In order to think about the possibility of a science of virtues, we must, of course, reflect on what we mean by virtue. In the st sense, virtues are dispositions to act in certain morally good ways. (1) Thus, a courageous person is disposed to face er without fleeing, and we would be hesitant to characterize someone who runs away from er as courageous. Yet, strangely enough, a person characterized by courage might in some circumstances flee from er without causing us to doubt that he possessed the virtue. And, on the other hand, a person who lacked the virtue of courage might on occasion face er without fleeing, (2) Sometimes, therefore, we will discover no perfect fit between virtuous character and a disposition to act in specific ways.
A little better characterization of virtues is to think of them as something like skills that we acquire through habituation. The pitcher (棒球抽手) who throws a low strike over the outside corner of the plate may just be lucky. If, however, he can do it time after time—habitually—he has acquired a skill. Virtues are something like that, though also a bit different. (3) They are not simply skills that, like technical competence, enable us to carry out a particular task with proficiency; rather, they are skills that fit us for life generally. Acquiring virtues is more like learning to drive a car than it is like merely being able to parallel park. Driving requires a capacity to respond in fitting ways to countless circumstances that arise along the way, not just the ability to carry out a single maneuver.
This account of virtues as something like skills more closely approximates a reasonable description of what we mean by virtue, but even habituation cannot be the complete story. It is hard for a pitcher to become skilled, because throwing that low, outside strike is inherently difficult, no matter how badly he wants to throw it. (4) In virtuous action, however, much of the difficulty may come precisely from what we want, from our own contrary inclinations. If I deliberately throw a pitch outside the strike zone, that does not mean I lack the capacity to throw a strike. But if I deliberately cheat the opposing team, I seem to lack a certain virtue. (5) Thus, virtues are not only habitual; they also engage the will in a way that skills do not.

(4) In virtuous action, however, much of the difficulty may come precisely from what we want, from our own contrary inclinations

In order to think about the possibility of a science of virtues, we must, of course, reflect on what we mean by virtue. In the st sense, virtues are dispositions to act in certain morally good ways. (1) Thus, a courageous person is disposed to face er without fleeing, and we would be hesitant to characterize someone who runs away from er as courageous. Yet, strangely enough, a person characterized by courage might in some circumstances flee from er without causing us to doubt that he possessed the virtue. And, on the other hand, a person who lacked the virtue of courage might on occasion face er without fleeing, (2) Sometimes, therefore, we will discover no perfect fit between virtuous character and a disposition to act in specific ways.
A little better characterization of virtues is to think of them as something like skills that we acquire through habituation. The pitcher (棒球抽手) who throws a low strike over the outside corner of the plate may just be lucky. If, however, he can do it time after time—habitually—he has acquired a skill. Virtues are something like that, though also a bit different. (3) They are not simply skills that, like technical competence, enable us to carry out a particular task with proficiency; rather, they are skills that fit us for life generally. Acquiring virtues is more like learning to drive a car than it is like merely being able to parallel park. Driving requires a capacity to respond in fitting ways to countless circumstances that arise along the way, not just the ability to carry out a single maneuver.
This account of virtues as something like skills more closely approximates a reasonable description of what we mean by virtue, but even habituation cannot be the complete story. It is hard for a pitcher to become skilled, because throwing that low, outside strike is inherently difficult, no matter how badly he wants to throw it. (4) In virtuous action, however, much of the difficulty may come precisely from what we want, from our own contrary inclinations. If I deliberately throw a pitch outside the strike zone, that does not mean I lack the capacity to throw a strike. But if I deliberately cheat the opposing team, I seem to lack a certain virtue. (5) Thus, virtues are not only habitual; they also engage the will in a way that skills do not.