The Ethics of Eudaimonia and the Anthropocene
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Photo Credit: AI-generated by Olexandr Tytarchuk on Adobe Stock
What if well-being was really about well-doing?
There have likely always been fierce debates about what well-being means. When Aristotle opined on the topic a couple of millennia ago, he was writing a treatise about ethics (ca. 350 B.C.E./1994). Some say he was writing to his son, Nicomachus (Natali, 2013). Think of it as a father’s guide on how to live a good life—something worth paying attention to if your father happens to be one of the most influential thinkers in Western civilization.
Aristotle argued that many people think well-being is all about pleasure (not much has changed there). However, if you want a good life, you need to dig deeper and discover how to bring the best of yourself to achieve your purpose. For Aristotle, everything has a purpose. A cello’s purpose is to make beautiful music. A chair’s purpose is to be sat in. The thing that makes humans genuinely special—our unique purpose—is our capacity to think and reason. We flourish when we utilize all that reason to try and do good in the world. In Aristotle's words, “human good turns out to be activity of soul in accordance with virtue” (Aristotle, ca. 350 B.C.E./1994, Book I, Chapter 7). He called this eudaimonia.
This virtuous action is hard work—it’s filled with all kinds of booby traps and pitfalls because each situation likely calls for a different set of virtues applied in different ways. We fail more often than we succeed—but for Aristotle, that’s the work of well-being—that’s what virtue ethics and eudaimonia are all about: trying to figure out how to harness the best of ourselves in service of doing some degree of good in the world. It’s not a one-and-done thing. We do it every single day, and if we do, when we reach the end of our lives, we’ll feel we have had a life well-lived.
How are we doing on virtuous action today?
When I look around, it seems doubtful that humans, as a species, are living up to our eudaimonic potential. I would give our neoliberal late-stage capitalist society a low grade for activity of the soul in accordance with virtue. Despite improvements in life expectancy, health, and social tolerance (Pinker, 2012), ever-widening divides between people, growing wealth inequality, and the erosion of democratic norms suggest we are falling short. One recent report found that liberal democracies are now the least common form of government, with three-quarters of the world’s population living under autocracy (Nord et al., 2025).
Aristotle was arguably the first biologist (Leroi, 2015), so let’s zoom in on one topic that he might lose some sleep over if he had to witness it: the ways we interact with the planet. The Anthropocene describes how human actions have radically reshaped the planet since the Industrial Revolution (Davies, 2016). Without sugarcoating, we’re doing a very good job of destroying the earth as we know it.
Over the past 50 years, a third of all birds have disappeared in the United States (Rosenberg et al., 2019), and three-quarters of all insects are gone (Hallmann et al., 2017). Ninety percent of the large fish that once swam in our oceans have vanished (Myers & Worm, 2003). Across forests, wetlands, and coral reefs, biodiversity is collapsing at alarming rates, with some estimates suggesting we lose up to 2% of the life around us every year.
And that’s just the living world. Our mass-production-driven economy has loaded the atmosphere with plastics, fossil fuels, and heavy metals. Earth is already 1.1°C (2°F) warmer than it was 150 years ago (IPCC, 2023), driving heat domes, droughts, wildfires, floods, and superstorms that increasingly dominate the news—and our lives.
It’s tempting to think we still have plenty of time, but on our current trajectory, by 2050 the planet is likely to warm by another 1.1°C. That shift could create billions of climate refugees, make regions like India, Pakistan, and parts of the U.S. Midwest nearly uninhabitable (Xu et al., 2020; Parker, 2016), and accelerate the collapse of critical ecosystems like the Amazon and Arctic permafrost (Steffen et al., 2018).
Scientists warn that we are already on a collision course with what could become the sixth great mass extinction event in Earth’s history.
How did we end up here?
We pursue happiness in a ME-focused way, often at the expense of the collective good. And lest you think I’m standing on a high moral ground, let’s make this about ME for a moment.
A couple of years ago, I traded my small condo in a big city for a spacious, older house on the east coast of Canada—and with it, a new car, the first I’ve owned in eight years. I thought about going electric but opted for a gas-powered car that was cheaper, more fun, and easier to manage on road trips. While I make some effort to shop at farmers’ markets and local butchers, most of my groceries still come from the big supermarket, delivered via carbon-intensive supply chains. When I don’t cook, we order in—often in piles of plastic packaging. I do recycle, though every other week I’m still tossing out six bags, much of which likely ends up in landfills, the ocean, or gets turned into toxic byproducts slowly poisoning the planet.
Let’s face it, how I eat, consume, and use energy largely fails the activity of the soul in accordance with virtue test. I’m far more focused on my state of pleasure (or at least momentary contentment) than I am on a eudaimonic commitment to planetary flourishing. Frankly, this fills me not only with shame and despair at the world I’m creating for the future, but also a fair bit of anger at our collective greed and selfishness.
The Positive Power of Anger
We cannot ignore our realities if we wish to act with virtue. Aristotle argued that anger could be virtuous if it is used with moderation, purpose, and reason (Aristotle, ca. 350 B.C.E./1994, Book IV, Chapter 5). Too little anger allows atrocities like the Anthropocene to pass by without a word in edgewise. Too much anger leads to being labeled a raving fanatic, alienating those around us. The right amount of anger prompts us to ask: What can I do to make a difference?
It may feel strange to see anger as a crucial component of well-being, but that’s the essence of eudaimonia. If we wish to bring out the best in ourselves to achieve good and challenging purposes, we must harness all aspects of ourselves to do so. In other words, if I want to flourish, once I understand the risks to the planet posed by my behavior and once I recognize that there’s even a slight chance that changing that behavior could positively impact the planet, I should probably try to do so. This remains true even if many of the more catastrophic changes to the planet will occur long after my death. Sure, that makes me uncomfortable. But Aristotle may have encouraged me to sit with this discomfort. Perhaps he’d suggest I think ahead and visualize the final days of my life. In those moments, would I be able to reflect back and say I was aware of what was coming and did everything I was prepared to do to make a difference? My future self can guide me in rethinking what eudaimonic action means for me today.
Upward Spirals of Virtuous Action
Let’s start at home. When we moved into our old new house, our inspector nudged us to replace the oil furnace with an electric heat pump—yay inspector, yay us! Now we’re looking into cleaner energy sources to power it, and with a roof replacement coming soon, it’s the perfect time to add insulation and maybe solar panels too. Seeing others in the neighborhood make similar choices has been inspiring—solar, it turns out, is contagious (Graziano & Gillingham, 2015). The gas-guzzler will stay for now, but at least it’s used (recycling, right?), and the next one will be electric. Meanwhile, I can walk more—nothing in this city is more than 45 minutes away. As for food, shifting toward a more plant-based diet with local, seasonal ingredients could help us cut takeout, eat healthier, and maybe even feel better.
A Regenerative Positive Intervention
That list of do-goodery may have been fun to write, but I know myself well enough to recognize that there’s a difference between the land of good ideas and the land of committed action. Just understanding virtue isn’t enough. To truly change, I need community. I need others to hold me accountable and lift me up.
That’s how all these ideas began for me: through an initiative called The Week, which I participated in with fellow MAPPsters last year. I loved it so much that I did it twice—and now, I’m writing in the hope that others will experience it too.
Anyone can take part in The Week. You gather members of your community, school, or workplace (virtually or in person) to watch three short episodes of a docuseries over the course of one week. After each episode, you dive into self-facilitated conversations that help you make sense of what you’ve just seen—and what it calls you to do.
The Week is what Mike Steger (2024) might call a regeneratively positive intervention. It is eudaimonic by design, leading participants on a journey from despair to anger to hope—not alone, but together.
Together, you mourn.
Together, you learn and grow.
Together, you voice purpose, envision change, and build mastery in your own environment.
And most importantly, together, you forge a community of commitment and care.
By participating, you don’t just feel less alone; you become part of a rippling network of thousands, seeing firsthand the impact we can have when we act in concert. Everything about the way The Week cultivates self-awareness, growth, purpose, autonomy, mastery, and relatedness makes it a powerful intervention for eudaimonic well-being (Ryff, 1989). It likely won’t make you feel happy in the moment. But it will leave you called—urgently, imperfectly, beautifully—to contribute your activity of the soul in accordance with virtue.
It won’t be easy work. But it will be good work. Necessary work. The kind of work humanity was meant for.
From Awareness to Action
As we stand at the crossroads of the Anthropocene, the ethics of eudaimonia invite us to embrace a more expansive view of well-being—one rooted not just in personal happiness, but in the daily, imperfect pursuit of virtue and collective flourishing.
As you reflect on these ideas, here are a few key takeaways to carry forward:
Well-being is ethical work. Flourishing means living purposefully and acting with virtue, especially amid complexity and discomfort.
Anger can be virtuous. When channeled wisely, anger fuels courageous action and change.
Small steps matter. Our daily choices ripple outward to shape broader systems and communities.
Community multiplies impact. Facing the Anthropocene together transforms despair into hope and commitment.
Regeneration is possible. Interventions like The Week foster growth, autonomy, mastery, and collective flourishing.
In times of great challenge, we must remember that we each have the power—and arguably, the ethical responsibility—to engage in activities of the soul in accordance with virtue. Not for perfection. Not for praise. But so that, when the final chapter of our lives is written, we can say we tried. We loved. We changed. We contributed to something larger than ourselves. In an age when humanity’s choices will echo for millennia, there is no greater work we can do.
That, Aristotle might argue, is the work—and the deep, imperfect beauty—of a eudaimonic life.
References
Aristotle. (1994). Nicomachean ethics (W. D. Ross, Trans.). The Internet Classics Archive. http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/nicomachaen.html (Original work published ca. 350 B.C.E.)
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Davies, J. (2016). The birth of the Anthropocene. University of California Press.
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About the author | Andrew Soren (C’13) is the founder and CEO of Eudaimonic by Design, a global network of facilitators, coaches and advisors who share a passion for well-being and believe organizations must be designed to enable it. Together they harness the best of scholarship and years of experience to advise organizations and design systems that unlock potential and bring out the best in people.
For the past 25 years, Andrew has worked with some of the most recognized brands, non-profits and public sector teams to co-create values-based cultures, develop positive leadership, and design systems that empower people to be their best.
He regularly writes and speaks about how to apply the science of wellbeing at work. His most recent article, Meaningful Work, Well-Being, and Health: Enacting a Eudaimonic Vision, was just published in the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health.
Since 2013, Andrew has been part of the instructional team at the University of Pennsylvania’s internationally renowned Master of Applied Positive Psychology program. He is a member of the board for the International Positive Psychology Association and was Chair of its 8th World Congress on Positive Psychology held in Vancouver, Canada in July 2023.
He was a senior advisor in Governance, Culture and Leadership at LRN and he spent 13 years at BMO Financial Group, one of Canada’s largest banks, where he led strategy in both marketing and human resources, focusing on brand revitalization, leadership development and the co-creation of high performance culture.
Andrew is an ICF certified coach through the Co-Active Training Institute (formerly the Coaches Training Institute).
He is based in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.
www.eubd.ca | www.linkedin.com/in/andrewsoren | www.facebook.com/eubd.ca