How to Improve Without Getting Better: On the Practice of Vice Management from Aztec Philosophy

Maybe Becoming the Best Version of Yourself Shouldn’t Be Your Goal

Aztec philosophy flourished in what is now Mexico for a little over two-hundred years before European powers ended its practice in 1521. While most people only know the stories written by the conquistadors, the actual ethical philosophy of the Aztecs presents us with a unique set of tools to live happier, richer, and more meaningful lives.

In this essay, I explain one of their most counter-intuitive and useful possibilities: vice management.

To express that idea memorably: what if you don’t have to become the best version of yourself to live a better life? What if you could learn to pit your vices against each other instead?

Most of the Aztec philosophy that we have was recorded by Spanish clergymen, just after the conquest, and their purpose was to understand the native population better in order to convert them. Despite their intentions, the result is that we have had volumes and volumes of Aztec philosophy for about 500 years, and I am one of a small group of academic philosophers who is working to correct this centuries-long neglect.

My philosophical purpose here, in reconstructing this outlook, is to defend the viability of a view that would have been considered logically impossible for Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoic philosophers of classical Greek and Roman antiquity. Practically, you’ll learn a whole new way to think about personal development.

Let’s start with the theoretical possibility of this idea since the “Western” tradition of philosophy would deem it ludicrous.

The Possibility of Vice Management

Virtues in “Western” philosophy are qualities of your character that enable you to live well, which is why the Greek word aretē more accurately means excellence.

The Aztecs also had this notion, or at least something quite close. Because they had a culturally specific manner of speaking poetically, they used a phrase: in qualli, in yectli. This phrase is too literally translated as the good and the straight, but the poetic meaning of the phrase is clearly “excellence” or “virtue” (e.g. FC 10.1, 2).

For a philosopher like Aristotle, virtues and vices are logically interdefinable. In his Nicomachean Ethics, for example, he characterizes bravery as the mean or middle point between too much fear (cowardice) and too little (rashness). Briefly, bravery is having the right amount of courage in the face of fear, but not so much of that confident feeling that you run off at the enemy and die stupidly (NE III 1115a7–1117b20).

The Aztecs also have a notion of the mean, but it works differently than anything in Aristotle because they held that you enact your virtues with the help of other people (FC 6.19, 101). The idea at work is what philosophers call shared agency.

Suppose that you and your friend are trying to move a heavy couch. You get ready and begin the count

1, 2, 3 … lift!

When you are doing that aren’t you thinking of yourself differently than you normally do? Aren’t you thinking of yourself as acting as part of a collective? If you weren’t, then why even try to coordinate your actions?

To express that difference, philosophers say that you are thinking of yourself by way of a “we-intention.” There is a whole field of philosophy devoted to spelling out what is involved in that kind of awareness, but the only point that matters for ethics is that acting in that way has a different moral basis than acting on your own.

The Aztecs held that such collective actions are really quite common. And beyond cases like lifting a couch, which are constrained temporally, the same dynamic is at work in relationships, which extend over time. In fact, isn’t one of the main tasks in a romantic relationship just setting things up so that you and your partner can live well together?

But if that’s right, if there are not only virtues of character, but virtues of shared agency (for cases like lifting a couch) and virtues of relationships (for friends, family, and romance), then a logical possibility opens: other people in your life can help you overcome your vices.

As long as you are good enough to act with them, you don’t need to improve individually to lead a better life. And isn’t that at least part of the reason we enjoy having good relationships in the first place?

How To Practice This With Others

To explain to my students how to apply this, I usually give them the following example. My wife is also a philosopher, though she works at a different university than I do. A few years ago, we moved into a new house that split the commute between our schools and were told by our neighbors to expect many, many Trick-Or-Treaters.

Deciding to err on the side of having too much candy, rather than too little, we ended the night with a glutinous excess of sweets. Not knowing what to do with it, we kept it in a large platter on the coffee table.

Unfortunately, I have a sweet tooth and every time I passed I couldn’t resist the temptation. Immediately afterward, I would feel guilty.

One day, I returned from work to find the candy bowl empty. When asked, my wife replied: “Oh, I just gave it to the college students.” And with that, my cycle of transgression and guilt was over.

Notice what happened there. I did not gain any more self-control (temperance). I didn’t even think of a solution. Instead, someone else who cared about me and knew that I was trying to get into better shape simply intervened and solved the problem.

My life improved, as a result, but I didn’t improve my character — I still can’t resist sweets. That’s Aztec vice management in a nutshell.

In one of the Discourses of the Elders you’ll find an elder taking turns describing the ideal man, then the woman in parallel form. Here is what he says about the man:

He is revered, in truth he is a defender and sustainer. He is like the Ceiba and the Montezuma Cypress, near which and under which people take refuge (FC 6.14,73).

If you have ever seen the root structure of these massive trees, it becomes obvious that one idea expressed by this passage is that an ideal person has deep roots. That’s why the Aztecs conceived of the good life, a happy one, as the rooted life.

But another idea expressed here is that the ideal person is one who interacts with others by sheltering and shading them. In fact, the whole of Aztec society was organized around developing routines and rituals so that people could provide that shelter and shade for one another.

In modern life, it is difficult for many of us to grow the deep roots needed to make this work as well. We often don’t live in one community our whole lives, and just as often our family members live an airplane flight away. Is there, then, a version of this practice that works on a more individual level? I think so.

How To Practice This On Yourself

Some years ago, I was at a conference speaking with a friend (let’s call him Dave) who publishes a tremendous amount of material. I asked him what his secret was. He said roughly the following:

It’s simple Sebastian. I am a slothful man, but I am also a vain one. Fortunately for me, I am more vain than I am slothful. So I simply commit myself to events where it would be embarrassing for me not to complete more research.

Rather than figure out how to build more willpower, then, Dave pitted one of his vices against another. The more overpowering vice won out and the end result was that Dave led a better life.

This is different from vice management as discussed above since Dave did this on himself, but maybe that’s just the twist we need in modernity. I’ll explain how to practice this on yourself adding my own attempt as an example (that’s only fair, I suppose).

First, get comfortable with the fact that you have vices and try to identify which of the following are your top three. I’ve collected these from volumes three, six, and ten of the Florentine Codex, and most of them are at least close to the “Western” concepts you’re familiar with.

1. Pride
2. Sloth
3. Lust
4. Gluttony
5. Cowardice
6. Vanity
7. Greed
8. Self-Ignorance
9. Individualism

The two that are probably unfamiliar are self-ignorance and individualism. The opposite of self-ignorance is mindfulness. How aware of your body are you? How aware of your friends’ situations are you? Do you know what’s bothering them or are you stuck in your own world of concern?

The opposite of individualism is what we might call coachability. What’s at stake is part of what the Aztecs called the bowing of the head, or humility (FC 6.20, 106). Ask yourself: am I the sort of person who resists the advice of other people? Do I even resist the advice of those who have an established track record for success? Will I try out something new, even if it feels awkward or unnatural at first?

Second, identify a problem area. For Dave, it was publishing a lot. In my own case, a friend from another university and I realized that we had slid some distance from the physical shape we once had. So to motivate each other to get in better shape, we agreed to a bet to see who could get a six-pack the fastest. I then had the (delusional?) ambition of getting into much better shape quickly.

Finally, pit the stronger vice against the weaker one that is the source of your difficulty. Dave pitted vanity against his sloth and apparently, it worked out just fine.

Since getting a six-pack is mostly about diet, my goal was to pit vanity against gluttony. Things didn’t work out as planned though. Neither viewing myself in the mirror, nor shame at losing a bet was going to get me into better shape.

So I switched tactics to use sloth instead — along with a little help from my wife. Since she does the food shopping, I simply asked her not to buy anything that could tempt me.

While I have no problem doing boring work, driving four minutes away to buy junk food during a hunger craving just feels like too much effort for me. What I’ve discovered is that I have a form of situationally specific sloth when it comes to those sorts of practical affairs. And in this case, I planned to use it to my advantage.

In the end, neither of us got back into shape worthy of Men’s Health magazine, but we did improve dramatically. I suppose you could say I “won,” but that was never really the goal and we just bought each other beers in the end.

The take-away from my story is that in the third step, you might have to experiment a bit with your vices.

How Vice Management Will Shift Your Life

Professionally, I study the world’s global traditions of philosophy for a reason: I don’t think that one single tradition has all the answers to life’s problems.

In another article, I wrote about the hardest daily exercise that the Stoics ask of you — it’s a special kind of courage. In this one, I’ve developed concepts about virtue and vice that appear never to have been recorded in any philosophy from ancient Greece or Rome.

Vice management is made logically possible for the Aztecs because they recognized that there could be virtues of shared agency. These actions are structured through ritual activity and good relationships. The upshot is that other people, and even our deliberately arranged circumstances, can aid us in living better without bettering our characters.

To practice this insight in the way that is closest to the Aztecs, you need to develop the right kinds of relationships with your partner, friends, and family. They have to be aware of your goals, so you will need to communicate well with them, and you have to prove yourself willing to accept their help when offered.

To practice this insight in a more individual way, you can try pitting your stronger vices against your weaker ones to get the outcome you desire. Experience shows that to be successful, you might need to experiment a little to get the right combination.

It’s easy to understand the value of this approach. Most attempts at self-improvement fail because they require that you change your character for the long term. It’s why life coaches frame their advice in terms of a lifestyle change. And that’s hard.

Vice management doesn’t require you to change your lifestyle and that’s its key advantage.

It starts with the premise that you have flaws and that those flaws are stable and enduring traits about you. After that initial bruise to your ego, you just have to arrange your circumstances and relationships to take advantage of those flaws. That’s usually easier than you think.

So how much is making real progress worth to you? What would you be willing to pay to get just halfway to your top three goals? Tony Robbins apparently charges $14,500 for one year of life coaching.

Rather than a year, you can implement these changes in a day. And rather than $14,500, following the Aztec path is free.

I’ll leave you with a final quote, taken from the Discourses of the Elders. In this passage, a father is talking to his infant son, coaching him on life advice.

My blood, my color, we have forged you, given you form. And now I am charged to take care of you. [Although you are precious,] may you not be only like precious metal … For you have come to the earth without judgment, but perhaps you will gain it yet (H 57, 334).

I hope you learned something and thank you for reading.

For more philosophy as a way of life, using all of the world’s traditions, join my newsletter.

Sebastian Purcell’s research specializes in world comparative philosophy, especially as these ancient traditions teach us how to lead happier, richer lives. He lives with his wife, a fellow philosopher, and their three cats in upstate New York.