When two adjacent alpine glaciers move downslope, they gouge parallel U-shaped valleys separated by a long narrow ridge called an arête. Another areté, the Greek (ἀρετή), a word variously defined, largely suggests “the straight and narrow” in an ethical sense. There is yet another Arete, this one the name of the mythical queen of Scheria and wife of Alcinous. Arete was a model of virtue and hospitality. And there is one more: Arete of Cyrene whose father, a disciple of Socrates, taught her philosophy. This Arete became an authoress and a philosopher of moral philosophy in the fifth and fourth centuries BCE, and she was reportedly renowned for her own virtue.
Both arête and areté are difficult paths, both are narrow, and both have precipitous sides. Interrupted by breaks called cols, alpine arêtes offer remnant, isolated spires as perilous challenges for rock climbers. Interrupted by doubts and difficult choices, the paths of an ethical life are also challenging. They offer no guardrails to prevent a “fall,” and, like their mountain counterparts, they provide no more than treacherous footing. Many, having tried to walk the “straight and narrow,” have tumbled from the path.
An ethical life never follows a wide and easy path. Maybe if we thought of walking the “straight and narrow path” as similar to clambering on an arête, we would be more cautious about our footing and would fall less often. And there’s another reason for thinking of living ethically as a risky climb. What would we feel if we accepted the ethical path as a physical adventure? Alpine climbers no doubt undergo a suffusion of dopamine from their conquering high elevations. Walking the narrow path of an ethical life might not seem to be the source of the rush that mountain climbing provides. However, were we to convince ourselves that an ethical life is as exhilarating as climbing an arête, we might be motivated to be more like the mythical Arete and the ancient philosopher Arete, both known for persistence in walking the straight and narrow path of virtue that for them—as it is for us—was bordered by precipitous sides.
Arête:
https://nsidc.org/cryosphere/glaciers/gallery/aretes.html
Col:
https://www4.uwsp.edu/geo/faculty/lemke/alpine_glacial_glossary/landforms/col.html
Both arête and areté are difficult paths, both are narrow, and both have precipitous sides. Interrupted by breaks called cols, alpine arêtes offer remnant, isolated spires as perilous challenges for rock climbers. Interrupted by doubts and difficult choices, the paths of an ethical life are also challenging. They offer no guardrails to prevent a “fall,” and, like their mountain counterparts, they provide no more than treacherous footing. Many, having tried to walk the “straight and narrow,” have tumbled from the path.
An ethical life never follows a wide and easy path. Maybe if we thought of walking the “straight and narrow path” as similar to clambering on an arête, we would be more cautious about our footing and would fall less often. And there’s another reason for thinking of living ethically as a risky climb. What would we feel if we accepted the ethical path as a physical adventure? Alpine climbers no doubt undergo a suffusion of dopamine from their conquering high elevations. Walking the narrow path of an ethical life might not seem to be the source of the rush that mountain climbing provides. However, were we to convince ourselves that an ethical life is as exhilarating as climbing an arête, we might be motivated to be more like the mythical Arete and the ancient philosopher Arete, both known for persistence in walking the straight and narrow path of virtue that for them—as it is for us—was bordered by precipitous sides.
Arête:
https://nsidc.org/cryosphere/glaciers/gallery/aretes.html
Col:
https://www4.uwsp.edu/geo/faculty/lemke/alpine_glacial_glossary/landforms/col.html
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