one ties them down by (giving) an
account of the reason why. And that, Meno my friend, is
recollection, as we previously agreed. After they are tied
down, in the first place they become knowledge, and then
they remain in place”
Aristotle seems to agree with this → next section.
10
3
How does knowledge relate to motivation?
3.1 A question for rationalist accounts of virtue
If virtue is knowledge, inter alia, of what it is good to do, and
knowledge requires a conviction that is justified by appropriate
reasons, it follows that the virtuous are aware of the reasons why
it is good to do this rather than that, to do, e.g., what is just, or
courageous etc. rather than what is unjust or cowardly etc. Is it
not plausible then to assume that these reasons will also motivate
the virtuous actions that correspond to this knowledge?
I am not presupposing that reasons for thinking it good to  are
necessarily reasons for -ing. For just as there are reasons why it
is good to perform certain actions, there are, in the same sense of
“reason”, reasons why it is good to be treated in certain ways, or
to be in certain situations; and here the question of motivation
does not even arise. So even where “” is read as a proxy for
action verbs only, we should not straightaway exclude the
possibility of reasons for thinking it good to  that are not
reasons for -ing.
Nevertheless, it does seem that, at least in general, the reason for
which you think it good to is, at the same time, your motive
for -ing – if you do on the basis of ethical knowledge.
We should, however, take note of a further problem before we
identify cognitive and motivational reasons in the way I am
suggesting. The problem is concealed by an ambiguity in the
phrase “reason for which it is thought good to ”. This may
mean a) something that is thought to be a reason why it is good
to , or b) something that gives one a reason for thinking that it
is good to . And it is not clear whether the reason that
motivates a good action has to be a reason in both senses.
I do not wish, at this point, to discuss the question whether
practical knowledge requires, for its basis, a reason in sense (a).
The concept of motivation, however, seems to require that the
motivating reason be a reason for wanting to and thus a reason
11
in the sense of (a) as well as (b) – a reason viewed as responsible
for the goodness that elicits the wanting.
Suppose, for instance, you judge that it is good to give X some
money because X is in need. If, then, X’s need motivates you to
give him some money, you will be acting on a reason that
actually renders your action good (is responsible for its
goodness) – not something that just happens to be your evidence
for the goodness of that action.
Let us then assume that, at least in general, if you know that it is
good to and your reason for judging that it is good to  is the
reason why -ing is good, then that very same reason provides
you with a motive for -ing.
What do Socrates and Aristotle have to say about this
motivational role of cognitive reasons?
3.2 What Socrates might have said
Socrates in particular may be expected to make much of it. For if
to act from virtue is to act from knowledge, the kind of
judgemental, or cognitive, reason that distinguishes
imperturbable knowledge from shaky opinion must surely be
responsible for the firmness of virtue – for its immunity to any
kind of temptation from the threats of pain or the promises of
pleasure. And Socrates should point to the coincidence between
reasons for judging and reasons for acting in support of his thesis
that if you really know what you ought to do you will infallibly
do it: If that which secures the truth of the relevant judgement is
the very same thing as what moves to the corresponding conduct,
this would seem a very good basis indeed for the claim that no
further factor beyond knowledge is needed to constitute virtue.
As far as I can see, however, we do not find any such
consideration in Socrates’ discussions of virtue.
It may be that, unlike the word reason, the relevant Greek
terms of which Socrates avails himself in these discussions
12
are not suggestive of the connexion between cognitive and
practical reasons. I admit that I have not tried to trace,
under this aspect, any relevant occurrences of such words
as aition, logos, dia, or heneka in the Socratic dialogues, or
in other relevant sources. But whatever explanatory insight
a search of this kind might reveal, it seems clear that, as a
matter of fact, the Socratic identification of virtue with
knowledge does not look for support in the direction of the
twofold role of reasons.
In Meno 77b-79c the connexion between motivation and
virtue is not made on these lines.
Socrates is here surprisingly open to replacing knowledge
by opinion!
In Gorgias 467 ff we do find intention IN action opposed to
FURTHER intention. And: What we really WANT, is not
the action but its intended result. Conclusion: In some
sense you do not want what is bad.
Can we leave it open whether (a) and (b) have to coincide
for there to be ethical knowledge? No: not if we assume
that, in general, cognitive reasons have a motivational
function as well. Rather, we have to say: You know that it
is good to  only if your reason for thinking that it is good
to  is thought by you to be (and actually is) the, or a,
reason why it is good to . For, quite generally, a reason
for judging that p may have nothing much to do with the
content of “p”, and, in particular, a reason for judging that
it is good to  may not relate to the quality of -ing; but
the motive of an action must surely relate to this action’s
quality if the action is to be a good one.
On the other hand, the identity thesis amounts to saying: If you
know what you have to do for the sake of your own good, you
will inevitably do it; if you know that in order to live well you
have to  you will actually . This thesis is naturally taken to
imply that what you know there gives you an irresistible reason
for -ing. And this, in turn, is best understood as saying: That
feature of -ing which is the reason why -ing is for your good,
and hence (supposing you know this) your reason for judging
13
that -ing is for your good – that feature is also the motivating
reason on which you will act, i.e.: actually .
3.3 Real v. apparent virtue: Republic II on motivation
Let us apply this idea to Glaucon’s suggestion, in Republic II
359c ff., that just people act justly only for fear of being detected
and punished if they do not: Could they make themselves
invisible by the ring of Gyges, they would commit all manner of
injustice, because that is what they would think to be for their
overall good.
“one is never just willingly but only when compelled to be.
No one believes justice to be a good when it is kept private,
since, wherever either person thinks he can do injustice
with impunity, he does it. Indeed, every man believes that
injustice is far more profitable to himself than justice.” II
360c
Socrates is here being challenged to show that a person’s overall
good is not in fact served by injustice, even if there is no danger
of detection and punishment. Let us, however, concentrate on the
question: What motivates an apparently just action,  on the
Glauconian, or rather devil’s advocate’s, account? The answer
must be something like this: The “just” person, unable to avail
him- or herself of the ring of Gyges, -es in order to seem just;
he wants to seem just in order to avoid trouble; and he wants to
avoid trouble for the sake of his own good.
What about such a person’s epistemic situation? Not only may
he be right in judging that -ing makes him appear to be just,
and that the appearance of justice keeps him out of trouble; he
may even be right in judging that avoiding trouble serves his
own good! And why should we not say that perhaps he knows
these things, and therefore knows that -ing is (by way of its
apparent justice!) for his own good? Moreover – and here lies
the relevance of the example to the present topic – he may also
know that (real) justice is, or would be, good for him, and
therefore know that (by way of its real justice) -ing is, or would
be, for his own good. So how does he differ, on Socrates’
14
account, from the really just man, who seems to know no more,
or even less, than the Glauconion imposter?
A number of things may be said in answer to this question. For
the purpose of this paper, however, I wish to concentrate on the
obvious observation that the two characters are differently
motivated. They  for different reasons. This is the perspective
of Glaucon, too, when he instructs us to leave out, in our
paradigmatic representation of the really just person, “his
reputation, for a reputation for justice would bring him honour
and rewards, so that it wouldn’t be clear whether he is just for
the sake of justice itself or for the sake of those honours and
rewards” (II 361b-c).
The expression, “for the sake of justice itself”, signals an
important move in the discussion of the notion of virtue. As I
have said, Socrates himself does not seem to entertain the idea
that the reason why a virtuous action is good, and for which it is
rightly judged to be good, also plays the role of a reason for
performing it, and indeed must be your reason, your motive, for
performing it, if your performance is to be an act of virtue. It is
also doubtful to what extent considerations such as the
Glauconian ones in Republic II were ever addressed by the
actual Socrates.
If, however, it is in the nature of virtue to be, in some sense, a
matter of knowledge, then, surely, this aspect of it must be
related to the fact that your reason for doing something is
relevant to its ethical quality? Let us then see what Aristotle has
to say about this relationship.
3.4 Aristotle on virtuous motivation
In EN II 4, 1105a28-33 Aristotle, speaking about the
requirements for the goodness of praxis, says that “the things
that come about in accordance with the excellences count as
done justly or moderately not merely because they themselves
are of a certain kind, but also because of facts about the agent
doing them – first, if he does them knowingly, secondly if he
decides to do them for themselves, and thirdly if he does them
from a firm and unchanging disposition.”
15
The second of these conditions is of special interest in the
present context. We may say that a praxis is materially just, or
moderate, or otherwise good if it is “of a certain kind” (ean auta
pos echei); in order for it to be formally just, or moderate, or
otherwise good, the agent must do it for its own sake
(prohairoumenos di’ auta).
Cf. 1115b17ff for courage and dikaiopragein etc.
((Aristotle seems to be using the word dikaipragein as
opposed to dikaia prattein in EN V 8, 1135b2-8 and 9,
1136a3-5. Cf. also 8, 1135a16-18 and I 8, 1099a18-20.))
EN VI 9, 1142b17-26 on euboulia.
The same distinction between material and formal goodness can
be seen to be operative in EN VI 13, 1144a13-20: “Just as we
say that in some cases people do what is just without being just
themselves, e.g. those who are doing things that have been
prescribed by the laws, but either counter-voluntarily, or because
of ignorance, or because of some different consideration, not
because of what the things themselves are (even though they are
doing what one should, and everything consistent with being a
person of excellence), so, it seems, it is possible to do the various
sorts of things from a certain disposition, so as actually to be a
good person: I mean e.g. doing them because of decision, and for
the sake of the things being done themselves”.
If I have to get along without the ring of Gyges and, therefore,
do from fear of detection etc. whatever the really just would also
do, my motivation is an excellent example of Aristotle’s
“because of some different consideration”, and my action a case
of merely material justice.
3.5 The coincidence of cognitive and practical reasons
The ultimate reason for which I judge that it would be good for
me to , or that I ought to  is represented, in Aristotle’s
account, by the starting point (arche) of a practical syllogism
(EN III, 1112b15f.). In the case of a virtuous person, this will be
an arche of practical knowledge. But it is also the arche of his or
her action – the telos for the sake of which that action is
performed, its dia ti (cf. e.g. EN VII 9, 1151b19-22.).
16
In other words: With Aristotle we do find what we have not
found with Socrates. He clearly teaches that my ultimate reason
for thinking an action to be the thing to do, is at the same time to
be my motive for performing it.
In the light of the distinction between material and formal
goodness, we shall also understand better what Aristotle has in
mind when he says, at EN VI 1144b26f.: “[…] virtue is not
merely a state in conformity with the right principle, but one that
implies the right principle (((viz. phronesis))) – esti gar ou
monon he kata ton orthon logon, all’ he meta tou orthou logou
hexis arete estin)”. Phrased in my terminology, his point is this:
Mere conformity with the demands of practical reason, viz. with
the conclusions of correct practical syllogisms, is enough to
confer material goodness on an action; its formal goodness,
however, requires the agent her- or himself to judge that the telos
assumed / presupposed by phronesis is the reason for which that
action ought to be done. Moreoever, this judgement must be, in
the case of the virtuous person, a practical judgement in this
sense: It guarantees that what is judged to be the action’s proper
telos, i.e. the virtuous motive, does in fact motivate the agent to
do what phronesis requires.
Finally, a “choice” to  in the sense of an Aristotelian
prohairesis, may be interpreted as a mental operation
((energeia)) composed, as it were, of practical thought (dianoia)
and striving (orexis), held together by a common purpose (telos)
that is operative as a reason for both the practical thought and the
striving. We might even say that this conception of prohairesis is
Aristotle’s way of identifying not indeed virtue with knowledge,
but the arche of virtue with the arche of knowledge, or, more
precisely, the arche or logos that motivates the virtuous person’s
action with the arche or logos that grounds his or her practical
judgement.
So Aristotle, who does not hold the identity thesis, suggests a
way of at least approaching it that Socrates, who does hold the
thesis, fails to explore. But that may be just as well if Socrates
was wrong to hold it in the first place.