ARISTÓTELES
(384 - 322 A.C) - Continuação Parte I
Aristotle: Motion and its Place in Nature
Aristotle’s account of motion can be found in
the Physics. By motion,
Aristotle (384-322 B.C.E.) understands any kind of change. He defines
motion as the actuality of a potentiality. Initially, Aristotle's definition
seems to involve a contradiction. However, commentators on the works of
Aristotle, such as St. Thomas Aquinas, maintain that this is the
only way to define motion.
In order to adequately understand Aristotle's
definition of motion it is necessary to understand what he means by actuality
and potentiality. Aristotle uses the words energeia and entelechia
interchangeably to describe a kind of action. A linguistic analysis shows that,
by actuality, Aristotle means both energeia,
which means being-at-work, and entelechia,
which means being-at-an-end. These two words, although they have different
meanings, function as synonyms in Aristotle's scheme. For Aristotle, to be a
thing in the world is to be at work, to belong to a particular species, to act
for an end and to form material into enduring organized wholes. Actuality, for
Aristotle, is therefore close in meaning to what it is to be alive, except it
does not carry the implication of mortality.
From the Middle Ages to modern times, commentators
disagreed on the interpretation of Aristotle’s account of motion. An accurate
rendering of Aristotle's definition must include apparently inconsistent
propositions: (a) that motion is rest, and (b) that a potentiality, which must
be, if anything, a privation of actuality, is at the same time that actuality
of which it is the lack. St. Thomas Aquinas was prepared to take these
propositions seriously. St. Thomas
observes that to say that something is in motion is just to say that it is both
what it is already and something else that it is not yet. Accordingly, motion
is the mode in which the future belongs to the present, it is the present
absence of just those particular absent things which are about to be. St. Thomas thus resolves
the apparent contradiction between potentiality and actuality in Aristotle's
definition of motion by arguing that in every motion actuality and potentiality
are mixed or blended.
St. Thomas’ interpretation
of Aristotle's definition of motion, however, is not free of difficulties. His
interpretation seems to trivialize the meaning of entelechia. One implication of this
interpretation is that whatever happens to be the case right now is an entelechia, as though something which is
intrinsically unstable as the instantaneous position of an arrow in flight
deserved to be described by the word which Aristotle everywhere else reserves
for complex organized states which persist, which hold out in being against
internal and external causes tending to destroy them.
In the Metaphysics,
however, Aristotle draws a distinction between two kinds of potentiality. On
the one hand, there are latent or inactive potentialities. On the other hand,
there are active or at-work potentialities. Accordingly, every motion is a
complex whole, an enduring unity which organizes distinct parts. Things have
being to the extent that they are or are part of determinate wholes, so that to
be means to be something, and change has being because it always is or is part
of some determinate potentiality, at work and manifest in the world as change.
Table of Contents
- Introduction
- Energeia and Entelechia
- The Standard Account of Aristotle's View of Motion
- Thomas' Account of Aristotle's View of Motion
- The Limits of Thomas' Account
- Facing the Contradictions of Aristotle's Account of Motion
- What Motion Is
- Zeno's Paradoxes and Aristotle's Definition of Motion
- References and Further Reading
1. Introduction
Aristotle defines motion, by which he means change of
any kind, as the actuality of a potentiality as such (or as movable, or as a
potentiality -- Physics
201a 10-11, 27-29, b 4-5). The definition is a conjunction of two terms which
normally contradict each other, along with, in Greek, a qualifying clause which
seems to make the contradiction inescapable. Yet St. Thomas Aquinas called it
the only possible way to define motion by what is prior to and better known
than motion. At the opposite extreme is the young Descartes, who in the first
book he wrote announced that while everyone knows what motion is, no one
understands Aristotle's definition of it. According to Descartes, "motion
. . . is nothing more than the action by which any body passes from one place
to another" (Principles II, 24). The use of the word "passes"
makes this definition an obvious circle; Descartes might just as well have
called motion the action by which a thing moves. But the important part of
Descartes' definition is the words "nothing more than," by which he
asserts that motion is susceptible of no definition which is not circular, as
one might say "the color red is just the color red," to mean that the
term is not reducible to some modification of a wave, or analyzable in any
other way. There must be ultimate terms of discourse, or there would be no
definitions, and indeed no thought. The point is not that one cannot construct
a non-circular definition of such a term, one claimed to be properly
irreducible, but that one ought not to do so. The true atoms of discourse are
those things which can be explained only by means of things less known than
themselves. If motion is such an ultimate term, then to define it by means of
anything but synonyms is willfully to choose to dwell in a realm of darkness,
at the sacrifice of the understanding which is naturally ours in the form of
"good sense" or ordinary common sense.
Descartes' treatment of motion is explicitly
anti-Aristotelian and his definition of motion is deliberately circular. The
Cartesian physics is rooted in a disagreement with Aristotle about what the
best-known things are, and about where thought should take its beginnings. There
is, however, a long tradition of interpretation and translation of Aristotle's
definition of motion, beginning at least five hundred years before Descartes
and dominating discussions of Aristotle today, which seeks to have things both
ways. An unusually clear instance of this attitude is found in the following
sentence from a medieval Arabic commentary: "Motion is a first entelechy
of that which is in potentiality, insofar as it is in potentiality, and if you
prefer you may say that it is a transition from potentiality to
actuality." You will recognize the first of these two statements presented
as equivalent as a translation of Aristotle's definition, and the second as a
circular definition of the same type as that of Descartes. Motion is an
entelechy; motion is a transition. The strangeness of the word
"entelechy" masks the contradiction between these two claims. We must
achieve an understanding of Aristotle's word entelechia, the heart of his definition of motion, in order
to see that what it says cannot be said just as well by such a word as
"transition."
2. Energeia and Entelechia
The word entelecheia
was invented by Aristotle, but never defined by him. It is at the heart not
only of his definition of motion, but of all his thought. Its meaning is the
most knowable in itself of all possible objects of the intellect. There is no
starting point from which we can descend to put together the cements of its
meaning. We can come to an understanding of entelecheia only by an ascent from what is intrinsically
less knowable than it, indeed knowable only through it, but more known because
more familiar to us. We have a number of resources by which to begin such an
ascent, drawing upon the linguistic elements out of which Aristotle constructed
the word, and upon the fact that he uses the wordenergeia as a synonym, or all but a synonym, for entelecheia.
The root of energeia
is ergonó deed, work,
or actó from which comes
the adjective energon used
in ordinary speech to mean active, busy, or at work. Energeia is formed by the addition of a
noun ending to the adjective energon;
we might construct the word is-at-work-ness from Anglo-Saxon roots to translateenergeia into English, or use the more
euphonious periphrastic expression, being-at-work. If we are careful to
remember how we got there, we could alternatively use Latin roots to make the
word "actuality" to translate energeia.
The problem with this alternative is that the word "actuality"
already belongs to the English language, and has a life of its own which seems
to be at variance with the simple sense of being active. By the actuality of a
thing, we mean not its being-in-action but its being what it is. For example,
there is a fish with an effective means of camouflage: it looks like a rock but
it is actually a fish. When
an actuality is attributed to that fish, completely at rest at the bottom of
the ocean, we don't seem to be talking about any activity. But according to
Aristotle, to be something always means to be at work in a certain way. In the
case of the fish at rest, its actuality is the activity of metabolism, the work
by which it is constantly transforming material from its environment into parts
of itself and losing material from itself into its environment, the activity by
which the fish maintains itself as a fish and as just the fish it is, and which
ceases only when the fish ceases to be. Any static state which has any
determinate character can only exist as the outcome of a continuous expenditure
of effort, maintaining the state as it is. Thus even the rock, at rest next to
the fish, is in activity: to be a rock is to strain to be at the center of the
universe, and thus to be in motion unless constrained otherwise, as the rock in
our example is constrained by the large quantity of earth already gathered
around the center of the universe. A rock at rest at the center is at work
maintaining its place, against the counter-tendency of all the earth to
displace it. The center of the universe is determined only by the common innate
activity of rocks and other kinds of earth. Nothing is which is not somehow in
action, maintaining itself either as the whole it is, or as a part of some
whole. A rock is inorganic only when regarded in isolation from the universe as
a whole which is an organized whole just as blood considered by itself could
not be called alive yet is only blood insofar as it contributes to the
maintenance of some organized body. No existing rock can fail to contribute to
the hierarchical organization of the universe; we can therefore call any
existing rock an actual rock.
Energeia, then, always means the being-at-work of some
definite, specific something; the rock cannot undergo metabolism, and once the
fish does no more than fall to earth and remain there it is no longer a fish. The
material and organization of a thing determine a specific capacity or
potentiality for activity with respect to which the corresponding activity has
the character of an end (telos).
Aristotle says "the act is an end and the being-at-work is the act and
since energeia is named
from the ergon it also
extends to the being-at-an-end (entelecheia)"
(Metaphysics 1050a 21-23). The
word entelecheia has a
structure parallel to that of energeia.
From the root word telos,
meaning end, comes the adjective enteles,
used in ordinary speech to mean complete, perfect, or full-grown. But
while energeia,
being-at-work, is made from the adjective meaning at work and a noun
ending, entelecheia is
made from the adjective meaning complete and the verb exein. Thus if we translate entelecheia as "completeness"
or "perfection," the contribution the meaning of exein makes to the term is not evident. Aristotle
probably uses exein for
two reasons which lead to the same conclusion: First, one of the common
meanings of exein is
"to be" in the sense of to remain, to stay, or to keep in some
condition specified by a preceding adverb as in the idiomskalos exei, "things are going
well," or kakos exei,
"things are going badly." It means "to be" in the sense of
to continue to be. This is only one of several possible meanings of exein, but there is a second fact which
makes it likely that it is the meaning which would strike the ear of a
Greek-speaking person of Aristotle's time. There was then in ordinary use the
word endelecheia,
differing from Aristotle's wordentelecheia
only by a delta in place of the tau. Endelecheia
means continuity or persistence. As one would expect, there was a good deal of
confusion in ancient times between the invented and undefined term entelecheia and the familiar word endelecheia. The use of the pun for the
serious philosophic purpose of saying at once two things for whose union the
language has no word was a frequent literary device of Aristotle's teacher
Plato. In this striking instance, Aristotle seems to have imitated the playful
style of his teacher in constructing the most important term in his technical
vocabulary. The addition ofexein
to enteles, through the
joint action of the meaning of the suffix and the sound of the whole,
superimposes upon the sense of "completeness" that of
continuity. Entelecheia
means continuing in a state of completeness, or being at an end which is of
such a nature that it is only possible to be there by means of the continual
expenditure of the effort required to stay there. Just as energeia extends toentelecheia because it is the activity
which makes a thing what it is, entelecheia
extends to energeiabecause
it is the end or perfection which has being only in, through, and during
activity. For the remainder of this entry, the word "actuality"
translates both energeia
and entelecheia, and
"actuality" means just that area of overlap between being-at-work and
being-at-an-end which expresses what it means to be something determinate. The
words energeia and entelecheia have very different meanings,
but function as synonyms because the world is such that things have identities,
belong to species, act for ends, and form material into enduring organized
wholes. The word actuality as thus used is very close in meaning to the word
life, with the exception that it is broader in meaning, carrying no necessary
implication of mortality.
Kosman [1969] interprets the definition in
substantially the same way as it is interpreted above, utilizing examples of
kinds of entelecheia given
by Aristotle in On the Soul,
and thus he succeeds in bypassing the inadequate translations of the word. The
Sachs 1995 translation of Aristotle's Physics
translatesentelecheia as
being-at-work-staying-itself.
3. The Standard Account of Aristotle's View of Motion
We embarked on this quest for the meaning of entelecheia in order to decide whether
the phrase "transition to actuality" could ever properly render it. The
answer is now obviously "no." An actuality is something ongoing, but
only the ongoing activity of maintaining a state of completeness or perfection
already reached; the transition into such a state always lacks and progressively
approaches the perfected character which an actuality always has. A dog is not
a puppy: the one is, among other things, capable of generating puppies and
giving protection, while the other is incapable of generation and in need of
protection. We might have trouble deciding exactly when the puppy has ceased to
be a puppy and become a dog at the age of one year, for example, it will
probably be fully grown and capable of reproducing, but still awkward in its
movements and puppyish in its attitudes, but in any respect in which it has
become a dog it has ceased to be a puppy.
But our concern was to understand what motion is, and
it is obviously the puppy which is in motion, since it is growing toward
maturity, while the dog is not in motion in that respect, since its activity
has ceased to produce change and become wholly directed toward
self-maintenance. If the same thing cannot be in the same respect both an
actuality and a transition to actuality, it is clearly the transition that motion is, and the actuality
that it isn't. It seems that Descartes is right and Aristotle is wrong. Of
course it is possible that Aristotle meant what Descartes said, but simply used
the wrong word, that he called motion anentelecheia
three times, at the beginning, middle, and end of his explanation of what
motion is, when he really meant not entelecheia
but the transition or passage to entelecheia.
Now, this suggestion would be laughable if it were not what almost everyone who
addresses the question today believes. Sir David Ross, certainly the most
massively qualified authority on Aristotle of those who have lived in our
century and written in our language, the man who supervised the Oxford
University Press's forty-five year project of translating all the works of
Aristotle into English, in a commentary, on Aristotle's definition of motion,
writes: "entelecheia must
here mean 'actualization,' not 'actuality'; it is the passage to actuality that
iskinesis" (Physics, text with commentary, London,
1936, p. 359). In another book, his commentary on the Metaphysics, Ross makes it clear that he
regards the meaning entelecheia
has in every use Aristotle makes of it everywhere but in the definition of
motion as being not only other than but incompatible with the meaning
"actualization." In view of that fact, Ross' decision that "entelecheia must here mean
'actualization'" is a desperate one, indicating a despair of understanding
Aristotle out of his own mouth. It is not translation or interpretation but
plastic surgery.
Ross' full account of motion as actualization (Aristotle, New York, 1966, pp. 81-82)
cites no passages from Aristotle, and no authorities, but patiently explains
that motion is motion and cannot, therefore, be an actuality. There are
authorities he could have cited, including Moses Maimonides, the twelfth
century Jewish philosopher who sought to reconcile Aristotle's philosophy with
the Old Testament and Talmud, and who defined motion as "the transition
from potentiality to actuality," and the most famous Aristotelian commentator
of all time, Averroes, the twelfth century Spanish Muslim thinker, who called
motion a passage from non-being to actuality and complete reality. In each case
the circular definition is chosen in preference to the one which seems laden
with contradictions. A circular statement, to the extent that it is circular,
is at least not false, and can as a whole have some content: Descartes'
definition amounts to saying "whatever motion is, it is possible only with
respect to place," and that of Averroes, Maimonides, and Ross amounts to
saying "whatever motion is, it results always in an actuality." An
accurate rendering of Aristotle's definition would amount to saying (a) that
motion is rest, and (b) that a potentiality, which must be, at a minimum, a
privation of actuality, is at the same time that actuality of which it is the
lack. There has been one major commentator on Aristotle who was prepared to
take seriously and to make sense of both these claims.
4. Thomas' Account of Aristotle's View of Motion
St. Thomas Aquinas, in his interpretation of
Aristotle's definition of motion, (Commentary
on Aristotle's Physics, London, 1963, pp. 136-137), observes two
principles: (1) that Aristotle meant what he wrote, and (2) that what Aristotle
wrote is worth the effort of understanding. Writing a century after Maimonides
and Averroes, Thomas disposes of their approach to defining motion with few
words: it is not Aristotle's definition and it is an error. A passage, a
transition, an actualization, an actualizing, or any of the more complex
substantives to which translators have resorted which incorporate in some more
or less disguised form some progressive sense united to the meaning of
actuality, all have in common that they denote a kind of motion. If motion can
be defined, then to rest content with explaining motion as a kind of motion is
certainly to err; even if one is to reject Aristotle's definition on
fundamental philosophical grounds, as Descartes was to do, the first step must
be to see what it means. And Thomas explains clearly and simply a sense in
which Aristotle's definition is both free of contradiction and genuinely a
definition of motion. One must simply see that the growing puppy is a dog, that the half formed lump of
bronze on which the sculptor is working is
a statue of Hermes, that the tepid water on the fire is hot; what it means to say that the puppy is growing,
the bronze is being worked, or the water is being heated, is that each is not
just the complex of characteristics it possesses right now; in each case,
something that the thing is not yet, already belongs to it as that toward which
it is, right now, ordered. To say that something is in motion is just to say
that it is both what it is
already and something else that it isn't yet. What else do we mean by saying
that the puppy is growing, rather than remaining what it is, that the bronze
under the sculptor's hand is in a different condition from the identically
shaped lump of bronze he has discarded, or that the water is not just tepid but
being heated? Motion is the mode in which the future belongs to the present, is
the present absence of just those particular absent things which are about to
be.
Thomas discusses in detail the example of the water
being heated. Assume it to have started cold, and to have been heated so far to
room temperature. The heat it now has, which has replaced the potentiality it
previously had to be just that hot, belongs to it in actuality. The capacity it
has to be still hotter belongs to it in potentiality. To the extent that it is
actually hot it has been moved; to the extent that it is not yet as hot as it
is going to be, it is not yet moved. The motion is just the joint presence of potentiality and actuality with
respect to same thing, in this case heat.
In Thomas' version of Aristotle's definition one can
see the alternative to Descartes' approach to physics. Since Descartes regards
motion as ultimate and given, his physics will give no account of motion
itself, but describe the transient static configurations through which the
moving things pass. By Thomas' account, motion is not ultimate but is a
consequence of the way in which present states of things are ordered toward
other actualities which do not belong to them. One could build on such an
account a physics of forces, that is, of those directed potentialities which
cause a thing to move, to pass over from the actuality it possesses to another
which it lacks but to which it is ordered. Motion will thus not have to be
understood as the mysterious departure of things from rest, which alone can be
described, but as the outcome of the action upon one another of divergent and
conflicting innate tendencies of things. Rest will be the anomaly, since things
will be understood as so constituted by nature as to pass over of themselves
into certain states of activity, but states of rest will be explainable as
dynamic states of balance among things with opposed tendencies. Leibniz, who
criticized Descartes' physics and invented a science of dynamics, explicitly
acknowledged his debt to Aristotle (see, e.g., Specimen Dynamicum), whose doctrine of entelecheia he regarded himself as
restoring in a modified form. From Leibniz we derive our current notions of
potential and kinetic energy, whose very names, pointing to the actuality which
is potential and the actuality which is motion, preserve the Thomistic
resolutions of the two paradoxes in Aristotle's definition of motion.
5. The Limits of Thomas' Account
But though the modern science of dynamics can be seen
in germ in St. Thomas' discussion of motion, it can be seen also to reveal
difficulties in Thomas' conclusions. According to Thomas, actuality and
potentiality do not exclude one another but co-exist as motion. To the extent
that an actuality is also a potentiality it is a motion, and to the extent that
an actuality is a motion it is a potentiality. The two seeming contradictions
cancel each other in the dynamic actuality of the present state which is
determined by its own future. But are not potential and kinetic energy two
different things? A rock held six feet above the ground has been actually moved
identically to the rock thrown six feet above the ground, and at that distance
each strains identically to fall to earth; but the one is falling and the other
isn't. How can the description which is common to both, when one is moving and
the other is at rest, be an account of what motion is? It seems that everything
which Thomas says about the tepid water which is being heated can be said also
of the tepid water which has been removed from the fire. Each is a coincidence
of a certain actuality of heat with a further potentiality to the same heat. What
does it mean to say that the water on the fire has, right now, an order to
further heat which the water off the fire lacks? If we say that the fire is
acting on the one and not on the other in such a way as to disturb its present
state, we have begged the question and returned to the position of presupposing
motion to explain motion. Thomas' account of Aristotle's definition of motion,
though immeasurably superior to that of Sir David Ross as interpretation, and
far more sophisticated as an approach to and specification of the conditions an
account of motion would have to meet, seems ultimately subject to the same
circularity. Maimonides, Averroes, and Ross fail to say how motion differs from
rest. Thomas fails to say how any given motion differs from a corresponding
state of balanced tension, or of strain and constraint.
The strength of Thomas' interpretation of the
definition of motion comes from his taking every word seriously. When Ross
discusses Aristotle's definition, he gives no indication of why the he toiouton, or "insofar as it is
such," clause should have been included. By Thomas' account, motion is the
actuality of any potentiality which is nevertheless still a potentiality. It is
the actuality which has not canceled its corresponding potentiality but exists
along with it. Motion then is the actuality of any potentiality insofar as it
is still a potentiality. This is the formula which applies equally well to the
dynamic state of rest and the dynamic state of motion. We shall try to advance
our understanding by being still more careful about the meaning of the
pronoun he.
Thomas' account of the meaning of Aristotle's
definition forces him to construe the grammar of the definition in such a way
that the clause introduced by the dative singular feminine relative
pronoun he has as its
antecedent, in two cases, the neuter participle tou ontos, and in the third, the neuter
substantive adjective tou dunatou.
It is true that this particular feminine relative pronoun often had an
adverbial sense to which its gender was irrelevant, but in the three statements
of the definition of motion there is no verb but estin. If the clause is understood adverbially,
then, the sentence must mean something like: if motion is a potentiality, it is
the actuality of a potentiality. Whatever that might mean, it could at any rate
not be a definition of motion. Thus the clause must be understood adjectivally,
and Thomas must make the relative pronoun dependent upon a word with which it
does not agree in gender. He makes the sentence say that motion is the
actuality of the potentiality in which there is yet potentiality. Reading the
pronoun as dependent upon the feminine noun entelecheia with which it does agree, we find the sentence
saying that motion is the actuality as
which it is a potentiality of the potentiality, or the
actuality as a
potentiality of the potentiality.
6. Facing the Contradictions of Aristotle's Account of Motion
This reading of the definition implies that
potentialities exist in two ways, that it is possible to be a potentiality, yet not be an actual potentiality. The beginning of
this entry says that Aristotle's definition of motion was made by putting
together two terms, actuality and potentiality, which normally contradict each
other. Thomas resolved the contradiction by arguing that in every motion
actuality and potentiality are mixed or blended, that the condition of
becoming-hot of the water is just the simultaneous presence in the same water
of some actuality of heat and some remaining potentiality of heat. Earlier it
was stated that there was a qualifying clause in Aristotle's definition which
seemed to intensify, rather than relieve, the contradiction. This refers to
the he toiouton, or he kineton, or he dunaton, which appears in each version
of the definition, and which, being grammatically dependent on entelecheia, signifies something the very
actuality of which is potentiality. The Thomistic blend of actuality and
potentiality has the characteristic that, to the extent that it is actual it is
not potential and to the extent that it is potential it is not actual; the
hotter the water is, the less is it potentially hot, and the cooler it is, the
less is it actually, the more potentially, hot.
The most serious defect in Saint Thomas'
interpretation of Aristotle's definition is that, like Ross' interpretation, it
broadens, dilutes, cheapens, and trivializes the meaning of the word entelecheia. An immediate implication of
the interpretations of both Thomas and Ross is that whatever happens to be the
case right now is an entelecheia,
as though being at 70 degrees Fahrenheit were an end determined by the nature
of water, or as though something which is intrinsically so unstable as the
instantaneous position of an arrow in flight deserved to be described by the
word which Aristotle everywhere else reserves for complex organized states
which persist, which hold out in being against internal and external causes
tending to destroy them.
Aristotle's definition of motion applies to any and
every motion: the pencil falling to the floor, the white pages in the book
turning yellow, the glue in the binding of the book being eaten by insects. Maimonides,
Averroes, and Ross, who say that motion is always a transition or passage from
potentiality to actuality, must call the being-on-the-floor of the pencil, the
being-yellow of the pages, and the crumbled condition of the binding of the
book actualities. Thomas, who says that motion is constituted at any moment by
the joint presence of actuality and potentiality, is in a still worse position:
he must call every position of the pencil on the way to the floor, every color
of the pages on the way to being yellow, and every loss of a crumb from the
binding an actuality. If these are actualities, then it is no wonder that
philosophers such as Descartes rejected Aristotle's account of motion as a
useless redundancy, saying no more than that whatever changes, changes into that
into which it changes.
We know however that the things Aristotle called actualities are limited in number, and
constitute the world in its ordered finitude rather than in its random
particularity. The actuality of the adult horse is one, although horses are
many and all different from each other. Books and pencils are not actualities
at all, even though they are organized wholes, since their organizations are
products of human art, and they maintain themselves not as books and pencils
but only as earth. Even the organized content of a book, such as that of the
first three chapters of Book Three of Aristotle's Physics, does not exist as an actuality,
since it is only the new labor of each new reader that gives being to that
content, in this case a very difficult labor. By this strict test, the only
actualities in the world, that is, the only things which, by their own innate
tendencies, maintain themselves in being as organized wholes, seem to be the
animals and plants, the ever-the-same orbits of the ever-moving planets, and
the universe as a whole. But Aristotle has said that every motion is an entelecheia; if we choose not to
trivialize the meaning of entelecheia
to make it applicable to motion, we must deepen our understanding of motion to
make it applicable to the meaning of entelecheia.
7. What Motion Is
In the Metaphysics,
Aristotle argues that if there is a distinction between potentiality and
actuality at all, there must be a distinction between two kinds of
potentiality. The man with sight, but with his eyes closed, differs from the
blind man, although neither is seeing. The first man has the capacity to see,
which the second man lacks. There are then potentialities as well as
actualities in the world. But when the first man opens his eyes, has he lost
the capacity to see? Obviously not; while he is seeing, his capacity to see is
no longer merely a potentiality, but is a potentiality which has been put to
work. The potentiality to see exists sometimes as active or at-work, and
sometimes as inactive or latent. But this example seems to get us no closer to
understanding motion, since seeing is just one of those activities which is not
a motion. Let us consider, then, a man's capacity to walk across the room. When
he is sitting or standing or lying still, his capacity to walk is latent, like
the sight of the man with his eyes closed; that capacity nevertheless has real
being, distinguishing the man in question from a man who is crippled to the
extent of having lost all potentiality to walk. When the man is walking across
the room, his capacity to walk has been put to work. But while he is walking,
what has happened to his capacity to be
at the other side of the room, which was also latent before he began to walk? It
too is a potentiality which has been put to work by the act of walking. Once he
has reached the other side of the room, his potentiality to be there has been
actualized in Ross' sense of the term, but while he is walking, his
potentiality to be on the other side of the room is not merely latent, and is
not yet canceled by, an actuality in the weak sense, the so-called actuality of
being on that other side of the room; while
he is walking his potentiality to be on the other side of the room is actual
just as a potentiality. The actuality of the potentiality to be on
the other side of the room, as just that potentiality, is neither more nor less
than the walking across the room.
A similar analysis will apply to any motion whatever. The
growth of the puppy is not the actualization of its potentiality to be a dog,
but the actuality of that potentiality as a potentiality. The falling of the
pencil is the actuality of its potentiality to be on the floor, in actuality as
just that: as a potentiality
to be on the floor. In each case the motion is just the potentiality qua actual and the actuality qua potential. And the sense we thus give
to the word entelecheia is
not at odds with its other uses: a motion is like an animal in that it remains
completely and exactly what it is through time. My walking across the room is
no more a motion as the last step is being taken than at any earlier point. Every
motion is a complex whole, an enduring unity which organizes distinct parts,
such as the various positions through which the falling pencil passes. As parts
of the motion of the pencil, these positions, though distinct, function
identically in the ordered continuity determined by the potentiality of the
pencil to be on the floor. Things have being to the extent that they are or are
part of determinate wholes, so that to be means to be something, and change has
being because it always is or is part of some determinate potentiality, at work
and manifest in the world as change.
8. Zeno's Paradoxes and Aristotle's Definition of Motion
Consider the application of Aristotle's account of
motion to two paradoxes famous in antiquity. Zeno argued in various
ways that there is no motion. According to one of his arguments, the arrow in
flight is always in some one place, therefore always at rest, and therefore
never in motion. We can deduce from Aristotle's definition that Zeno has made
the same error, technically called the fallacy of composition, as one who would
argue that no animal is alive since its head, when cut off, is not alive, its
blood, when drawn out, is not alive, its bones, when removed are not alive, and
so on with each part in turn. The second paradox is one attributed to Heraclitus, and taken as
proving that there is nothing but motion, that is, no identity, in the world. The
saying goes that one cannot step into the same river twice. If the river flows,
how can it continue to be itself? But the flux of the river, like the flight of
the arrow, is an actuality of just the kind Aristotle formulates in his
definition of motion. The river is always the same, as a river, precisely because it is never
the same as water. To be a river is to be the always identical actuality of the
potentiality of water to be in the sea.
For more discussion of Aristotle's solution to Zeno's
paradoxes, see "Zeno: Aristotle's Treatment of Zeno's Paradoxes."
9. References and Further Reading
- Aristotle, Metaphysics, Joe Sachs (trans.), Green Lion Press, 1999.
- Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Joe Sachs (trans.), Focus Philosophical Library, Pullins Press, 2002.
- Aristotle, On the Soul, Joe Sachs (trans.), Green Lion Press, 2001.
- Aristotle, Poetics, Joe Sachs (trans.), Focus Philosophical Library, Pullins Press, 2006.
- Aristotle, Physics, Joe Sachs (trans.), Rutgers U. P., 1995.
- Kosman, L. A. "Aristotle's Definition of Motion," Phronesis, 1969.
Author Information
Aristotle: Motion and its Place in Nature
Aristotle’s account of motion can be found in
the Physics. By motion,
Aristotle (384-322 B.C.E.) understands any kind of change. He defines
motion as the actuality of a potentiality. Initially, Aristotle's definition
seems to involve a contradiction. However, commentators on the works of
Aristotle, such as St. Thomas Aquinas, maintain that this is the
only way to define motion.
In order to adequately understand Aristotle's
definition of motion it is necessary to understand what he means by actuality
and potentiality. Aristotle uses the words energeia and entelechia
interchangeably to describe a kind of action. A linguistic analysis shows that,
by actuality, Aristotle means both energeia,
which means being-at-work, and entelechia,
which means being-at-an-end. These two words, although they have different
meanings, function as synonyms in Aristotle's scheme. For Aristotle, to be a
thing in the world is to be at work, to belong to a particular species, to act
for an end and to form material into enduring organized wholes. Actuality, for
Aristotle, is therefore close in meaning to what it is to be alive, except it
does not carry the implication of mortality.
From the Middle Ages to modern times, commentators
disagreed on the interpretation of Aristotle’s account of motion. An accurate
rendering of Aristotle's definition must include apparently inconsistent
propositions: (a) that motion is rest, and (b) that a potentiality, which must
be, if anything, a privation of actuality, is at the same time that actuality
of which it is the lack. St. Thomas Aquinas was prepared to take these
propositions seriously. St. Thomas observes that to say that something is in
motion is just to say that it is both what it is already and something else
that it is not yet. Accordingly, motion is the mode in which the future belongs
to the present, it is the present absence of just those particular absent
things which are about to be. St. Thomas thus resolves the apparent contradiction
between potentiality and actuality in Aristotle's definition of motion by
arguing that in every motion actuality and potentiality are mixed or blended.
St. Thomas’ interpretation of Aristotle's definition
of motion, however, is not free of difficulties. His interpretation seems to
trivialize the meaning of entelechia.
One implication of this interpretation is that whatever happens to be the case
right now is an entelechia,
as though something which is intrinsically unstable as the instantaneous position
of an arrow in flight deserved to be described by the word which Aristotle
everywhere else reserves for complex organized states which persist, which hold
out in being against internal and external causes tending to destroy them.
In the Metaphysics,
however, Aristotle draws a distinction between two kinds of potentiality. On
the one hand, there are latent or inactive potentialities. On the other hand,
there are active or at-work potentialities. Accordingly, every motion is a
complex whole, an enduring unity which organizes distinct parts. Things have
being to the extent that they are or are part of determinate wholes, so that to
be means to be something, and change has being because it always is or is part
of some determinate potentiality, at work and manifest in the world as change.
Table of Contents
- Introduction
- Energeia and Entelechia
- The Standard Account of Aristotle's View of Motion
- Thomas' Account of Aristotle's View of Motion
- The Limits of Thomas' Account
- Facing the Contradictions of Aristotle's Account of Motion
- What Motion Is
- Zeno's Paradoxes and Aristotle's Definition of Motion
- References and Further Reading
1. Introduction
Aristotle defines motion, by which he means change of
any kind, as the actuality of a potentiality as such (or as movable, or as a
potentiality -- Physics
201a 10-11, 27-29, b 4-5). The definition is a conjunction of two terms which
normally contradict each other, along with, in Greek, a qualifying clause which
seems to make the contradiction inescapable. Yet St. Thomas Aquinas called it
the only possible way to define motion by what is prior to and better known
than motion. At the opposite extreme is the young Descartes, who in the first
book he wrote announced that while everyone knows what motion is, no one
understands Aristotle's definition of it. According to Descartes, "motion
. . . is nothing more than the action by which any body passes from one place
to another" (Principles II, 24). The use of the word "passes"
makes this definition an obvious circle; Descartes might just as well have
called motion the action by which a thing moves. But the important part of
Descartes' definition is the words "nothing more than," by which he
asserts that motion is susceptible of no definition which is not circular, as
one might say "the color red is just the color red," to mean that the
term is not reducible to some modification of a wave, or analyzable in any
other way. There must be ultimate terms of discourse, or there would be no
definitions, and indeed no thought. The point is not that one cannot construct
a non-circular definition of such a term, one claimed to be properly
irreducible, but that one ought not to do so. The true atoms of discourse are
those things which can be explained only by means of things less known than
themselves. If motion is such an ultimate term, then to define it by means of
anything but synonyms is willfully to choose to dwell in a realm of darkness,
at the sacrifice of the understanding which is naturally ours in the form of
"good sense" or ordinary common sense.
Descartes' treatment of motion is explicitly
anti-Aristotelian and his definition of motion is deliberately circular. The
Cartesian physics is rooted in a disagreement with Aristotle about what the
best-known things are, and about where thought should take its beginnings. There
is, however, a long tradition of interpretation and translation of Aristotle's
definition of motion, beginning at least five hundred years before Descartes
and dominating discussions of Aristotle today, which seeks to have things both
ways. An unusually clear instance of this attitude is found in the following
sentence from a medieval Arabic commentary: "Motion is a first entelechy
of that which is in potentiality, insofar as it is in potentiality, and if you
prefer you may say that it is a transition from potentiality to
actuality." You will recognize the first of these two statements presented
as equivalent as a translation of Aristotle's definition, and the second as a
circular definition of the same type as that of Descartes. Motion is an
entelechy; motion is a transition. The strangeness of the word
"entelechy" masks the contradiction between these two claims. We must
achieve an understanding of Aristotle's word entelechia, the heart of his definition of motion, in order
to see that what it says cannot be said just as well by such a word as
"transition."
2. Energeia and Entelechia
The word entelecheia
was invented by Aristotle, but never defined by him. It is at the heart not
only of his definition of motion, but of all his thought. Its meaning is the
most knowable in itself of all possible objects of the intellect. There is no
starting point from which we can descend to put together the cements of its
meaning. We can come to an understanding of entelecheia only by an ascent from what is intrinsically
less knowable than it, indeed knowable only through it, but more known because
more familiar to us. We have a number of resources by which to begin such an
ascent, drawing upon the linguistic elements out of which Aristotle constructed
the word, and upon the fact that he uses the wordenergeia as a synonym, or all but a synonym, for entelecheia.
The root of energeia
is ergonó deed, work,
or actó from which comes
the adjective energon used
in ordinary speech to mean active, busy, or at work. Energeia is formed by the addition of a
noun ending to the adjective energon;
we might construct the word is-at-work-ness from Anglo-Saxon roots to translateenergeia into English, or use the more
euphonious periphrastic expression, being-at-work. If we are careful to
remember how we got there, we could alternatively use Latin roots to make the
word "actuality" to translate energeia.
The problem with this alternative is that the word "actuality"
already belongs to the English language, and has a life of its own which seems
to be at variance with the simple sense of being active. By the actuality of a
thing, we mean not its being-in-action but its being what it is. For example,
there is a fish with an effective means of camouflage: it looks like a rock but
it is actually a fish. When
an actuality is attributed to that fish, completely at rest at the bottom of
the ocean, we don't seem to be talking about any activity. But according to
Aristotle, to be something always means to be at work in a certain way. In the
case of the fish at rest, its actuality is the activity of metabolism, the work
by which it is constantly transforming material from its environment into parts
of itself and losing material from itself into its environment, the activity by
which the fish maintains itself as a fish and as just the fish it is, and which
ceases only when the fish ceases to be. Any static state which has any
determinate character can only exist as the outcome of a continuous expenditure
of effort, maintaining the state as it is. Thus even the rock, at rest next to
the fish, is in activity: to be a rock is to strain to be at the center of the
universe, and thus to be in motion unless constrained otherwise, as the rock in
our example is constrained by the large quantity of earth already gathered
around the center of the universe. A rock at rest at the center is at work
maintaining its place, against the counter-tendency of all the earth to
displace it. The center of the universe is determined only by the common innate
activity of rocks and other kinds of earth. Nothing is which is not somehow in
action, maintaining itself either as the whole it is, or as a part of some
whole. A rock is inorganic only when regarded in isolation from the universe as
a whole which is an organized whole just as blood considered by itself could
not be called alive yet is only blood insofar as it contributes to the
maintenance of some organized body. No existing rock can fail to contribute to
the hierarchical organization of the universe; we can therefore call any
existing rock an actual rock.
Energeia, then, always means the being-at-work of some
definite, specific something; the rock cannot undergo metabolism, and once the
fish does no more than fall to earth and remain there it is no longer a fish. The
material and organization of a thing determine a specific capacity or
potentiality for activity with respect to which the corresponding activity has
the character of an end (telos).
Aristotle says "the act is an end and the being-at-work is the act and
since energeia is named
from the ergon it also
extends to the being-at-an-end (entelecheia)"
(Metaphysics 1050a 21-23). The
word entelecheia has a
structure parallel to that of energeia.
From the root word telos,
meaning end, comes the adjective enteles,
used in ordinary speech to mean complete, perfect, or full-grown. But
while energeia,
being-at-work, is made from the adjective meaning at work and a noun
ending, entelecheia is
made from the adjective meaning complete and the verb exein. Thus if we translate entelecheia as "completeness"
or "perfection," the contribution the meaning of exein makes to the term is not evident. Aristotle
probably uses exein for
two reasons which lead to the same conclusion: First, one of the common
meanings of exein is
"to be" in the sense of to remain, to stay, or to keep in some
condition specified by a preceding adverb as in the idiomskalos exei, "things are going
well," or kakos exei,
"things are going badly." It means "to be" in the sense of
to continue to be. This is only one of several possible meanings of exein, but there is a second fact which
makes it likely that it is the meaning which would strike the ear of a
Greek-speaking person of Aristotle's time. There was then in ordinary use the
word endelecheia,
differing from Aristotle's wordentelecheia
only by a delta in place of the tau. Endelecheia
means continuity or persistence. As one would expect, there was a good deal of
confusion in ancient times between the invented and undefined term entelecheia and the familiar word endelecheia. The use of the pun for the
serious philosophic purpose of saying at once two things for whose union the
language has no word was a frequent literary device of Aristotle's teacher
Plato. In this striking instance, Aristotle seems to have imitated the playful
style of his teacher in constructing the most important term in his technical
vocabulary. The addition ofexein
to enteles, through the
joint action of the meaning of the suffix and the sound of the whole,
superimposes upon the sense of "completeness" that of
continuity. Entelecheia
means continuing in a state of completeness, or being at an end which is of
such a nature that it is only possible to be there by means of the continual
expenditure of the effort required to stay there. Just as energeia extends toentelecheia because it is the activity
which makes a thing what it is, entelecheia
extends to energeiabecause
it is the end or perfection which has being only in, through, and during
activity. For the remainder of this entry, the word "actuality"
translates both energeia
and entelecheia, and
"actuality" means just that area of overlap between being-at-work and
being-at-an-end which expresses what it means to be something determinate. The
words energeia and entelecheia have very different meanings,
but function as synonyms because the world is such that things have identities,
belong to species, act for ends, and form material into enduring organized
wholes. The word actuality as thus used is very close in meaning to the word
life, with the exception that it is broader in meaning, carrying no necessary
implication of mortality.
Kosman [1969] interprets the definition in
substantially the same way as it is interpreted above, utilizing examples of
kinds of entelecheia given
by Aristotle in On the Soul,
and thus he succeeds in bypassing the inadequate translations of the word. The
Sachs 1995 translation of Aristotle's Physics
translatesentelecheia as
being-at-work-staying-itself.
3. The Standard Account of Aristotle's View of Motion
We embarked on this quest for the meaning of entelecheia in order to decide whether
the phrase "transition to actuality" could ever properly render it. The
answer is now obviously "no." An actuality is something ongoing, but
only the ongoing activity of maintaining a state of completeness or perfection
already reached; the transition into such a state always lacks and
progressively approaches the perfected character which an actuality always has.
A dog is not a puppy: the one is, among other things, capable of generating
puppies and giving protection, while the other is incapable of generation and
in need of protection. We might have trouble deciding exactly when the puppy
has ceased to be a puppy and become a dog at the age of one year, for example,
it will probably be fully grown and capable of reproducing, but still awkward
in its movements and puppyish in its attitudes, but in any respect in which it
has become a dog it has ceased to be a puppy.
But our concern was to understand what motion is, and
it is obviously the puppy which is in motion, since it is growing toward
maturity, while the dog is not in motion in that respect, since its activity
has ceased to produce change and become wholly directed toward
self-maintenance. If the same thing cannot be in the same respect both an
actuality and a transition to actuality, it is clearly the transition that motion is, and the
actuality that it isn't. It seems that Descartes is right and Aristotle is
wrong. Of course it is possible that Aristotle meant what Descartes said, but
simply used the wrong word, that he called motion anentelecheia three times, at the beginning, middle, and end
of his explanation of what motion is, when he really meant not entelecheia but the transition or passage
to entelecheia. Now, this
suggestion would be laughable if it were not what almost everyone who addresses
the question today believes. Sir David Ross, certainly the most massively
qualified authority on Aristotle of those who have lived in our century and
written in our language, the man who supervised the Oxford University Press's
forty-five year project of translating all the works of Aristotle into English,
in a commentary, on Aristotle's definition of motion, writes: "entelecheia must here mean
'actualization,' not 'actuality'; it is the passage to actuality that iskinesis" (Physics, text with commentary, London,
1936, p. 359). In another book, his commentary on the Metaphysics, Ross makes it clear that he
regards the meaning entelecheia
has in every use Aristotle makes of it everywhere but in the definition of
motion as being not only other than but incompatible with the meaning
"actualization." In view of that fact, Ross' decision that "entelecheia must here mean 'actualization'"
is a desperate one, indicating a despair of understanding Aristotle out of his
own mouth. It is not translation or interpretation but plastic surgery.
Ross' full account of motion as actualization (Aristotle, New York, 1966, pp. 81-82)
cites no passages from Aristotle, and no authorities, but patiently explains
that motion is motion and cannot, therefore, be an actuality. There are
authorities he could have cited, including Moses Maimonides, the twelfth
century Jewish philosopher who sought to reconcile Aristotle's philosophy with
the Old Testament and Talmud, and who defined motion as "the transition
from potentiality to actuality," and the most famous Aristotelian
commentator of all time, Averroes, the twelfth century Spanish Muslim thinker,
who called motion a passage from non-being to actuality and complete reality. In
each case the circular definition is chosen in preference to the one which
seems laden with contradictions. A circular statement, to the extent that it is
circular, is at least not false, and can as a whole have some content:
Descartes' definition amounts to saying "whatever motion is, it is
possible only with respect to place," and that of Averroes, Maimonides,
and Ross amounts to saying "whatever motion is, it results always in an actuality."
An accurate rendering of Aristotle's definition would amount to saying (a) that
motion is rest, and (b) that a potentiality, which must be, at a minimum, a
privation of actuality, is at the same time that actuality of which it is the
lack. There has been one major commentator on Aristotle who was prepared to
take seriously and to make sense of both these claims.
4. Thomas' Account of Aristotle's View of Motion
St. Thomas Aquinas, in his interpretation of
Aristotle's definition of motion, (Commentary
on Aristotle's Physics, London, 1963, pp. 136-137), observes two
principles: (1) that Aristotle meant what he wrote, and (2) that what Aristotle
wrote is worth the effort of understanding. Writing a century after Maimonides
and Averroes, Thomas disposes of their approach to defining motion with few
words: it is not Aristotle's definition and it is an error. A passage, a
transition, an actualization, an actualizing, or any of the more complex
substantives to which translators have resorted which incorporate in some more
or less disguised form some progressive sense united to the meaning of
actuality, all have in common that they denote a kind of motion. If motion can
be defined, then to rest content with explaining motion as a kind of motion is
certainly to err; even if one is to reject Aristotle's definition on
fundamental philosophical grounds, as Descartes was to do, the first step must
be to see what it means. And Thomas explains clearly and simply a sense in
which Aristotle's definition is both free of contradiction and genuinely a
definition of motion. One must simply see that the growing puppy is a dog, that the half formed lump of
bronze on which the sculptor is working is
a statue of Hermes, that the tepid water on the fire is hot; what it means to say that the puppy is growing,
the bronze is being worked, or the water is being heated, is that each is not
just the complex of characteristics it possesses right now; in each case,
something that the thing is not yet, already belongs to it as that toward which
it is, right now, ordered. To say that something is in motion is just to say
that it is both what it is
already and something else that it isn't yet. What else do we mean by saying
that the puppy is growing, rather than remaining what it is, that the bronze
under the sculptor's hand is in a different condition from the identically
shaped lump of bronze he has discarded, or that the water is not just tepid but
being heated? Motion is the mode in which the future belongs to the present, is
the present absence of just those particular absent things which are about to
be.
Thomas discusses in detail the example of the water
being heated. Assume it to have started cold, and to have been heated so far to
room temperature. The heat it now has, which has replaced the potentiality it
previously had to be just that hot, belongs to it in actuality. The capacity it
has to be still hotter belongs to it in potentiality. To the extent that it is
actually hot it has been moved; to the extent that it is not yet as hot as it
is going to be, it is not yet moved. The motion is just the joint presence of potentiality and actuality with
respect to same thing, in this case heat.
In Thomas' version of Aristotle's definition one can
see the alternative to Descartes' approach to physics. Since Descartes regards
motion as ultimate and given, his physics will give no account of motion
itself, but describe the transient static configurations through which the
moving things pass. By Thomas' account, motion is not ultimate but is a consequence
of the way in which present states of things are ordered toward other
actualities which do not belong to them. One could build on such an account a
physics of forces, that is, of those directed potentialities which cause a
thing to move, to pass over from the actuality it possesses to another which it
lacks but to which it is ordered. Motion will thus not have to be understood as
the mysterious departure of things from rest, which alone can be described, but
as the outcome of the action upon one another of divergent and conflicting
innate tendencies of things. Rest will be the anomaly, since things will be
understood as so constituted by nature as to pass over of themselves into
certain states of activity, but states of rest will be explainable as dynamic
states of balance among things with opposed tendencies. Leibniz, who criticized
Descartes' physics and invented a science of dynamics, explicitly acknowledged
his debt to Aristotle (see, e.g., Specimen
Dynamicum), whose doctrine of entelecheia he regarded himself as restoring in a modified
form. From Leibniz we derive our current notions of potential and kinetic
energy, whose very names, pointing to the actuality which is potential and the
actuality which is motion, preserve the Thomistic resolutions of the two
paradoxes in Aristotle's definition of motion.
5. The Limits of Thomas' Account
But though the modern science of dynamics can be seen
in germ in St. Thomas' discussion of motion, it can be seen also to reveal
difficulties in Thomas' conclusions. According to Thomas, actuality and
potentiality do not exclude one another but co-exist as motion. To the extent
that an actuality is also a potentiality it is a motion, and to the extent that
an actuality is a motion it is a potentiality. The two seeming contradictions
cancel each other in the dynamic actuality of the present state which is
determined by its own future. But are not potential and kinetic energy two
different things? A rock held six feet above the ground has been actually moved
identically to the rock thrown six feet above the ground, and at that distance
each strains identically to fall to earth; but the one is falling and the other
isn't. How can the description which is common to both, when one is moving and
the other is at rest, be an account of what motion is? It seems that everything
which Thomas says about the tepid water which is being heated can be said also
of the tepid water which has been removed from the fire. Each is a coincidence
of a certain actuality of heat with a further potentiality to the same heat. What
does it mean to say that the water on the fire has, right now, an order to
further heat which the water off the fire lacks? If we say that the fire is
acting on the one and not on the other in such a way as to disturb its present
state, we have begged the question and returned to the position of presupposing
motion to explain motion. Thomas' account of Aristotle's definition of motion,
though immeasurably superior to that of Sir David Ross as interpretation, and
far more sophisticated as an approach to and specification of the conditions an
account of motion would have to meet, seems ultimately subject to the same
circularity. Maimonides, Averroes, and Ross fail to say how motion differs from
rest. Thomas fails to say how any given motion differs from a corresponding
state of balanced tension, or of strain and constraint.
The strength of Thomas' interpretation of the
definition of motion comes from his taking every word seriously. When Ross
discusses Aristotle's definition, he gives no indication of why the he toiouton, or "insofar as it is
such," clause should have been included. By Thomas' account, motion is the
actuality of any potentiality which is nevertheless still a potentiality. It is
the actuality which has not canceled its corresponding potentiality but exists
along with it. Motion then is the actuality of any potentiality insofar as it
is still a potentiality. This is the formula which applies equally well to the
dynamic state of rest and the dynamic state of motion. We shall try to advance
our understanding by being still more careful about the meaning of the
pronoun he.
Thomas' account of the meaning of Aristotle's
definition forces him to construe the grammar of the definition in such a way
that the clause introduced by the dative singular feminine relative
pronoun he has as its
antecedent, in two cases, the neuter participle tou ontos, and in the third, the neuter
substantive adjective tou dunatou.
It is true that this particular feminine relative pronoun often had an
adverbial sense to which its gender was irrelevant, but in the three statements
of the definition of motion there is no verb but estin. If the clause is understood
adverbially, then, the sentence must mean something like: if motion is a
potentiality, it is the actuality of a potentiality. Whatever that might mean,
it could at any rate not be a definition of motion. Thus the clause must be
understood adjectivally, and Thomas must make the relative pronoun dependent
upon a word with which it does not agree in gender. He makes the sentence say
that motion is the actuality of the potentiality in which there is yet
potentiality. Reading the pronoun as dependent upon the feminine noun entelecheia with which it does agree, we
find the sentence saying that motion is the actuality as which it is a potentiality of the
potentiality, or the actuality as
a potentiality of the potentiality.
6. Facing the Contradictions of Aristotle's Account of Motion
This reading of the definition implies that
potentialities exist in two ways, that it is possible to be a potentiality, yet not be an actual potentiality. The beginning of
this entry says that Aristotle's definition of motion was made by putting
together two terms, actuality and potentiality, which normally contradict each
other. Thomas resolved the contradiction by arguing that in every motion
actuality and potentiality are mixed or blended, that the condition of
becoming-hot of the water is just the simultaneous presence in the same water
of some actuality of heat and some remaining potentiality of heat. Earlier it
was stated that there was a qualifying clause in Aristotle's definition which
seemed to intensify, rather than relieve, the contradiction. This refers to
the he toiouton, or he kineton, or he dunaton, which appears in each version
of the definition, and which, being grammatically dependent on entelecheia, signifies something the very
actuality of which is potentiality. The Thomistic blend of actuality and
potentiality has the characteristic that, to the extent that it is actual it is
not potential and to the extent that it is potential it is not actual; the
hotter the water is, the less is it potentially hot, and the cooler it is, the
less is it actually, the more potentially, hot.
The most serious defect in Saint Thomas' interpretation of Aristotle's
definition is that, like Ross' interpretation, it broadens, dilutes, cheapens,
and trivializes the meaning of the word entelecheia.
An immediate implication of the interpretations of both Thomas and Ross is that
whatever happens to be the case right now is an entelecheia, as though being at 70
degrees Fahrenheit were an end determined by the nature of water, or as though
something which is intrinsically so unstable as the instantaneous position of
an arrow in flight deserved to be described by the word which Aristotle
everywhere else reserves for complex organized states which persist, which hold
out in being against internal and external causes tending to destroy them.
Aristotle's definition of motion applies to any and
every motion: the pencil falling to the floor, the white pages in the book
turning yellow, the glue in the binding of the book being eaten by insects. Maimonides,
Averroes, and Ross, who say that motion is always a transition or passage from
potentiality to actuality, must call the being-on-the-floor of the pencil, the
being-yellow of the pages, and the crumbled condition of the binding of the
book actualities. Thomas, who says that motion is constituted at any moment by
the joint presence of actuality and potentiality, is in a still worse position:
he must call every position of the pencil on the way to the floor, every color
of the pages on the way to being yellow, and every loss of a crumb from the
binding an actuality. If these are actualities, then it is no wonder that
philosophers such as Descartes rejected Aristotle's account of motion as a
useless redundancy, saying no more than that whatever changes, changes into
that into which it changes.
We know however that the things Aristotle called actualities are limited in number, and
constitute the world in its ordered finitude rather than in its random
particularity. The actuality of the adult horse is one, although horses are
many and all different from each other. Books and pencils are not actualities
at all, even though they are organized wholes, since their organizations are
products of human art, and they maintain themselves not as books and pencils
but only as earth. Even the organized content of a book, such as that of the
first three chapters of Book Three of Aristotle's Physics, does not exist as an actuality,
since it is only the new labor of each new reader that gives being to that
content, in this case a very difficult labor. By this strict test, the only
actualities in the world, that is, the only things which, by their own innate
tendencies, maintain themselves in being as organized wholes, seem to be the
animals and plants, the ever-the-same orbits of the ever-moving planets, and
the universe as a whole. But Aristotle has said that every motion is an entelecheia; if we choose not to
trivialize the meaning of entelecheia
to make it applicable to motion, we must deepen our understanding of motion to
make it applicable to the meaning of entelecheia.
7. What Motion Is
In the Metaphysics,
Aristotle argues that if there is a distinction between potentiality and
actuality at all, there must be a distinction between two kinds of
potentiality. The man with sight, but with his eyes closed, differs from the
blind man, although neither is seeing. The first man has the capacity to see,
which the second man lacks. There are then potentialities as well as
actualities in the world. But when the first man opens his eyes, has he lost
the capacity to see? Obviously not; while he is seeing, his capacity to see is
no longer merely a potentiality, but is a potentiality which has been put to
work. The potentiality to see exists sometimes as active or at-work, and
sometimes as inactive or latent. But this example seems to get us no closer to
understanding motion, since seeing is just one of those activities which is not
a motion. Let us consider, then, a man's capacity to walk across the room. When
he is sitting or standing or lying still, his capacity to walk is latent, like
the sight of the man with his eyes closed; that capacity nevertheless has real
being, distinguishing the man in question from a man who is crippled to the
extent of having lost all potentiality to walk. When the man is walking across
the room, his capacity to walk has been put to work. But while he is walking,
what has happened to his capacity to be
at the other side of the room, which was also latent before he began to walk? It
too is a potentiality which has been put to work by the act of walking. Once he
has reached the other side of the room, his potentiality to be there has been
actualized in Ross' sense of the term, but while he is walking, his
potentiality to be on the other side of the room is not merely latent, and is
not yet canceled by, an actuality in the weak sense, the so-called actuality of
being on that other side of the room; while
he is walking his potentiality to be on the other side of the room is actual
just as a potentiality. The actuality of the potentiality to be on
the other side of the room, as just that potentiality, is neither more nor less
than the walking across the room.
A similar analysis will apply to any motion whatever. The
growth of the puppy is not the actualization of its potentiality to be a dog,
but the actuality of that potentiality as a potentiality. The falling of the
pencil is the actuality of its potentiality to be on the floor, in actuality as
just that: as a potentiality
to be on the floor. In each case the motion is just the potentiality qua actual and the actuality qua potential. And the sense we thus give
to the word entelecheia is
not at odds with its other uses: a motion is like an animal in that it remains
completely and exactly what it is through time. My walking across the room is
no more a motion as the last step is being taken than at any earlier point. Every
motion is a complex whole, an enduring unity which organizes distinct parts,
such as the various positions through which the falling pencil passes. As parts
of the motion of the pencil, these positions, though distinct, function
identically in the ordered continuity determined by the potentiality of the
pencil to be on the floor. Things have being to the extent that they are or are
part of determinate wholes, so that to be means to be something, and change has
being because it always is or is part of some determinate potentiality, at work
and manifest in the world as change.
8. Zeno's Paradoxes and Aristotle's Definition of Motion
Consider the application of Aristotle's account of
motion to two paradoxes famous in antiquity. Zeno argued in various
ways that there is no motion. According to one of his arguments, the arrow in
flight is always in some one place, therefore always at rest, and therefore
never in motion. We can deduce from Aristotle's definition that Zeno has made
the same error, technically called the fallacy of composition, as one who would
argue that no animal is alive since its head, when cut off, is not alive, its
blood, when drawn out, is not alive, its bones, when removed are not alive, and
so on with each part in turn. The second paradox is one attributed to Heraclitus, and taken as
proving that there is nothing but motion, that is, no identity, in the world. The
saying goes that one cannot step into the same river twice. If the river flows,
how can it continue to be itself? But the flux of the river, like the flight of
the arrow, is an actuality of just the kind Aristotle formulates in his
definition of motion. The river is always the same, as a river, precisely because it is never
the same as water. To be a river is to be the always identical actuality of the
potentiality of water to be in the sea.
For more discussion of Aristotle's solution to Zeno's
paradoxes, see "Zeno: Aristotle's Treatment of Zeno's Paradoxes."
9. References and Further Reading
- Aristotle, Metaphysics, Joe Sachs (trans.), Green Lion Press, 1999.
- Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Joe Sachs (trans.), Focus Philosophical Library, Pullins Press, 2002.
- Aristotle, On the Soul, Joe Sachs (trans.), Green Lion Press, 2001.
- Aristotle, Poetics, Joe Sachs (trans.), Focus Philosophical Library, Pullins Press, 2006.
- Aristotle, Physics, Joe Sachs (trans.), Rutgers U. P., 1995.
- Kosman, L. A. "Aristotle's Definition of Motion," Phronesis, 1969.
Author Information
Aristotle: Politics
In his Nicomachean
Ethics, Aristotle (384-322
B.C.E.) describes the happy life intended for man by nature as one lived
in accordance with virtue, and, in his Politics,
he describes the role that politics and the political community must play in
bringing about the virtuous life in the citizenry.
The Politics
also provides analysis of the kinds of political community that existed in his
time and shows where and how these cities fall short of the ideal community of
virtuous citizens.
Although in some ways we have clearly moved beyond his
thought (for example, his belief in the inferiority of women and his approval
of slavery in at least some circumstances), there remains much in Aristotle’s
philosophy that is valuable today.
In particular, his views on the connection between the
well-being of the political community and that of the citizens who make it up,
his belief that citizens must actively participate in politics if they are to
be happy and virtuous, and his analysis of what causes and prevents revolution
within political communities have been a source of inspiration for many
contemporary theorists, especially those unhappy with the liberal political
philosophy promoted by thinkers such as John Locke and John Stuart Mill.
Table of Contents
- Biography and History
- The Texts
- Challenges of the Texts
- Politics and Ethics
- The Importance of Telos
- The Text of the Politics
- The Politics, Book I
- The Politics, Book II
- The Politics, Book III
- The Politics, Book IV
- The Politics, Book V
- The Politics, Book VI
- The Politics, Book VII
- The Politics, Book VIII
- References and Further Reading
1. Biography and History
Aristotle's life was primarily that of a scholar. However,
like the other ancient philosophers, it was not the stereotypical ivory tower
existence. His father was court physician to Amyntas III of Macedon, so
Aristotle grew up in a royal household. Aristotle also knew Philip of Macedon
(son of Amyntas III) and there is a tradition that says Aristotle tutored Philip’s
son Alexander, who would later be called "the Great" after expanding
the Macedonian Empire all the way to what is now India. Clearly, Aristotle had
significant firsthand experience with politics, though scholars disagree about
how much influence, if any, this experience had on Aristotle's thought. There
is certainly no evidence that Alexander's subsequent career was much influenced
by Aristotle's teaching, which is uniformly critical of war and conquest as
goals for human beings and which praises the intellectual, contemplative
lifestyle. It is noteworthy that although Aristotle praises the politically
active life, he spent most of his own life in Athens, where he was not a
citizen and would not have been allowed to participate directly in politics (although
of course anyone who wrote as extensively and well about politics as Aristotle
did was likely to be politically influential).
Aristotle studied under Plato at Plato's
Academy in Athens, and eventually opened a school of his own (the Lyceum)
there. As a scholar, Aristotle had a wide range of interests. He wrote about
meteorology, biology, physics, poetry, logic, rhetoric, and politics and
ethics, among other subjects. His writings on many of these interests remained
definitive for almost two millennia. They remained, and remain, so valuable in
part because of the comprehensiveness of his efforts. For example, in order to
understand political phenomena, he had his students collect information on the
political organization and history of 158 different cities. The Politics makes frequent reference to
political events and institutions from many of these cities, drawing on his
students' research. Aristotle’s theories about the best ethical and political
life are drawn from substantial amounts of empirical research. These studies,
and in particular the Constitution of
Athens, will be discussed in more detail below (Who Should Rule?). The
question of how these writings should be unified into a consistent whole (if
that is even possible) is an open one and beyond the scope of this article. This
article will not attempt to organize all of Aristotle's work into a coherent
whole, but will draw on different texts as they are necessary to complete one
version of Aristotle's view of politics.
2. The Texts
The most important text for understanding Aristotle's
political philosophy, not surprisingly, is the Politics. However, it is also important to read Nicomachean Ethics in order to fully
understand Aristotle's political project. This is because Aristotle believed
that ethics and politics were closely linked, and that in fact the ethical and
virtuous life is only available to someone who participates in politics, while
moral education is the main purpose of the political community. As he says in Nicomachean Ethics at 1099b30, "The
end [or goal] of politics is the best of ends; and the main concern of politics
is to engender a certain character in the citizens and to make them good and
disposed to perform noble actions." Most people living today in Western
societies like the United States, Canada, Germany, or Australia would disagree
with both parts of that statement. We are likely to regard politics (and
politicians) as aiming at ignoble, selfish ends, such as wealth and power,
rather than the "best end", and many people regard the idea that
politics is or should be primarily concerned with creating a particular moral
character in citizens as a dangerous intrusion on individual freedom, in large
part because we do not agree about what the "best end" is. In fact,
what people in Western societies generally ask from politics and the government
is that they keep each of us safe from other people (through the provision of
police and military forces) so that each of us can choose and pursue our own
ends, whatever they may be. This has been the case in Western political
philosophy at least since John Locke. Development of individual character is
left up to the individual, with help from family, religion, and other
non-governmental institutions. More will be said about this later, but the
reader should keep in mind that this is an important way in which our political
and ethical beliefs are not Aristotle's. The reader is also cautioned against
immediately concluding from this that Ar istotle was wrong and we are right. This
may be so, but it is important to understand why, and the contrast between
Aristotle's beliefs and ours can help to bring the strengths and weaknesses of
our own beliefs into greater clarity.
The reference above to "Nicomachean Ethics at 1099b30" makes
use of what is called Bekker pagination. This refers to the location of
beginning of the cited text in the edition of Aristotle's works produced by
Immanuel Bekker in Berlin in 1831 (in this case, it begins on page 1099, column
b, line 30). Scholars make use of this system for all of Aristotle's works
except the Constitution of Athens (which
was not rediscovered until after 1831) and fragmentary works in order to be
able to refer to the same point in Aristotle's work regardless of which
edition, translation, or language they happen to be working with. This entry
will make use of the Bekker pagination system, and will also follow tradition
and refer to Nicomachean Ethics
as simply Ethics. (There is
also a Eudemian Ethics which is
almost certainly by Aristotle (and which shares three of the ten books of the Nicomachean Ethics) and a work on ethics
titled Magna Moralia which has
been attributed to him but which most scholars now believe is not his work. Regardless,
most scholars believe that the Nicomachean
Ethics is Aristotle's fullest and most mature expression of his
ethical theory). The translation is that of Martin Ostwald; see the
bibliography for full information. In addition to the texts listed above, the
student with an interest in Aristotle’s political theory may also wish to read
the Rhetoric, which includes
observations on ethics and politics in the context of teaching the reader how
to be a more effective speaker, and the Constitution
of Athens, a work attributed to Aristotle, but which may be by one
of his students, which describes the political history of the city of Athens.
3. Challenges of the Texts
Any honest attempt to summarize and describe
Aristotle's political philosophy must include an acknowledgment that there is
no consensus on many of the most important aspects of that philosophy. Some of
the reasons for this should be mentioned from the outset.
One set of reasons has to do with the text itself and
the transmission of the text from Aristotle's time to ours. The first thing
that can lead to disagreement over Aristotle's beliefs is the fact that
the Politics andEthics are believed by many scholars to
be his lecture notes, for lectures which were intended to be heard only by his
own students. (Aristotle did write for general audiences on these subjects,
probably in dialogue form, but only a few fragments of those writings remain). This
is also one reason why many students have difficulty reading his work: no teacher's
lecture notes ever make complete sense to anyone else (their meaning can even
elude their author at times). Many topics in the texts are discussed less fully
than we would like, and many things are ambiguous which we wish were more
straightforward. But if Aristotle was lecturing from these writings, he could
have taken care of these problems on the fly as he lectured, since presumably
he knew what he meant, or he could have responded to requests for clarification
or elaboration from his students.
Secondly, most people who read Aristotle are not
reading him in the original Attic Greek but are instead reading translations. This
leads to further disagreement, because different authors translate Aristotle
differently, and the way in which a particular word is translated can be very
significant for the text as a whole. There is no way to definitively settle the
question of what Aristotle "really meant to say" in using a
particular word or phrase.
Third, the Aristotelian texts we have are not the
originals, but copies, and every time a text gets copied errors creep in
(words, sentences, or paragraphs can get left out, words can be changed into
new words, and so forth). For example, imagine someone writing the sentence
"Ronald Reagan was the lastcompetent
president of the United States." It is copied by hand, and the person
making the copy accidentally writes (or assumes that the author must have
written) "Ronald Reagan was the leastcompetent
president of the United States." If the original is then destroyed, so
that only the copy remains, future generations will read a sentence that means
almost exactly the opposite of what the author intended. It may be clear from
the context that a word has been changed, but then again it may not, and there
is always hesitation in changing the text as we have it. In addition, although
nowadays it is unacceptable to modify someone else's work without clearly
denoting the changes, this is a relatively recent development and there are
portions of Aristotle's texts which scholars believe were added by later
writers. This, too, complicates our understanding of Aristotle.
Finally, there are a number of controversies related
to the text of the Politics in
particular. These controversies cannot be discussed here, but should be mentioned.
For more detail consult the works listed in the "Suggestions for further
reading" below. First, there is disagreement about whether the books of
the Politics are in the
order that Aristotle intended. Carnes Lord and others have argued based on a
variety of textual evidence that books 7 and 8 were intended by Aristotle to
follow book 3. Rearranging the text in this way would have the effect of
joining the early discussion of the origins of political life and the city, and
the nature of political justice, with the discussion of the ideal city and the
education appropriate for it, while leaving together books 4-6 which are
primarily concerned with existing varieties of regimes and how they are
preserved and destroyed and moving them to the conclusion of the book. Second,
some authors, notably Werner Jaeger, have argued that the different focus and
orientation of the different portions of the Politics is a result of Aristotle writing them at different
times, reflecting his changing interests and orientation towards Plato's teachings. The
argument is that at first Aristotle stuck very closely to the attitudes and
ideas of his teacher Plato, and only later developed his own more
empirical approach. Thus any difficulties that there may be in integrating the
different parts of the Politicsarise
from the fact that they were not meant to be integrated and were written at
different times and with different purposes. Third, the Politics as we have it appears to be
incomplete; Book 6 ends in the middle of a sentence and Book 8 in the middle of a
discussion. There are also several places in the Politicswhere Aristotle promises to
consider a topic further later but does not do so in the text as we have i t
(for example, at the end of Book II, Chapter 8). It is possible that Aristotle
never finished writing it; more likely there is material missing as a result of
damage to the scrolls on which it was written. The extent and content of any
missing material is a matter of scholarly debate.
Fortunately, the beginning student of Aristotle will
not need to concern themselves much with these problems. It is, however,
important to get a quality translation of the text, which provides an
introduction, footnotes, a glossary, and a bibliography, so that the reader is
aware of places where, for example, there seems to be something missing from
the text, or a word can have more than one meaning, or there are other textual
issues. These will not always be the cheapest or most widely available translations,
but it is important to get one of them, from a library if need be. Several
suggested editions are listed at the end of this article.
4. Politics and Ethics
In Book Six of the Ethics Aristotle says that all knowledge can be classified
into three categories: theoretical knowledge, practical knowledge, and
productive knowledge. Put simply, these kinds of knowledge are distinguished by
their aims: theoretical knowledge aims at contemplation, productive knowledge
aims at creation, and practical knowledge aims at action. Theoretical knowledge
involves the study of truth for its own sake; it is knowledge about things that
are unchanging and eternal, and includes things like the principles of logic,
physics, and mathematics (at the end of the Ethics Aristotle says that the most excellent human life is
one lived in pursuit of this type of knowledge, because this knowledge brings
us closest to the divine). The productive and practical sciences, in contrast,
address our daily needs as human beings, and have to do with things that can
and do change. Productive knowledge means, roughly, know-how; the knowledge of
how to make a table or a house or a pair of shoes or how to write a tragedy
would be examples of this kind of knowledge. This entry is concerned with
practical knowledge, which is the knowledge of how to live and act. According
to Aristotle, it is the possession and use of practical knowledge that makes it
possible to live a good life. Ethics and politics, which are the practical
sciences, deal with human beings as moral agents. Ethics is primarily about the
actions of human beings as individuals, and politics is about the actions of
human beings in communities, although it is important to remember that for
Aristotle the two are closely linked and each influences the other.
The fact that ethics and politics are kinds of
practical knowledge has several important consequences. First, it means that
Aristotle believes that mere abstract knowledge of ethics and politics is
worthless. Practical knowledge is only useful if we act on it; we must act
appropriately if we are to be moral. He says at Ethics 1103b25: "The purpose of the
present study [of morality] is not, as it is in other inquiries, the attainment
of theoretical knowledge: we are not conducting this inquiry in order to know
what virtue is, but in order to become good, else there would be no advantage
in studying it."
Second, according to Aristotle, only some people can
beneficially study politics. Aristotle believes that women and slaves (or at
least those who are slaves by nature) can never benefit from the study of
politics, and also should not be allowed to participate in politics, about
which more will be said later. But there is also a limitation on political
study based on age, as a result of the connection between politics and
experience: "A young man is not equipped to be a student of politics; for
he has no experience in the actions which life demands of him, and these
actions form the basis and subject matter of the discussion" (Ethics 1095a2). Aristotle adds that young
men will usually act on the basis of their emotions, rather than according to
reason, and since acting on practical knowledge requires the use of reason,
young men are unequipped to study politics for this reason too. So the study of
politics will only be useful to those who have the experience and the mental
discipline to benefit from it, and for Aristotle this would have been a
relatively small percentage of the population of a city. Even in Athens, the
most democratic city in Greece, no more than 15 percent of the population was
ever allowed the benefits of citizenship, including political participation. Athenian
citizenship was limited to adult males who were not slaves and who had one
parent who was an Athenian citizen (sometimes citizenship was further
restricted to require both parents to be Athenian citizens). Aristotle does not
think this percentage should be increased - if anything, it should be
decreased.
Third, Aristotle distinguishes between practical and
theoretical knowledge in terms of the level of precision that can be attained
when studying them. Political and moral knowledge does not have the same degree
of precision or certainty as mathematics. Aristotle says at Ethics 1094b14: "Problems of what is
noble and just, which politics examines, present so much variety and
irregularity that some people believe that they exist only by convention and
not by nature….Therefore, in a discussion of such subjects, which has to start
with a basis of this kind, we must be satisfied to indicate the truth with a
rough and general sketch: when the subject and the basis of a discussion
consist of matters that hold good only as a general rule, but not always, the
conclusions reached must be of the same order." Aristotle does not believe
that the noble and the just exist only by convention, any more than, say, the
principles of geometry do. However, the principles of geometry are fixed and
unchanging. The definition of a point, or a line, or a plane, can be given
precisely, and once this definition is known, it is fixed and unchanging for
everyone. However, the definition of something like justice can only be known
generally; there is no fixed and unchanging definition that will always be
correct. This means that unlike philosophers such as Hobbes and Kant, Aristotle
does not and in fact cannot give us a fixed set of rules to be followed when
ethical and political decisions must be made. Instead he tries to make his
students the kind of men who, when confronted with any particular ethical or
political decision, will know the correct thing to do, will understand why it
is the correct choice, and will choose to do it for that reason. Such a man
will know the general rules to be followed, but will also know when and why to
deviate from those rules. (I will use "man" and "men" when
referring to citizens so that the reader keeps in mind that Aristotle, and the
Greeks generally, excluded women from political part icipation. In fact it is
not until the mid-19th century that organized attempts to gain the right to
vote for women really get underway, and even today in the 21st century there
are still many countries which deny women the right to vote or participate in
political life).
5. The Importance of Telos
I have already noted the connection between ethics and
politics in Aristotle's thought. The concept that most clearly links the two is
that which Aristotle called telos. A
discussion of this concept and its importance will help the reader make sense
of what follows. Aristotle himself discusses it in Book II, Chapter 3 of
the Physics and Book I,
Chapter 3 of the Metaphysics.
The word telos
means something like purpose, or goal, or final end. According to
Aristotle, everything has a purpose or final end. If we want to understand what
something is, it must be understood in terms of that end, which we can discover
through careful study. It is perhaps easiest to understand what a telos is by looking first at objects
created by human beings. Consider a knife. If you wanted to describe a knife,
you would talk about its size, and its shape, and what it is made out of, among
other things. But Aristotle believes that you would also, as part of your
description, have to say that it is made to cut things. And when you did, you
would be describing its telos. The
knife's purpose, or reason for existing, is to cut things. And Aristotle would
say that unless you included that telos
in your description, you wouldn't really have described - or
understood – the knife. This is true not only of things made by humans, but of
plants and animals as well. If you were to fully describe an acorn, you would
include in your description that it will become an oak tree in the natural
course of things – so acorns too have a telos.
Suppose you were to describe an animal, like a thoroughbred foal. You
would talk about its size, say it has four legs and hair, and a tail. Eventually
you would say that it is meant to run fast. This is the horse's telos, or
purpose. If nothing thwarts that purpose, the young horse will indeed become a
fast runner.
Here we are not primarily concerned with the telos of a knife or an acorn or a foal. What
concerns us is the telos of
a human being. Just like everything else that is alive, human beings have
a telos. What is it that
human beings are meant by nature to become in the way that knives are meant to
cut, acorns are meant to become oak trees, and thoroughbred ponies are meant to
become race horses? According to Aristotle, we are meant to become happy. This
is nice to hear, although it isn't all that useful. After all, people find
happiness in many different ways. However, Aristotle says that living happily
requires living a life of virtue. Someone who is not living a life that is
virtuous, or morally good, is also not living a happy life, no matter what they
might think. They are like a knife that will not cut, an oak tree that is
diseased and stunted, or a racehorse that cannot run. In fact they are worse,
since they have chosen the life they lead in a way that a knife or an acorn or
a horse cannot.
Someone who does live according to virtue, who chooses
to do the right thing because it is the right thing to do, is living a life
that flourishes; to borrow a phrase, they are being all that they can be by
using all of their human capacities to their fullest. The most important of
these capacities is logos -
a word that means "speech" and also means "reason" (it
gives us the English word "logic"). Human beings alone have the
ability to speak, and Aristotle says that we have been given that ability by
nature so that we can speak and reason with each other to discover what is
right and wrong, what is good and bad, and what is just and unjust.
Note that human beings discover these things rather
than creating them. We do not get to decide what is right and wrong, but we do
get to decide whether we will do what is right or what is wrong, and this is
the most important decision we make in life. So too is the happy life: we do
not get to decide what really makes us happy, although we do decide whether or
not to pursue the happy life. And this is an ongoing decision. It is not made
once and for all, but must be made over and over again as we live our lives. Aristotle
believes that it is not easy to be virtuous, and he knows that becoming
virtuous can only happen under the right conditions. Just as an acorn can only
fulfill its telos if there
is sufficient light, the right kind of soil, and enough water (among other
things), and a horse can only fulfill its telos if there is sufficient food and room to run (again,
among other things), an individual can only fulfill their telos and be a moral and happy human
being within a well constructed political community. The community brings about
virtue through education and through laws which prescribe certain actions and
prohibit others.
And here we see the link between ethics and politics
in a different light: the role of politics is to provide an environment in
which people can live fully human, ethical, and happy lives, and this is the
kind of life which makes it possible for someone to participate in politics in
the correct way. As Aristotle says at Ethics1103a30:
"We become just by the practice of just actions, self-controlled by
exercising self-control, and courageous by performing acts of
courage....Lawgivers make the citizens good by inculcating [good] habits in
them, and this is the aim of every lawgiver; if he does not succeed in doing
that, his legislation is a failure. It is in this that a good constitution
differs from a bad one." This is not a view that would be found in
political science textbooks today, but for Aristotle it is the central concern
of the study of politics: how can we discover and put into practice the
political institutions that will develop virtue in the citizens to the greatest
possible extent?
6. The Text of the Politics
Having laid out the groundwork for Aristotle's
thought, we are now in a position to look more closely at the text of the Politics. The translation we will use is
that of Carnes Lord, which can be found in the list of suggested readings. This
discussion is by no means complete; there is much of interest and value in
Aristotle's political writings that will not be considered here. Again, the
reader is encouraged to investigate the list of suggested readings. However,
the main topics and problems of Aristotle's work will be included. The
discussion will, to the extent possible, follow the organization of the Politics.
7. The Politics, Book I
a. The Purpose of the City
Aristotle begins the Politics by defining its subject, the city or political
partnership. Doing so requires him to explain the purpose of the city. (The
Greek word for city is polis,
which is the word that gives us English words like "politics" and
"policy"). Aristotle says that "It is clear that all
partnerships aim at some good, and that the partnership that is most
authoritative of all and embraces all the others does so particularly, and aims
at the most authoritative good of all. This is what is called the city or the
political partnership" (1252a3) (See also III.12). In Greece in
Aristotle's time the important political entities were cities, which controlled
surrounding territories that were farmed. It is important to remember that the
city was not subordinate to a state or nation, the way that cities are today;
it was sovereign over the territory that it controlled. To convey this, some
translations use the word "city-state" in place of the
world "polis." Although
none of us today lives in a polis
, we should not be too quick to dismiss Aristotle's observations on the way of
life of the polis as
irrelevant to our own political partnerships.
Notice that Aristotle does not define the political
community in the way that we generally would, by the laws that it follows or by
the group that holds power or as an entity controlling a particular territory. Instead
he defines it as a partnership. The citizens of a political community are
partners, and as with any other partnership they pursue a common good. In the
case of the city it is the most authoritative or highest good. The most authoritative
and highest good of all, for Aristotle, is the virtue and happiness of the
citizens, and the purpose of the city is to make it possible for the citizens
to achieve this virtue and happiness. When discussing the ideal city, he says
"[A] city is excellent, at any rate, by its citizens' - those sharing in
the regime – being excellent; and in our case all the citizens share in the
regime" (1332a34). In achieving the virtue that is individual excellence,
each of them will fulfill his telos. Indeed,
it is the shared pursuit of virtue that makes a city a city.
As I have already noted at the beginning of this text,
he says in the Ethics at
1099b30: "The end of politics is the best of ends; and the main concern of
politics is to engender a certain character in the citizens and to make them
good and disposed to perform noble actions." As has been mentioned, most
people today would not see this as the main concern of politics, or even a
legitimate concern. Certainly almost everyone wants to see law-abiding
citizens, but it is questionable that changing the citizens' character or
making them morally good is part of what government should do. Doing so would
require far more governmental control over citizens than most people in Western
societies are willing to allow.
Having seen Aristotle's definition of the city and its
purpose, we then get an example of Aristotle's usual method of discussing
political topics. He begins by examining opinions which are "generally
accepted," which means, as he says in the Topics at 100b21, "are accepted by everyone or by the
majority or by the philosophers - i.e. by all, or by the majority, or by the
most notable and illustrious of them" on the grounds that any such
opinions are likely to have at least some truth to them. These opinions (the
Greek word isendoxa), however,
are not completely true. They must be systematically examined and modified by
scholars of politics before the truths that are part of these opinions are
revealed. Because Aristotle uses this method of examining the opinions of
others to arrive at truth, the reader must be careful to pay attention to
whether a particular argument or belief is Aristotle's or not. In many cases he
is setting out an argument in order to challenge it. It can be difficult to
tell when Aristotle is arguing in his own voice and when he is considering the
opinions of others, but the reader must carefully make this distinction if they
are to understand Aristotle's teachings. (It has also been suggested that
Aristotle's method should be seen as an example of how political discussion
ought to be conducted: a variety of viewpoints and arguments are presented, and
the final decision is arrived at through a consideration of the strengths and
weaknesses of these viewpoints and arguments). For a further discussion of
Aristotle’s methodology, see his discussion of reasoning in general and
dialectical reasoning in particular in the Topics. Further examples of his approach can be found
in Ethics I.4 and VII.1.
In this case, Aristotle takes up the popular opinion
that political rule is really the same as other kinds of rule: that of kings
over their subjects, of fathers over their wives and children, and of masters
over their slaves. This opinion, he says, is mistaken. In fact, each of these
kinds of rule is different. To see why, we must consider how the city comes
into being, and it is to this that Aristotle next turns in Book I, Chapter 2.
b. How the City Comes Into Being
Here Aristotle tells the story of how cities have
historically come into being. The first partnerships among human beings would
have been between "persons who cannot exist without one another"
(1252a27). There are two pairs of people for whom this is the case. One pair is
that of male and female, for the sake of reproduction. This seems reasonable
enough to the modern reader. The other pair, however, is that of "the
naturally ruling and ruled, on account of preservation" (1252a30). Here
Aristotle is referring to slavery. By "preservation" he means that
the naturally ruling master and naturally ruled slave need each other if they
are to preserve themselves; slavery is a kind of partnership which benefits
both master and slave. We will see how later. For now, he simply says that
these pairs of people come together and form a household, which exists for the
purpose of meeting the needs of daily life (such as food, shelter, clothing,
and so forth). The family is only large enough to provide for the bare
necessities of life, sustaining its members' lives and allowing for the
reproduction of the species.
Over time, the family expands, and as it does it will
come into contact with other families. Eventually a number of such families
combine and form a village. Villages are better than families because they are
more self-sufficient. Because villages are larger than families, people can
specialize in a wider array of tasks and can develop skills in things like
cooking, medicine, building, soldiering, and so forth which they could not
develop in a smaller group. So the residents of a village will live more
comfortable lives, with access to more goods and services, than those who only
live in families.
The significant change in human communities, however,
comes when a number of villages combine to form a city. A city is not just a
big village, but is fundamentally different: "The partnership arising from
[the union of] several villages that is complete is the city. It reaches a
level of full self-sufficiency, so to speak; and while coming into being for
the sake of living, it exists for the sake of living well" (1252b27). Although
the founders of cities create them for the sake of more comfortable lives,
cities are unique in making it possible for people to live well. Today we tend
to think of "living well" as living a life of comfort, family
satisfaction, and professional success, surrounded by nice things. But this is
not what Aristotle means by "living well". As we have seen, for
Aristotle "living well" means leading a life of happiness and virtue,
and by so doing fulfilling one's telos.
Life in the city, in Aristotle’s view, is therefore necessary for
anyone who wishes to be completely human. (His particular concern is with the
free men who are citizens). "He who is without a city through nature
rather than chance is either a mean sort or superior to man," Aristotle
says (1253a3), and adds "One who is incapable of participating or who is
in need of nothing through being self-sufficient is no part of a city, and so
is either a beast or a god" (1253a27). Humans are not capable of becoming
gods, but they are capable of becoming beasts, and in fact the worst kind of
beasts: "For just as man is the best of the animals when completed, when
separated from law and adjudication he is the worst of all" (1253a30). Outside
of the context of life in a properly constructed city, human happiness and
well-being is impossible. Even here at the very beginning of the Politics Aristotle is showing the link
between ethics and politics and the importance of a well-constructed city in
making it possible for the citizens to live well.
There is therefore a sense in which the city "is
prior by nature to the household and to each of us" (1253a19). He compares
the individual's relationship with the city to the relationship of a part of
the body to the whole body. The destruction of the whole body would also mean
the destruction of each of its parts; "if the whole [body] is destroyed
there will not be a foot or a hand" (1253a20). And just as a hand is not
able to survive without being attached to a functioning body, so too an
individual cannot survive without being attached to a city. Presumably
Aristotle also means to imply that the reverse is not true; a body can survive
the loss of a foot or a hand, although not without consequence. Thus the
individual needs the city more than the city needs any of its individual
citizens; as Aristotle says in Book 8 before beginning his discussion of the
desirable education for the city’s children, "one ought not even consider
that a citizen belongs to himself, but rather that all belong to the city; for
each individual is a part of the city" (1337a26).
If the history that he has described is correct,
Aristotle points out, then the city is natural, and not purely an artificial
human construction, since we have established that the first partnerships which
make up the family are driven by natural impulses: "Every city, therefore,
exists by nature, if such also are the first partnerships. For the city is
their end….[T]he city belongs among the things that exist by nature, and…man is
by nature a political animal" (1252b30-1253a3). From the very first
partnerships of male and female and master and slave, nature has been aiming at
the creation of cities, because cities are necessary for human beings to
express their capacities and virtues at their best, thus fulfilling their
potential and moving towards such perfection as is possible for human beings. While
most people today would not agree that nature has a plan for individual human
beings, a particular community, or humanity as a whole (although many people
would ascribe such a plan to a god or gods), Aristotle believes that nature
does indeed have such a plan, and human beings have unique attributes that when
properly used make it possible for us to fulfill that plan. What are those
attributes?
c. Man, the Political Animal
That man is much more a political animal than any kind
of bee or any herd animal is clear. For, as we assert, nature does nothing in
vain, and man alone among the animals has speech....[S]peech serves to reveal
the advantageous and the harmful and hence also the just and unjust. For it is
peculiar to man as compared to the other animals that he alone has a perception
of good and bad and just and unjust and other things of this sort; and
partnership in these things is what makes a household and a city (1253a8).
Like bees and herd animals, human beings live together
in groups. Unlike bees or herd animals, humans have the capacity for speech -
or, in the Greek, logos. As we have seen, logos means not only speech but also reason. Here the linkage
between speech and reason is clear: the purpose of speech, a purpose assigned
to men by nature, is to reveal what is advantageous and harmful, and by doing
so to reveal what is good and bad, just and unjust. This knowledge makes it
possible for human beings to live together, and at the same time makes it
possible for us to pursue justice as part of the virtuous lives we are meant to
live. Other animals living in groups, such as bees, goats, and cows, do not
have the ability to speak or to reason as Aristotle uses those terms. Of
course, they do not need this ability. They are able to live together without
determining what is just and unjust or creating laws to enforce justice among
themselves. Human beings, for better or worse, cannot do this.
Although nature brings us together - we are by nature
political animals – nature alone does not give us all of what we need to live
together: "[T]here is in everyone by nature an impulse toward this sort of
partnership. And yet the one who first constituted [a city] is responsible for
the greatest of goods" [1253a29]. We must figure out how to live together
for ourselves through the use of reason and speech, discovering justice and
creating laws that make it possible for human community to survive and for the
individuals in it to live virtuous lives. A group of people that has done this
is a city: "[The virtue of] justice is a thing belonging to the city. For
adjudication is an arrangement of the political partnership, and adjudication
is judgment as to what is just" (1253a38). And in discovering and living
according to the right laws, acting with justice and exercising the virtues
that allow human society to function, we make possible not only the success of
the political community but also the flourishing of our own individual virtue
and happiness. Without the city and its justice, human beings are the worst of
animals, just as we are the best when we are completed by the right kind of
life in the city. And it is the pursuit of virtue rather than the pursuit of
wealth or security or safety or military strength that is the most important
element of a city: "The political partnership must be regarded, therefore,
as being for the sake of noble actions, not for the sake of living
together" (1281a1).
d. Slavery
Having described the basic parts of the city,
Aristotle returns in Chapter 3 of Book I to a discussion of the household,
beginning with the matter of slavery, including the question of whether slavery
is just (and hence an acceptable institution) or not. This, for most contemporary
readers is one of the two most offensive portions of Aristotle's moral and
political thought (the other is his treatment of women, about which more will
be said below). For most people today, of course, the answer to this is
obvious: slavery is not just, and in fact is one of the greatest injustices and
moral crimes that it is possible to commit. (Although it is not widely known,
there are still large numbers of people held in slavery throughout the world at
the beginning of the 21st century. It is easy to believe that people in the
"modern world" have put a great deal of moral distance between
themselves and the less enlightened people in the past, but it is also easy to
overestimate that distance).
In Aristotle's time most people - at least the ones
that were not themselves slaves – would also have believed that this question
had an obvious answer, if they had asked the question at all: of course slavery
is just. Virtually every ancient Mediterranean culture had some form of the
institution of slavery. Slaves were usually of two kinds: either they had at
one point been defeated in war, and the fact that they had been defeated meant
that they were inferior and meant to serve, or else they were the children of
slaves, in which case their inferiority was clear from their inferior
parentage. Aristotle himself says that the sort of war that involves hunting
"those human beings who are naturally suited to be ruled but [are]
unwilling…[is] by nature just" (1256b25). What is more, the economies of
the Greek city-states rested on slavery, and without slaves (and women) to do
the productive labor, there could be no leisure for men to engage in more
intellectual lifestyles. The greatness of Athenian plays, architecture,
sculpture, and philosophy could not have been achieved without the institution
of slavery. Therefore, as a practical matter, regardless of the arguments for
or against it, slavery was not going to be abolished in the Greek world. Aristotle’s
willingness to consider the justice of slavery, however we might see it, was in
fact progressive for the time. It is perhaps also worth noting that Aristotle’s
will specified that his slaves should be freed upon his death. This is not to
excuse Aristotle or those of his time who supported slavery, but it should be
kept in mind so as to give Aristotle a fair hearing.
Before considering Aristotle's ultimate position on
the justness of slavery - for who, and under what circumstances, slavery is
appropriate – it must be pointed out that there is a great deal of disagreement
about what that position is. That Aristotle believes slavery to be just and
good for both master and slave in some circumstances is undeniable. That he
believes that some people who are currently enslaved are not being held in
slavery according to justice is also undeniable (this would apparently also
mean that there are people who should be enslaved but currently are not). How
we might tell which people belong in which group, and what Aristotle believes
the consequences of his beliefs about slavery ought to be, are more difficult
problems.
Remember that in his discussion of the household,
Aristotle has said that slavery serves the interest of both the master and the
slave. Now he tells us why: "those who are as different [from other men]
as the soul from the body or man from beast - and they are in this state if
their work is the use of the body, and if this is the best that can come from
them – are slaves by nature….For he is a slave by nature who is capable of
belonging to another – which is also why he belongs to another – and who
participates in reason only to the extent of perceiving it, but does not have
it" (1254b16-23). Notice again the importance of logos – reason and speech. Those who are
slaves by nature do not have the full ability to reason. (Obviously they are
not completely helpless or unable to reason; in the case of slaves captured in
war, for example, the slaves were able to sustain their lives into adulthood
and organize themselves into military forces. Aristotle also promises a
discussion of "why it is better to hold out freedom as a reward for all
slaves" (1330a30) which is not in the Politics as we have it, but if slaves were not capable of
reasoning well enough to stay alive it would not be a good thing to free them).
They are incapable of fully governing their own lives, and require other people
to tell them what to do. Such people should be set to labor by the people who
have the ability to reason fully and order their own lives. Labor is their
proper use; Aristotle refers to slaves as "living tools" at I.4. Slaves
get the guidance and instructions that they must have to live, and in return
they provide the master with the benefits of their physical labor, not least of
which is the free time that makes it possible for the master to engage in
politics and philosophy.
One of the themes running through Aristotle's thought
that most people would reject today is the idea that a life of labor is
demeaning and degrading, so that those who must work for a living are not able
to be as virtuous as those who do not have to do such work. Indeed, Aristotle
says that when the master can do so he avoids labor even to the extent of
avoiding the oversight of those who must engage in it: "[F]or those to
whom it is open not to be bothered with such things [i.e. managing slaves], an
overseer assumes this prerogative, while they themselves engage in politics or
philosophy" (1255b35).
This would seem to legitimate slavery, and yet there
are two significant problems.
First, Aristotle points out that although nature would
like us to be able to differentiate between who is meant to be a slave and who
is meant to be a master by making the difference in reasoning capacity visible
in their outward appearances, it frequently does not do so. We cannot look at
people's souls and distinguish those who are meant to rule from those who are
meant to be ruled - and this will also cause problems when Aristotle turns to
the question of who has a just claim to rule in the city.
Second, in Chapter Six, Aristotle points out that not
everyone currently held in slavery is in fact a slave by nature. The argument
that those who are captured in war are inferior in virtue cannot, as far as
Aristotle is concerned, be sustained, and the idea that the children of slaves
are meant to be slaves is also wrong: "[T]hey claim that from the good
should come someone good, just as from a human being comes from a human being
and a beast from beasts. But while nature wishes to do this, it is often unable
to" (1255b3). We are left with the position that while some people are
indeed slaves by nature, and that slavery is good for them, it is extremely
difficult to find out who these people are, and that therefore it is not the
case that slavery is automatically just either for people taken in war or for
children of slaves, though sometimes it is (1256b23). In saying this, Aristotle
was undermining the legitimacy of the two most significant sources of slaves. If
Aristotle's personal life is relevant, while he himself owned slaves, he was
said to have freed them upon his death. Whether this makes Aristotle’s position
on slavery more acceptable or less so is left to the reader to decide.
In Chapter 8 of Book I Aristotle says that since we
have been talking about household possessions such as slaves we might as well
continue this discussion. The discussion turns to "expertise in household
management." The Greek word for "household" is oikos, and it is the source of our word
"economics." In Aristotle's day almost all productive labor took
place within the household, unlike today, in modern capitalist societies, when
it mostly takes place in factories, offices, and other places specifically
developed for such activity.
Aristotle uses the discussion of household management
to make a distinction between expertise in managing a household and expertise
in business. The former, Aristotle says, is important both for the household
and the city; we must have supplies available of the things that are necessary
for life, such as food, clothing, and so forth, and because the household is
natural so too is the science of household management, the job of which is to
maintain the household. The latter, however, is potentially dangerous. This,
obviously, is another major difference between Aristotle and contemporary Western
societies, which respect and admire business expertise, and encourage many of
our citizens to acquire and develop such expertise. For Aristotle, however,
expertise in business is not natural, but "arises rather through a certain
experience and art" (1257a5). It is on account of expertise in business
that "there is held to be no limit to wealth and possessions"
(1257a1). This is a problem because some people are led to pursue wealth
without limit, and the choice of such a life, while superficially very attractive,
does not lead to virtue and real happiness. It leads some people to
"proceed on the supposition that they should either preserve or increase
without limit their property in money. The cause of this state is that they are
serious about living, but not about living well; and since that desire of
theirs is without limit, they also desire what is productive of unlimited
things" (1257b38).
Aristotle does not entirely condemn wealth - it is
necessary for maintaining the household and for providing the opportunity to
develop one's virtue. For example, generosity is one of the virtues listed in
the Ethics, but it is
impossible to be generous unless one has possessions to give away. But
Aristotle strongly believes that we must not lose sight of the fact that wealth
is to be pursued for the sake of living a virtuous life, which is what it means
to live well, rather than for its own sake. (So at 1258b1 he agrees with those
who object to the lending of money for interest, upon which virtually the
entire modern global economy is based). Someone who places primary importance
on money and the bodily satisfactions that it can buy is not engaged in
developing their virtue and has chosen a life which, however it may seem from
the outside or to the person living it, is not a life of true happiness.
This is still another difference between Aristotle and
contemporary Western societies. For many if not most people in such societies,
the pursuit of wealth without limit is seen as not only acceptable but even
admirable. At the same time, many people reject the emphasis Aristotle places
on the importance of political participation. Many liberal democracies fail to
get even half of their potential voters to cast a ballot at election time, and
jury duty, especially in the United States, is often looked on as a burden and
waste of time, rather than a necessary public service that citizens should
willingly perform. In Chapter 11, Aristotle notes that there is a lot more to
be said about enterprise in business, but "to spend much time on such
things is crude" (1258b35). Aristotle believes that we ought to be more
concerned with other matters; moneymaking is beneath the attention of the
virtuous man. (In this Aristotle is in agreement with the common opinion of
Athenian aristocrats). He concludes this discussion with a story about Thales
the philosopher using his knowledge of astronomy to make a great deal of money,
"thus showing how easy it is for philosophers to become wealthy if they so
wish, but it is not this they are serious about" (1259a16). Their
intellectual powers, which could be turned to wealth, are being used in other,
better ways to develop their humanity.
In the course of discussing the various ways of life
open to human beings, Aristotle notes that "If, then, nature makes nothing
that is incomplete or purposeless, nature must necessarily have made all of
these [i.e. all plants and animals] for the sake of human beings"
(1256b21). Though not a directly political statement, it does emphasize
Aristotle's belief that there are many hierarchies in nature, as well as his
belief that those who are lower in the natural hierarchy should be under the
command of those who are higher.
e. Women
In Chapter 12, after the discussion of business
expertise has been completed, Aristotle returns to the subject of household
rule, and takes up the question of the proper forms of rule over women and
children. As with the master's rule over the slave, and humanity’s rule over
plants and other animals, Aristotle defines these kinds of rule in terms of
natural hierarchies: "[T]he male, unless constituted in some respect
contrary to nature, is by nature more expert at leading than the female, and
the elder and complete than the younger and incomplete" (1259a41). This
means that it is natural for the male to rule: "[T]he relation of male to
female is by nature a relation of superior to inferior and ruler to ruled"
(1245b12). And just as with the rule of the master over the slave, the
difference here is one of reason: "The slave is wholly lacking the deliberative
element; the female has it but it lacks authority; the child has it but it is
incomplete" (1260a11).
There is a great deal of scholarly debate about what
the phrase "lacks authority" means in this context. Aristotle does
not elaborate on it. Some have suggested that it means not that women's reason
is inferior to that of men but that women lack the ability to make men do what
they want, either because of some innate psychological characteristic (they are
not aggressive and/or assertive enough) or because of the prevailing culture in
Greece at the time. Others suggest that it means that women’s emotions are
ultimately more influential in determining their behavior than reason is so
that reason lacks authority over what a woman does. This question cannot be
settled here. I will simply point out the vicious circle in which women were
trapped in ancient Greece (and still are in many cultures). The Greeks believed
that women are inferior to men (or at least those Greeks who wrote philosophy,
plays, speeches, and so forth did. These people, of course, were all men. What
Greek women thought of this belief is impossible to say). This belief means
that women are denied access to certain areas of life (such as politics). Denying
them access to these spheres means that they fail to develop the knowledge and
skills to become proficient in them. This lack of knowledge and skills then
becomes evidence to reinforce the original belief that they are inferior.
What else does Aristotle have to say about the rule of
men over women? He says that the rule of the male over the female and that of
the father over children are different in form from the rule of masters over
slaves. Aristotle places the rule of male over female in the household in the
context of the husband over the wife (female children who had not yet been
married would have been ruled by their father. Marriage for girls in Athens
typically took place at the age of thirteen or fourteen). Aristotle says at
1259a40 that the wife is to be ruled in political fashion. We have not yet seen
what political rule looks like, but here Aristotle notes several of its
important features, one of which is that it usually involves "alternation
in ruling and being ruled" (1259b2), and another is that it involves rule
among those who "tend by their nature to be on an equal footing and to
differ in nothing" (1259b5). In this case, however, the husband does not
alternate rule with the wife but instead always rules. Apparently the husband
is to treat his wife as an equal to the degree that it is possible to do so,
but must retain ultimate control over household decisions.
Women have their own role in the household, preserving
what the man acquires. However, women do not participate in politics, since
their reason lacks the authority that would allow them to do so, and in order
to properly fulfill this role the wife must pursue her own telos. This is not the same as that of a
man, but as with a man nature intends her to achieve virtues of the kind that
are available to her: "It is thus evident that…the moderation of a woman
and a man is not the same, nor their courage or justice…but that there is a
ruling and a serving courage, and similarly with the other virtues"
(1260a19). Unfortunately Aristotle has very little to say about what women's
virtues look like, how they are to be achieved, or how women should be
educated. But it is clear that Aristotle believes that as with the master's
superiority to the slave, the man's superiority to a woman is dictated by
nature and cannot be overcome by human laws, customs, or beliefs.
Aristotle concludes the discussion of household rule,
and the first book of the Politics,
by stating that the discussion here is not complete and "must necessarily
be addressed in the [discourses] connected with the regimes" (1260a11). This
is the case because both women and children "must necessarily be educated
looking to the regime, at least if it makes any difference with a view to the
city's being excellent that both its children and its women are excellent. But
it necessarily makes a difference…" (1260a14). "Regime" is one
of the ways to translate the Greek word politeia,
which is also often translated as "constitution" or
"political system." Although there is some controversy about how best
to translate this word, I will use the word "regime" throughout this
article. The reader should keep in mind that if the word
"constitution" is used this does not mean a written constitution of
the sort that most contemporary nation-states employ. Instead, Aristotle
uses politeia (however it
is translated) to mean the way the state is organized, what offices there are,
who is eligible to hold them, how they are selected, and so forth. All of these
things depend on the group that holds political power in the city. For example,
sometimes power is held by one man who rules in the interest of the city as a
whole; this is the kind of regime called monarchy. If power is held by the
wealthy who rule for their own benefit, then the regime is an oligarchy.
We will have much more to say later on the topic of
regimes. Here Aristotle is introducing another important idea which he will
develop later: the idea that the people living under a regime, including the
women and children, must be taught to believe in the principles that underlie
that regime. (In Book II, Chapter 9, Aristotle severely criticizes the Spartan
regime for its failure to properly educate the Spartan women and shows the
negative consequences this has had for the Spartan regime). For a monarchy to
last, for example, the people must believe in the rightness of monarchical rule
and the principles which justify it. Therefore it is important for the monarch
to teach the people these principles and beliefs. In Books IV-VI Aristotle
develops in much more detail what the principles of the different regimes are,
and the Politics concludes
with a discussion of the kind of education that the best regime ought to
provide its citizens.
8. The Politics, Book II
"Cities…that are held to be in a fine
condition" In Book II, Aristotle changes his focus from the household to
the consideration of regimes that are "in use in some of the cities that
are said to be well managed and any others spoken about by certain persons that
are held to be in a fine condition" (1260a30). This examination of
existing cities must be done both in order to find out what those cities do
properly, so that their successes can be imitated, and to find out what they do
improperly so that we can learn from their mistakes. This study and the use of
the knowledge it brings remains one of the important tasks of political
science. Merely imitating an existing regime, no matter how excellent its
reputation, is not sufficient. This is the case "because those regimes now
available are in fact not in a fine condition" (1260a34). In order to
create a better regime we must study the imperfect ones found in the real
world. He will do this again on a more theoretical level in Books IV-VI. We
should also examine the ideal regimes proposed by other thinkers. As it turns
out, however fine these regimes are in theory, they cannot be put into
practice, and this is obviously reason enough not to adopt them. Nevertheless,
the ideas of other thinkers can assist us in our search for knowledge. Keep in
mind that the practical sciences are not about knowledge for its own sake:
unless we put this knowledge to use in order to improve the citizens and the
city, the study engaged in by political science is pointless. We will not
consider all the details of the different regimes Aristotle describes, but some
of them are important enough to examine here.
a. What Kind of Partnership Is a City?
Aristotle begins his exploration of these regimes with
the question of the degree to which the citizens in a regime should be
partners. Recall that he opened the Politics
with the statement that the city is a partnership, and in fact the most
authoritative partnership. The citizens of a particular city clearly share
something, because it is sharing that makes a partnership. Consider some
examples of partnerships: business partners share a desire for wealth;
philosophers share a desire for knowledge; drinking companions share a desire
for entertainment; the members of a hockey team share a desire to win their
game.
So what is it that citizens share? This is an
important question for Aristotle, and he chooses to answer this question in the
context of Socrates' imagined community in Plato's dialogue The Republic. Aristotle has already said
that the regime is a partnership in adjudication and justice. But is it enough
that the people of a city have a shared understanding of what justice means and
what the laws require, or is the political community a partnership in more than
these things? Today the answer would probably be that these things are
sufficient - a group of people sharing territory and laws is not far from how
most people would define the modern state. In the Republic, Socrates argues that the city
should be unified to the greatest degree possible. The citizens, or at least those
in the ruling class, ought to share everything, including property, women, and
children. There should be no private families and no private property. But
this, according to Aristotle, is too much sharing. While the city is clearly a
kind of unity, it is a unity that must derive from a multitude. Human beings
are unavoidably different, and this difference, as we saw earlier, is the
reason cities were formed in the first place, because difference within the
city allows for specialization and greater self-sufficiency. Cities are
preserved not by complete unity and similarity but by "reciprocal
equality," and this principle is especially important in cities where
"persons are free and equal." In such cities "all cannot rule at
the same time, but each rules for a year or according to some other arrangement
or period of time. In this way, then, it results that all rule…"
(1261a30). This topic, the alternation of rule in cities where the citizens are
free and equal, is an important part of Aristotle's thought, and we will return
to it later.
There would be another drawback to creating a city in
which everything is held in common. Aristotle notes that people value and care
for what is their own: "What belongs in common to the most people is
accorded the least care: they take thought for their own things above all, and
less about things common, or only so much as falls to each individually"
(1261b32). (Contemporary social scientists call this a problem of
"collective goods"). Therefore to hold women and property in common,
as Socrates proposes, would be a mistake. It would weaken attachments to other
people and to the common property of the city, and this would lead to each
individual assuming that someone else would care for the children and property,
with the end result being that no one would. For a modern example, many people
who would not throw trash on their own front yard or damage their own furniture
will litter in a public park and destroy the furniture in a rented apartment or
dorm room. Some in Aristotle's time (and since) have suggested that holding
property in common will lead to an end to conflict in the city. This may at
first seem wise, since the unequal distribution of property in a political
community is, Aristotle believes, one of the causes of injustice in the city
and ultimately of civil war. But in fact it is not the lack of common property
that leads to conflict; instead, Aristotle blames human depravity (1263b20). And
in order to deal with human depravity, what is needed is to moderate human desires,
which can be done among those "adequately educated by the laws"
(1266b31). Inequality of property leads to problems because the common people
desire wealth without limit (1267b3); if this desire can be moderated, so too
can the problems that arise from it. Aristotle also includes here the clam that
the citizens making up the elite engage in conflict because of inequality of
honors (1266b38). In other words, they engage in conflict with the other
citizens because of their desire for an unequal share of honor, which leads
them to treat the many with condescension and arrogance. Holding property in
common, Aristotle notes, will not remove the desire for honor as a source of
conflict.
b. Existing Cities: Sparta, Crete, Carthage
In Chapters 9-11 of Book II, Aristotle considers
existing cities that are held to be excellent: Sparta in Chapter 9, Crete in
Chapter 10, and Carthage (which, notably, was not a Greek city) in Chapter 11. It
is noteworthy that when Athens is considered following this discussion (in Chapter
12), Aristotle takes a critical view and seems to suggest that the city has
declined since the time of Solon. Aristotle does not anywhere in his writings
suggest that Athens is the ideal city or even the best existing city. It is
easy to assume the opposite, and many have done so, but there is no basis for
this assumption. We will not examine the particulars of Aristotle's view of
each of these cities. However, two important points should be noted here. One
general point that Aristotle makes when considering existing regimes is that
when considering whether a particular piece of legislation is good or not, it
must be compared not only to the best possible set of arrangements but also the
set of arrangements that actually prevails in the city. If a law does not fit
well with the principles of the regime, although it may be an excellent law in
the abstract, the people will not believe in it or support it and as a result
it will be ineffective or actually harmful (1269a31). The other is that
Aristotle is critical of the Spartans because of their belief that the most
important virtue to develop and the one that the city must teach its citizens
is the kind of virtue that allows them to make war successfully. But war is not
itself an end or a good thing; war is for the sake of peace, and the inability
of the Spartans to live virtuously in times of peace has led to their downfall.
(See also Book VII, Chapter 2, where Aristotle notes the hypocrisy of a city
whose citizens seek justice among themselves but "care nothing about
justice towards others" (1324b35) and Book VII, Chapter 15).
9. The Politics, Book III
a. Who Is the Citizen?
In Book III, Aristotle takes a different approach to
understanding the city. Again he takes up the question of what the city actually
is, but here his method is to understand the parts that make up the city: the
citizens. "Thus who ought to be called a citizen and what the citizen is
must be investigated" (1274b41). For Americans today this is a legal
question: anyone born in the United States or born to American citizens abroad
is automatically a citizen. Other people can become citizens by following the
correct legal procedures for doing so. However, this rule is not acceptable for
Aristotle, since slaves are born in the same cities as free men but that does
not make them citizens. For Aristotle, there is more to citizenship than living
in a particular place or sharing in economic activity or being ruled under the
same laws. Instead, citizenship for Aristotle is a kind of activity: "The
citizen in an unqualified sense is defined by no other thing so much as by
sharing in decision and office" (1275a22). Later he says that
"Whoever is entitled to participate in an office involving deliberation or
decision is, we can now say, a citizen in this city; and the city is the
multitude of such persons that is adequate with a view to a self-sufficient
life, to speak simply" (1275b17). And this citizen is a citizen
"above all in a democracy; he may, but will not necessarily, be a citizen
in the others" (1275b4). We have yet to talk about what a democracy is,
but when we do, this point will be important to defining it properly. When
Aristotle talks about participation, he means that each citizen should
participate directly in
the assembly - not by voting for representatives – and should willingly serve
on juries to help uphold the laws. Note again the contrast with modern Western
nation-states where there are very few opportunities to participate directly in
politics and most people struggle to avoid serving on juries.
Participation in deliberation and decision making
means that the citizen is part of a group that discusses the advantageous and
the harmful, the good and bad, and the just and unjust, and then passes laws
and reaches judicial decisions based on this deliberative process. This process
requires that each citizen consider the various possible courses of action on
their merits and discuss these options with his fellow citizens. By doing so
the citizen is engaging in reason and speech and is therefore fulfilling his
telos, engaged in the process that enables him to achieve the virtuous and
happy life. In regimes where the citizens are similar and equal by nature -
which in practice is all of them – all citizens should be allowed to
participate in politics, though not all at once. They must take turns, ruling
and being ruled in turn. Note that this means that citizenship is not just a
set of privileges, it is also a set of duties. The citizen has certain freedoms
that non-citizens do not have, but he also has obligations (political
participation and military service) that they do not have. We will see shortly
why Aristotle believed that the cities existing at the time did not in fact
follow this principle of ruling and being ruled in turn.
b. The Good Citizen and the Good Man
Before looking more closely at democracy and the other
kinds of regimes, there are still several important questions to be discussed
in Book III. One of the most important of these from Aristotle's point of view
is in Chapter 4. Here he asks the question of "whether the virtue of the
good man and the excellent citizen is to be regarded as the same or as not the
same" (1276b15). This is a question that seems strange, or at least
irrelevant, to most people today. The good citizen today is asked to follow the
laws, pay taxes, and possibly serve on juries; these are all good things the
good man (or woman) would do, so that the good citizen is seen as being more or
less subsumed into the category of the good person. For Aristotle, however,
this is not the case. We have already seen Aristotle's definition of the good
man: the one who pursues his telos, living
a life in accordance with virtue and finding happiness by doing so. What is
Aristotle's definition of the good citizen?
Aristotle has already told us that if the regime is
going to endure it must educate all the citizens in such a way that they
support the kind of regime that it is and the principles that legitimate it. Because
there are several different types of regime (six, to be specific, which will be
considered in more detail shortly), there are several different types of good
citizen. Good citizens must have the type of virtue that preserves the
partnership and the regime: "[A]lthough citizens are dissimilar,
preservation of the partnership is their task, and the regime is [this]
partnership; hence the virtue of the citizen must necessarily be with a view to
the regime. If, then, there are indeed several forms of regime, it is clear
that it is not possible for the virtue of the excellent citizen to be single,
or complete virtue" (1276b27).
There is only one situation in which the virtue of the
good citizen and excellent man are the same, and this is when the citizens are
living in a city that is under the ideal regime: "In the case of the best
regime, [the citizen] is one who is capable of and intentionally chooses being
ruled and ruling with a view to the life in accordance with virtue"
(1284a1). Aristotle does not fully describe this regime until Book VII. For
those of us not living in the ideal regime, the ideal citizen is one who
follows the laws and supports the principles of the regime, whatever that
regime is. That this may well require us to act differently than the good man
would act and to believe things that the good man knows to be false is one of
the unfortunate tragedies of political life.
There is another element to determining who the good
citizen is, and it is one that we today would not support. For Aristotle,
remember, politics is about developing the virtue of the citizens and making it
possible for them to live a life of virtue. We have already seen that women and
slaves are not capable of living this kind of life, although each of these
groups has its own kind of virtue to pursue. But there is another group that is
incapable of citizenship leading to virtue, and Aristotle calls this group
"the vulgar". These are the people who must work for a living. Such
people lack the leisure time necessary for political participation and the
study of philosophy: "it is impossible to pursue the things of virtue when
one lives the life of a vulgar person or a laborer" (1278a20). They are
necessary for the city to exist - someone must build the houses, make the
shoes, and so forth – but in the ideal city they would play no part in
political life because their necessary tasks prevent them from developing their
minds and taking an active part in ruling the city. Their existence, like those
of the slaves and the women, is for the benefit of the free male citizens. Aristotle
makes this point several times in the Politics:
see, for example, VII.9 and VIII.2 for discussions of the
importance of avoiding the lifestyle of the vulgar if one wants to achieve
virtue, and I.13 and III.4, where those who work with their hands are labeled
as kinds of slaves.
The citizens, therefore, are those men who are
"similar in stock and free," (1277b8) and rule over such men by those
who are their equals is political rule, which is different from the rule of
masters over slaves, men over women, and parents over children. This is one of
Aristotle's most important points: "[W]hen [the regime] is established in
accordance with equality and similarity among the citizens, [the citizens]
claim to merit ruling in turn" (1279a8). Throughout the remainder of
the Politics he returns to
this point to remind us of the distinction between a good regime and a bad
regime. The correct regime of polity, highlighted in Book IV, is under
political rule, while deviant regimes are those which are ruled as though a
master was ruling over slaves. But this is wrong: "For in the case of
persons similar by nature, justice and merit must necessarily be the same
according to nature; and so if it is harmful for their bodies if unequal
persons have equal sustenance and clothing, it is so also [for their souls if
they are equal] in what pertains to honors, and similarly therefore if equal
persons have what is unequal" (1287a12).
c. Who Should Rule?
This brings us to perhaps the most contentious of
political questions: how should the regime be organized? Another way of putting
this is: who should rule? In Books IV-VI Aristotle explores this question by
looking at the kinds of regimes that actually existed in the Greek world and
answering the question of who actually does rule. By closely examining regimes
that actually exist, we can draw conclusions about the merits and drawbacks of
each. Like political scientists today, he studied the particular political
phenomena of his time in order to draw larger conclusions about how regimes and
political institutions work and how they should work. As has been mentioned
above, in order to do this, he sent his students throughout Greece to collect
information on the regimes and histories of the Greek cities, and he uses this
information throughout the Politics
to provide examples that support his arguments. (According to Diogenes
Laertius, histories and descriptions of the regimes of 158 cities were written,
but only one of these has come down to the present: the Constitution of Athens mentioned above).
Another way he used this data was to create a typology
of regimes that was so successful that it ended up being used until the time of
Machiavelli nearly 2000 years later. He used two criteria to sort the regimes
into six categories.
The first criterion that is used to distinguish among
different kinds of regimes is the number of those ruling: one man, a few men,
or the many. The second is perhaps a little more unexpected: do those in power,
however many they are, rule only in their own interest or do they rule in the
interest of all the citizens? "[T]hose regimes which look to the common
advantage are correct regimes according to what is unqualifiedly just, while
those which look only to the advantage of the rulers are errant, and are all
deviations from the correct regimes; for they involve mastery, but the city is
a partnership of free persons" (1279a16).
Having established these as the relevant criteria, in
Book III Chapter 7 Aristotle sets out the six kinds of regimes. The correct
regimes are monarchy (rule by one man for the common good), aristocracy (rule
by a few for the common good), and polity (rule by the many for the common
good); the flawed or deviant regimes are tyranny (rule by one man in his own
interest), oligarchy (rule by the few in their own interest), and democracy
(rule by the many in their own interest). Aristotle later ranks them in order
of goodness, with monarchy the best, aristocracy the next best, then polity,
democracy, oligarchy, and tyranny (1289a38). People in Western societies are used
to thinking of democracy as a good form of government - maybe the only good
form of government – but Aristotle considers it one of the flawed regimes
(although it is the least bad of the three) and you should keep that in mind in
his discussion of it. You should also keep in mind that by the "common
good" Aristotle means the common good of the citizens, and not necessarily
all the residents of the city. The women, slaves, and manual laborers are in
the city for the good of the citizens.
Almost immediately after this typology is created,
Aristotle clarifies it: the real distinction between oligarchy and democracy is
in fact the distinction between whether the wealthy or the poor rule (1279b39),
not whether the many or the few rule. Since it is always the case that the poor
are many while the wealthy are few, it looks like it is the number of the
rulers rather than their wealth which distinguishes the two kinds of regimes
(he elaborates on this in IV.4). All cities have these two groups, the many
poor and the few wealthy, and Aristotle was well aware that it was the conflict
between these two groups that caused political instability in the cities, even
leading to civil wars (Thucydides describes this in his History of the Peloponnesian War, and
the Constitution of Athens
also discusses the consequences of this conflict). Aristotle therefore spends a
great deal of time discussing these two regimes and the problem of political
instability, and we will focus on this problem as well.
First, however, let us briefly consider with Aristotle
one other valid claim to rule. Those who are most virtuous have, Aristotle
says, the strongest claim of all to rule. If the city exists for the sake of
developing virtue in the citizens, then those who have the most virtue are the
most fit to rule; they will rule best, and on behalf of all the citizens,
establishing laws that lead others to virtue. However, if one man or a few men
of exceptional virtue exist in the regime, we will be outside of politics:
"If there is one person so outstanding by his excess of virtue - or a
number of persons, though not enough to provide a full complement for the city
– that the virtue of all the others and their political capacity is not
commensurable…such persons can no longer be regarded as part of the city"
(1284a4). It would be wrong for the other people in the city to claim the right
to rule over them or share rule with them, just as it would be wrong for people
to claim the right to share power with Zeus. The proper thing would be to obey
them (1284b28). But this situation is extremely unlikely (1287b40). Instead,
cities will be made up of people who are similar and equal, which leads to
problems of its own.
The most pervasive of these is that oligarchs and
democrats each advance a claim to political power based on justice. For
Aristotle, justice dictates that equal people should get equal things, and
unequal people should get unequal things. If, for example, two students turn in
essays of identical quality, they should each get the same grade. Their work is
equal, and so the reward should be too. If they turn in essays of different
quality, they should get different grades which reflect the differences in
their work. But the standards used for grading papers are reasonably
straightforward, and the consequences of this judgment are not that important,
relatively speaking - they certainly are not worth fighting and dying for. But
the stakes are raised when we ask how we should judge the question of who
should rule, for the standards here are not straightforward and disagreement
over the answer to this question frequently does lead men (and women) to fight
and die.
What does justice require when political power is
being distributed? Aristotle says that both groups - the oligarchs and
democrats – offer judgments about this, but neither of them gets it right,
because "the judgment concerns themselves, and most people are bad judges
concerning their own things" (1280a14). (This was the political problem
that was of most concern to the authors of the United States Constitution:
given that people are self-interested and ambitious, who can be trusted with
power? Their answer differs from Aristotle's, but it is worth pointing out the
persistence of the problem and the difficulty of solving it). The oligarchs assert
that their greater wealth entitles them to greater power, which means that they
alone should rule, while the democrats say that the fact that all are equally
free entitles each citizen to an equal share of political power (which, because
most people are poor, means that in effect the poor rule). If the oligarchs'
claim seems ridiculous, you should keep in mind that the American colonies had
property qualifications for voting; those who could not prove a certain level
of wealth were not allowed to vote. And poll taxes, which required people to
pay a tax in order to vote and therefore kept many poor citizens (including
almost all African-Americans) from voting, were not eliminated in the United
States until the mid-20th century. At any rate, each of these claims to rule,
Aristotle says, is partially correct but partially wrong. We will consider the
nature of democracy and oligarchy shortly.
Aristotle also in Book III argues for a principle that
has become one of the bedrock principles of liberal democracy: we ought, to the
extent possible, allow the law to rule. "One who asks the law to rule,
therefore, is held to be asking god and intellect alone to rule, while one who
asks man adds the beast. Desire is a thing of this sort; and spiritedness
perverts rulers and the best men. Hence law is intellect without appetite"
(1287a28). This is not to say that the law is unbiased. It will reflect the
bias of the regime, as it must, because the law reinforces the principles of
the regime and helps educate the citizens in those principles so that they will
support the regime. But in any particular case, the law, having been
established in advance, is impartial, whereas a human judge will find it hard
to resist judging in his own interest, according to his own desires and
appetites, which can easily lead to injustice. Also, if this kind of power is
left in the hands of men rather than with the laws, there will be a desperate
struggle to control these offices and their benefits, and this will be another
cause of civil war. So whatever regime is in power should, to the extent
possible, allow the laws to rule. Ruling in accordance with one's wishes at any
particular time is one of the hallmarks of tyranny (it is the same way masters
rule over slaves), and it is also, Aristotle says, typical of a certain kind of
democracy, which rules by decree rather than according to settled laws. In
these cases we are no longer dealing with politics at all, "For where the
laws do not rule there is no regime" (1292b30). There are masters and
slaves, but there are no citizens.
10. The Politics, Book IV
a. Polity: The Best Practical Regime
In Book IV Aristotle continues to think about existing
regimes and their limitations, focusing on the question: what is the best
possible regime? This is another aspect of political science that is still
practiced today, as Aristotle combines a theory about how regimes ought to be
with his analysis of how regimes really are in practice in order to prescribe
changes to those regimes that will bring them more closely in line with the
ideal. It is in Book VII that Aristotle describes the regime that would be
absolutely the best, if we could have everything the way we wanted it; here he
is considering the best regime that we can create given the kinds of human beings
and circumstances that cities today find themselves forced to deal with,
"For one should study not only the best regime but also the regime that is
[the best] possible, and similarly also the regime that is easier and more
attainable for all" (1288b37).
Aristotle also provides advice for those that want to
preserve any of the existing kinds of regime, even the defective ones, showing
a kind of hard-headed realism that is often overlooked in his writings. In
order to do this, he provides a higher level of detail about the varieties of
the different regimes than he has previously given us. There are a number of
different varieties of democracy and oligarchy because cities are made up of a
number of different groups of people, and the regime will be different
depending on which of these groups happens to be most authoritative. For
example, a democracy that is based on the farming element will be different
than a democracy that is based on the element that is engaged in commerce, and
similarly there are different kinds of oligarchies. We do not need to consider
these in detail except to note that Aristotle holds to his position that in
either a democracy or an oligarchy it is best if the law rules rather than the
people possessing power. In the case of democracy it is best if the farmers
rule, because farmers will not have the time to attend the assembly, so they
will stay away and will let the laws rule (VI.4).
It is, however, important to consider polity in some
detail, and this is the kind of regime to which Aristotle next turns his
attention. "Simply speaking, polity is a mixture of oligarchy and
democracy" (1293a32). Remember that polity is one of the correct regimes,
and it occurs when the many rule in the interest of the political community as
a whole. The problem with democracy as the rule of the many is that in a
democracy the many rule in their own interest; they exploit the wealthy and
deny them political power. But a democracy in which the interests of the
wealthy were taken into account and protected by the laws would be ruling in
the interest of the community as a whole, and it is this that Aristotle
believes is the best practical regime. The ideal regime to be described in Book
VII is the regime that we would pray for if the gods would grant us our wishes
and we could create a city from scratch, having everything exactly the way we
would want it. But when we are dealing with cities that already exist, their
circumstances limit what kind of regime we can reasonably expect to create. Creating
a polity is a difficult thing to do, and although he provides many examples of
democracies and oligarchies Aristotle does not give any examples of existing
polities or of polities that have existed in the past.
One of the important elements of creating a polity is
to combine the institutions of a democracy with those of an oligarchy. For
example, in a democracy, citizens are paid to serve on juries, while in an
oligarchy, rich people are fined if they do not. In a polity, both of these
approaches are used, with the poor being paid to serve and the rich fined for
not serving. In this way, both groups will serve on juries and power will be
shared. There are several ways to mix oligarchy and democracy, but "The
defining principle of a good mixture of democracy and oligarchy is that it
should be possible for the same polity to be spoken of as either a democracy or
an oligarchy" (1294b14). The regime must be said to be both - and neither
– a democracy and an oligarchy, and it will be preserved "because none of
the parts of the city generally would wish to have another regime"
(1294b38).
b. The Importance of the Middle Class
In addition to combining elements from the
institutions of democracy and oligarchy, the person wishing to create a lasting
polity must pay attention to the economic situation in the city. In Book II of
the EthicsAristotle
famously establishes the principle that virtue is a mean between two extremes. For
example, a soldier who flees before a battle is guilty of the vice of
cowardice, while one who charges the enemy singlehandedly, breaking ranks and
getting himself killed for no reason, is guilty of the vice of foolhardiness. The
soldier who practices the virtue of courage is the one who faces the enemy,
moves forward with the rest of the troops in good order, and fights bravely. Courage,
then, is a mean between the extremes of cowardice and foolhardiness. The person
who has it neither flees from the enemy nor engages in a suicidal and pointless
attack but faces the enemy bravely and attacks in the right way.
Aristotle draws a parallel between virtue in
individuals and virtue in cities. The city, he says, has three parts: the rich,
the poor, and the middle class. Today we would probably believe that it is the
rich people who are the most fortunate of those three groups, but this is not
Aristotle's position. He says: "[I]t is evident that in the case of the
goods of fortune as well a middling possession is the best of all. For [a man
of moderate wealth] is readiest to obey reason, while for one who is [very wealthy
or very poor] it is difficult to follow reason. The former sort tend to become
arrogant and base on a grand scale, the latter malicious and base in petty
ways; and acts of injustice are committed either through arrogance or through
malice" (1295b4). A political community that has extremes of wealth and
poverty "is a city not of free persons but of slaves and masters, the ones
consumed by envy, the others by contempt. Nothing is further removed from
affection and from a political partnership" (1295b22). People in the
middle class are free from the arrogance that characterizes the rich and the
envy that characterizes the poor. And, since members of this class are similar
and equal in wealth, they are likely to regard one another as similar and equal
generally, and to be willing to rule and be ruled in turn, neither demanding to
rule at all times as the wealthy do or trying to avoid ruling as the poor do
from their lack of resources. "Thus it is the greatest good fortune for
those who are engaged in politics to have a middling and sufficient property,
because where some possess very many things and others nothing, either [rule
of] the people in its extreme form must come into being, or unmixed oligarchy,
or - as a result of both of these excesses – tyranny. For tyranny arises from
the most headstrong sort of democracy and from oligarchy, but much less often
from the middling sorts [of regime] and those close to them" (1295b39).
There can be an enduring polity only when the middle
class is able either to rule on its own or in conjunction with either of the
other two groups, for in this way it can moderate their excesses: "Where
the multitude of middling persons predominates either over both of the
extremities together or over one alone, there a lasting polity is capable of
existing" (1296b38). Unfortunately, Aristotle says, this state of affairs
almost never exists. Instead, whichever group, rich or poor, is able to achieve
power conducts affairs to suit itself rather than considering the interests of
the other group: "whichever of the two succeeds in dominating its
opponents does not establish a regime that is common or equal, but they grasp
for preeminence in the regime as the prize of victory" (1296a29). And as a
result, neither group seeks equality but instead each tries to dominate the
other, believing that it is the only way to avoid being dominated in turn. This
is a recipe for instability, conflict, and ultimately civil war, rather than a
lasting regime. For the polity (or any other regime) to last, "the part of
the city that wants the regime to continue must be superior to the part not
wanting this" in quality and quantity (1296b16). He repeats this in Book
V, calling it the "great principle": "keep watch to ensure that
that the multitude wanting the regime is superior to that not wanting it"
(1309b16), and in Book VI he discusses how this can be arranged procedurally
(VI.3).
The remainder of Book IV focuses on the kinds of
authority and offices in the city and how these can be distributed in
democratic or oligarchic fashion. We do not need to concern ourselves with
these details, but it does show that Aristotle is concerned with particular
kinds of flawed regimes and how they can best operate and function in addition
to his interest in the best practical government and the best government
generally.
11. The Politics, Book V
a. Conflict between the Rich and the Poor
In Book V Aristotle turns his attention to how regimes
can be preserved and how they are destroyed. Since we have seen what kind of
regime a polity is, and how it can be made to endure, we are already in a
position to see what is wrong with regimes which do not adopt the principles of
a polity. We have already seen the claims of the few rich and the many poor to
rule. The former believe that because they are greater in material wealth they
should also be greater in political power, while the latter claim that because
all citizens are equally free political power should also be equally
distributed, which allows the many poor to rule because of their superior
numbers. Both groups are partially correct, but neither is entirely correct,
"And it is for this reason that, when either [group] does not share in the
regime on the basis of the conception it happens to have, they engage in
factional conflict" which can lead to civil war (1301a37). While the
virtuous also have a claim to rule, the very fact that they are virtuous leads
them to avoid factional conflict. They are also too small a group to be
politically consequential: "[T]hose who are outstanding in virtue do not
engage in factional conflict to speak of; for they are few against many"
(1304b4). Therefore, the conflict that matters is the one between the rich and
poor, and as we have seen, whichever group gets the upper hand will arrange
things for its own benefit and in order to harm the other group. The fact that
each of these groups ignores the common good and seeks only its own interest is
why both oligarchy and democracy are flawed regimes. It is also ultimately
self-destructive to try to put either kind of regime into practice: "Yet
to have everywhere an arrangement that is based simply on one or the other of
these sorts of equality is a poor thing. This is evident from the result: none
of these sorts of regimes is lasting" (1302a3). On the other hand,
"[O]ne should not consider as characteristic of popular rule or of
oligarchy something tha t will make the city democratically or oligarchically
run to the greatest extent possible, but something that will do so for the
longest period of time" (1320a1). Democracy tends to be more stable than
oligarchy, because democracies only have a conflict between rich and poor,
while oligarchies also have conflicts within the ruling group of oligarchs to
hold power. In addition, democracy is closer to polity than oligarchy is, and
this contributes to its greater stability. And this is an important goal; the
more moderate a regime is, the longer it is likely to remain in place.
Why does factional conflict arise? Aristotle turns to
this question in Chapter 2. He says: "The lesser engage in factional
conflict in order to be equal; those who are equal, in order to be
greater" (1302a29). What are the things in which the lesser seek to be
equal and the equal to be greater? "As for the things over which they
engage in factional conflict, these are profit and honor and their
opposites….They are stirred up further by arrogance, by fear, by preeminence,
by contempt, by disproportionate growth, by electioneering, by underestimation,
by [neglect of] small things, and by dissimilarity" (1302a33). Aristotle
describes each of these in more detail. We will not examine them closely, but
it is worth observing that Aristotle regards campaigning for office as a
potentially dangerous source of conflict. If the city is arranged in such a way
that either of the major factions feels that it is being wronged by the other,
there are many things that can trigger conflict and even civil war; the regime
is inherently unstable. We see again the importance of maintaining a regime
which all of the groups in the city wish to see continue.
Aristotle says of democracies that "[D]emocracies
undergo revolution particularly on account of the wanton behavior of the
popular leaders" (1304b20). Such leaders will harass the property owners,
causing them to unify against the democracy, and they will also stir up the
poor against the rich in order to maintain themselves in power. This leads to
conflict between the two groups and civil war. Aristotle cites a number of
historical examples of this. Oligarchies undergo revolution primarily
"when they treat the multitude unjustly. Any leader is then adequate [to
effect revolution]" (1305a29). Revolution in oligarchical regimes can also
come about from competition within the oligarchy, when not all of the oligarchs
have a share in the offices. In this case those without power will engage in
revolution not to change the regime but to change those who are ruling.
b. How to Preserve Regimes
However, despite all the dangers to the regimes, and
the unavoidable risk that any particular regime will be overthrown, Aristotle
does have advice regarding the preservation of regimes. In part, of course, we
learn how to preserve the regimes by learning what causes revolutions and then
avoiding those causes, so Aristotle has already given us useful advice for the
preservation of regimes. But he has more advice to offer: "In well-blended
regimes, then, one should watch out to ensure there are no transgressions of
the laws, and above all be on guard against small ones" (1307b29). Note,
again, the importance of letting the laws rule.
It is also important in every regime "to have the
laws and management of the rest arranged in such a way that it is impossible to
profit from the offices….The many do not chafe as much at being kept away from
ruling - they are even glad if someone leaves them the leisure for their
private affairs – as they do when they suppose that their rulers are stealing
common [funds]; then it pains them both not to share in the prerogatives and
not to share in the profits" (1308b32).
And, again, it is beneficial if the group that does
not have political power is allowed to share in it to the greatest extent
possible, though it should not be allowed to hold the authoritative offices
(such as general, treasurer, and so forth). Such men must be chosen extremely
carefully: "Those who are going to rule in the authoritative offices ought
to have three things: first, affection for the established regime; next, a very
great capacity for the work involved in rule; third, virtue and justice - in
each regime the sort that is relative to the regime…" (1309a33). It is
difficult to find all three of these in many men, but it is important for the
regime to make use of the men with these qualities to the greatest degree
possible, or else the regime will be harmed, either by sedition, incompetence,
or corruption. Aristotle also reminds us of the importance of the middling
element for maintaining the regime and making it long-lasting; instead of
hostility between the oligarchs and democrats, whichever group has power should
be certain always to behave benevolently and justly to the other group
(1309b18).
"But the greatest of all the things that have
been mentioned with a view to making regimes lasting - though it is now
slighted by all – is education relative to the regimes. For there is no benefit
in the most beneficial laws, even when these have been approved by all those
engaging in politics, if they are not going to be habituated and educated in
the regime – if the laws are popular, in a popular spirit, if oligarchic, in an
oligarchic spirit" (1310a13). This does not mean that the people living in
a democracy should be educated to believe that oligarchs are enemies of the
regime, to be oppressed as much as possible and treated unjustly, nor does it
mean that the wealthy under an oligarchy should be educated to believe that the
poor are to be treated with arrogance and contempt. Instead it means being
educated in the principles of moderate democracy and moderate oligarchy, so
that the regime will be long-lasting and avoid revolution.
In the remainder of Book V Aristotle discusses
monarchy and tyranny and what preserves and destroys these types of regimes. Here
Aristotle is not discussing the kind of monarchies with which most people today
are familiar, involving hereditary descent of royal power, usually from father
to son. A monarch in Aristotle's sense is one who rules because he is superior
to all other citizens in virtue. Monarchy therefore involves individual rule on
the basis of merit for the good of the whole city, and the monarch because of
his virtue is uniquely well qualified to determine what that means. The tyrant,
on the other hand, rules solely for his own benefit and pleasure. Monarchy,
therefore, involving the rule of the best man over all, is the best kind of
regime, while tyranny, which is essentially the rule of a master over a regime
in which all are slaves, is the worst kind of regime, and in fact is really no
kind of regime at all. Aristotle lists the particular ways in which both monarchy
and tyranny are changed and preserved. We do not need to spend much time on
these, for Aristotle says that in his time "there are many persons who are
similar, with none of them so outstanding as to match the extent and the claim
to merit of the office" that would be required for the rule of one man on
the basis of exceptional virtue that characterizes monarchy (1313a5), and
tyranny is inherently extremely short lived and clearly without value. However,
those wishing to preserve either of these kinds of regimes are advised, as
oligarchs and democrats have been, to pursue moderation, diminishing the degree
of their power in order to extend its duration.
12. The Politics, Book VI
a. Varieties of Democracy
Most of Book VI is concerned with the varieties of
democracy, although Aristotle also revisits the varieties of oligarchy. Some of
this discussion has to do with the various ways in which the offices, laws, and
duties can be arranged. This part of the discussion we will pass over. However,
Aristotle also includes a discussion of the animating principle of democracy,
which is freedom: "It is customarily said that only in this sort of regime
do [men] share in freedom, for, so it is asserted, every democracy aims at
this" (1317a40). In modern liberal democracies, of course, the ability of
all to share in freedom and for each citizen to live as one wants is considered
one of the regime's strengths. However, keep in mind that Aristotle believes
that human life has a telos and that the political community should provide
education and laws that will lead to people pursuing and achieving this telos. Given
that this is the case, a regime that allows people to do whatever they want is
in fact flawed, for it is not guiding them in the direction of the good life.
b. The Best Kind of Democracy
He also explains which of the varieties of democracy
is the best. In Chapter 4, we discover that the best sort of democracy is the
one made up of farmers: "The best people is the farming sort, so that it
is possible also to create [the best] democracy wherever the multitude lives
from farming or herding. For on account of not having much property it is
lacking in leisure, and so is unable to hold frequent assemblies. Because they
do not have the necessary things, they spend their time at work and do not
desire the things of others; indeed, working is more pleasant to them than
engaging in politics and ruling, where there are not great spoils to be gotten
from office" (1318b9). This is a reason why the authoritative offices can
be in the hands of the wealthy, as long as the people retain control of
auditing and adjudication: "Those who govern themselves in this way must
necessarily be finely governed. The offices will always be in the hands of the
best persons, the people being willing and not envious of the respectable,
while the arrangement is satisfactory for the respectable and notable. These
will not be ruled by others who are their inferiors, and they will rule justly
by the fact that others have authority over the audits" (1318b33). By
"adjudication" Aristotle means that the many should be certain that
juries should be made up of men from their ranks, so that the laws will be
enforced with a democratic spirit and the rich will not be able to use their
wealth to put themselves above the law. By "authority over the
audits" Aristotle refers to an institution which provided that those who
held office had to provide an accounting of their activities at regular
intervals: where the city's funds came from, where they went, what actions they
took, and so forth. They were liable to prosecution if they were found to have
engaged in wrongdoing or mismanagement, and the fear of this prosecution,
Aristotle says, will keep them honest and ensure that they act according to the
wishes of the democracy.
So we see again that the institutions and laws of a
city are important, but equally important is the moral character of the
citizens. It is only the character of the farming population that makes the
arrangements Aristotle describes possible: "The other sorts of multitude
out of which the remaining sorts of democracy are constituted are almost all
much meaner than these: their way of life is a mean one, with no task involving
virtue among the things that occupy the multitude of human beings who are vulgar
persons and merchants or the multitude of laborers" (1319a24). And while
Aristotle does not say it here, of course a regime organized in this way,
giving a share of power to the wealthy and to the poor, under the rule of law,
in the interest of everyone, would in fact be a polity more than it would be a
democracy.
c. The Role of Wealth in a Democracy
In Chapter 5 of Book VI he offers further advice that
would move the city in the direction of polity when he discusses how wealth
should be handled in a democracy. Many democracies offer pay for serving in the
assembly or on juries so that the poor will be able to attend. Aristotle
advises minimizing the number of trials and length of service on juries so that
the cost will not be too much of a burden on the wealthy where there are not
sources of revenue from outside the city (Athens, for example, received revenue
from nearby silver mines, worked by slaves). Where such revenues exist, he
criticizes the existing practice of distributing surpluses to the poor in the
form of cash payments, which the poor citizens will take while demanding more. However,
poverty is a genuine problem in a democracy: "[O]ne who is genuinely of
the popular sort (i.e. a supporter of democracy) should see to it that the
multitude is not overly poor, for this is the reason for democracy being
depraved" (1320a33). Instead the surplus should be allowed to accumulate
until enough is available to give the poor enough money to acquire land or
start a trade. And even if there is no external surplus, "[N]otables who
are refined and sensible will divide the poor among themselves and provide them
with a start in pursuing some work" (1320b8). It seems somewhat unusual
for Aristotle to be advocating a form of welfare, but that is what he is doing,
on the grounds that poverty is harmful to the character of the poor and this
harms the community as a whole by undermining its stability.
13. The Politics, Book VII
a. The Best Regime and the Best Men
It is in Book VII that Aristotle describes the regime
that is best without qualification. This differs from the discussion of the
best regime in Book IV because in Book IV Aristotle's concern was the best
practical regime, meaning one that it would be possible to bring about from the
material provided by existing regimes. Here, however, his interest is in the
best regime given the opportunity to create everything just as we would want
it. It is "the city that is to be constituted on the basis of what one
would pray for" (1325b35). As would be expected, he explicitly ties it to
the question of the best way of life: "Concerning the best regime, one who
is going to undertake the investigation appropriate to it must necessarily
discuss first what the most choiceworthy way of life is. As long as this is
unclear, the best regime must necessarily be unclear as well…" (1323a14).
We have already discussed the best way of life, as well as the fact that most
people do not pursue it: "For [men] consider any amount of virtue to be
adequate, but wealth, goods, power, reputation, and all such things they seek
to excess without limit" (1323a35). This is, as we have said more than
once, a mistake: "Living happily…is available to those who have to excess
the adornments of character and mind but behave moderately in respect to the
external acquisition of good things" (1323b1). And what is true for the
individual is also true for the city. Therefore "the best city is happy
and acts nobly. It is impossible to act nobly without acting [to achieve] noble
things; but there is no noble deed either of a man or of a city that is
separate from virtue and prudence. The courage, justice, and prudence of a city
have the same power and form as those human beings share in individually who
are called just, prudent, and sound." (1324b30). The best city, like any
other city, must educate its citizens to support its principles. The difference
between this city and other cities is that the principles that it teaches its
citizens are the correct principles for living the good life. It is here, and
nowhere else, that the excellent man and the good citizen are the same.
b. Characteristics of the Best City
What would be the characteristics of the best city we
could imagine? First of all, we want the city to be the right size. Many
people, Aristotle says, are confused about what this means. They assume that
the bigger the city is, the better it will be. But this is wrong. It is
certainly true that the city must be large enough to defend itself and to be
self-sufficient, but "This too, at any rate, is evident from the facts:
that it is difficult - perhaps impossible – for a city that is too populous to
be well managed" (1326a26). So the right size for the city is a moderate
one; it is the one that enables it to perform its function of creating virtuous
citizens properly. "[T]he [city] that is made up of too few persons is not
self-sufficient, though the city is a self-sufficient thing, while the one that
is made up of too many persons is with respect to the necessary things
self-sufficient like a nation, but is not a city; for it is not easy for a
regime to be present" (1326b3). There is an additional problem in a regime
that is too large: "With a view to judgment concerning the just things and
with a view to distributing offices on the basis of merit, the citizens must
necessarily be familiar with one another's qualities; where this does not
happen to be the case, what is connected with the offices and with judging must
necessarily be carried on poorly" (1326b13).
The size of the territory is also an important element
of the ideal regime, and it too must be tailored to the purpose of the regime. Aristotle
says "[the territory should be] large enough so that the inhabitants are
able to live at leisure in liberal fashion and at the same time with
moderation" (1326b29). Again Aristotle's main concern is with life at
peace, not life at war. On the other hand, the city and its territory should be
such as to afford its inhabitants advantages in times of war; "it ought to
be difficult for enemies to enter, but readily exited by [the citizens]
themselves," and not so big that it cannot be "readily
surveyable" because only such a territory is "readily defended"
(1326b41). It should be laid out in such a way as to be readily defensible
(Book VII, Chapters 11-12). It should also be defensible by sea, since proper
sea access is part of a good city. Ideally the city will (like Athens) have a
port that is several miles away from the city itself, so that contact with
foreigners can be regulated. It should also be in the right geographical
location.
Aristotle believed that geography was an important
factor in determining the characteristics of the people living in a certain
area. He thought that the Greeks had the good traits of both the Europeans
(spiritedness) and Asians (souls endowed with art and thought) because of the
Greek climate (1327b23). While the harsh climate to the north made Europeans
hardy and resilient, as well as resistant to being ruled (although Aristotle
did not know about the Vikings, they are perhaps the best example of what he is
talking about), and the climate of what he called Asia and we now call the
Middle East produced a surplus of food that allowed the men the leisure to
engage in intellectual and artistic endeavors while robbing them of
spiritedness, the Greeks had the best of both worlds: "[I]t is both
spirited and endowed with thought, and hence both remains free and governs
itself in the best manner and at the same time is capable of ruling all…" (1327b29).
However, despite the necessary attention to military
issues, when we consider the ideal city, the principles which we have already
elaborated about the nature of the citizens remain central. Even in the ideal
city, constructed to meet the conditions for which we would pray, the need for
certain tasks, such as farming and laboring, will remain. Therefore there will
also be the need for people to do these tasks. But such people should not be
citizens, for (as we have discussed) they will lack the leisure and the
intellect to participate in governing the city. They are not really even part
of the city: "Hence while cities need possessions, possessions are no part
of the city. Many animate things (i.e. slaves and laborers) are part of
possessions. But the city is a partnership of similar persons, for the sake of
a life that is the best possible" (1328a33). The citizens cannot be
merchants, laborers, or farmers, "for there is a need for leisure both
with a view to the creation of virtue and with a view to political
activities" (1329a1). So all the people living in the city who are not
citizens are there for the benefit of the citizens. Any goals, wishes, or
desires that they might have are irrelevant; in Kant's terms, they are treated
as means rather than ends.
Those that live the lives of leisure that are open to
citizens because of the labor performed by the non-citizens (again, including
the women) are all similar to one another, and therefore the appropriate
political arrangement for them is "in similar fashion to participate in
ruling and being ruled in turn. For equality is the same thing [as justice] for
persons who are similar, and it is difficult for a regime to last if its
constitution is contrary to justice" (1332b25). These citizens will only
be able to rule and be ruled in turn if they have had the proper upbringing,
and this is the last major topic that Aristotle takes up in the Politics. Most
cities make the mistake of neglecting education altogether, leaving it up to
fathers to decide whether they will educate their sons at all, and if so what
subject matter will be covered and how it will be taught. Some cities have in
fact paid attention to the importance of the proper education of the young,
training them in the virtues of the regime. Unfortunately, these regimes have
taught them the wrong things. Aristotle is particularly concerned with Sparta
here; the Spartans devoted great effort to bringing up their sons to believe
that the virtues related to war were the only ones that mattered in life. They
were successful; but because war is not the ultimate good, their education was
not good. (Recall that the Spartan education was also flawed because it
neglected the women entirely).
It is important for the person devising the ideal city
to learn from this mistake. Such cities do not last unless they constantly
remain at war (which is not an end in itself; no one pursues war for its own
sake). Aristotle says "Most cities of this sort preserve themselves when
at war, but once having acquired [imperial] rule they come to ruin; they lose
their edge, like iron, when they remain at peace. The reason is that the
legislator has not educated them to be capable of being at leisure"
(1334a6). The proper education must be instilled from the earliest stages of
life, and even before; Aristotle tells us the ages that are appropriate for
marriage (37 for men, 18 for women) in order to bring about children of the
finest quality, and insists on the importance of a healthful regimen for
pregnant women, specifying that they take sufficient food and remain physically
active. He also says that abortion is the appropriate solution when the
population threatens to grow too large (1335b24).
14. The Politics, Book VIII
a. The Education of the Young
Book VIII is primarily concerned with the kind of
education that the children of the citizens should receive. That this is a
crucial topic for Aristotle is clear from its first sentence: "That the
legislator must, therefore, make the education of the young his object above
all would be disputed by no one" (1337a10). It is so important that it
cannot be left to individual families, as was the custom in Greece. Instead,
"Since there is a single end for the city as a whole, it is evident that
education must necessarily be one and the same for all, and that the
superintendence of it should be common and not on a private basis….For common
things the training too should be made common" (1337a21). The importance
of a common education shaping each citizen so as to enable him to serve the
common good of the city recalls the discussion of how the city is prior to the
individual in Book I Chapter 2; as has been quoted already in the discussion
above, "one ought not even consider that a citizen belongs to himself, but
rather that all belong to the city; for each individual is a part of the city"
(1337a26).
He elaborates on the content of this education, noting
that it should involve the body as well as the mind. Aristotle includes
physical education, reading and writing, drawing, and music as subjects which
the young potential citizens must learn. The aim of this education is not
productive or theoretical knowledge. Instead it is meant to teach the young
potential citizens practical knowledge - the kind of knowledge that each of
them will need to fulfill his telos and perform his duties as a citizen. Learning
the subjects that fall under the heading of productive knowledge, such as how
to make shoes, would be degrading to the citizen. Learning the subjects that
would fall under the heading of theoretical knowledge would be beyond the
ability of most of the citizens, and is not necessary to them as citizens.
15. References and Further Reading
The list below is not intended to be comprehensive. It
is limited to works published from 1962 to 2002. Most of these have their own
bibliographies and suggested reading lists, and the reader is encouraged to
take advantage of these.
Translations
of Aristotle
- Barnes, Jonathan, ed. The Complete Works of Aristotle: The Revised Oxford Translation. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984. Two volumes.
- The standard edition of Aristotle's complete works.
- Irwin, Terence, and Gail Fine, eds. Aristotle: Introductory Readings. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., 1996
- As the title suggests, this book includes excerpts from Aristotle's writings. Understanding any of Aristotle's texts means reading it in its entirety, but if you want a book by your side to check cross-references from whichever of his texts you are reading (for example, if the editor of the edition of the Politics you are reading refers to the Ethics), this one should do the trick.
- Aristotle. Nicomachean Ethics. Translated and edited by Roger Crisp. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.
- This translation lacks the scholarly and critical apparatus of the Rowe translation but is still a fine choice.
- Aristotle. Nicomachean Ethics. Translated and edited by Terry Irwin. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing, 1999.
- Aristotle. Nicomachean Ethics. Translated and with an introduction by Martin Ostwald. New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1962.
- The translation used in preparing this entry. A good basic translation.
- Aristotle. Nicomachean Ethics. Translated and with an introduction by David Ross. Revised by J.L. Ackrill and J.O. Urmson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980.
- Updated and revised version of a classic translation from 1925. See also Ross' book on Aristotle below.
- Aristotle. Nicomachean Ethics. Translation and historical introduction by Christopher Rowe; philosophical introduction and commentary by Sarah Broadie. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.
- A very thorough introduction and commentary are included with this translation of theEthics. A good choice for the beginning student - but remember that the introduction and commentary are not meant to substitute for actually reading the text!
- Aristotle. The Politics. Translated and with an introduction by Carnes Lord. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984.
- The translation used in preparing this entry. A useful introduction and very thorough notes, identifying names, places, and terms with which the reader may not be familiar.
- Aristotle. The Politics. Translated by C.D.C. Reeve. Indianapolis : Hackett Publishing, 1998.
- Aristotle. The Politics of Aristotle. Translated by Peter Simpson. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1997.
- Aristotle. The Politics and The Constitution of Athens. Edited by Stephen Everson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996.
- If you're looking for The Constitution of Athens this is a good place to go - and with thePolitics in the same book it's easy to compare the two books to each other. However, the texts are lacking in footnotes, which is a particular problem with the Constitution since it records Athenian history. So, for example, on page 237 we learn that during the rule of the Thirty Tyrants in Athens the rulers chose "ten colleagues to govern the Peiraeus," without any indication that the Peiraeus was the Athenian harbor and its surrounding community, five miles from the city (it is also the setting of Plato's Republic). It would help to have names, places, and concepts defined and explained through footnotes for the beginning student. The more advanced student may wish to consult the four volumes on the Politics in the Oxford University Press's Clarendon Aristotle Series. Volume I, covering Books I and II of the Politics, is by Trevor Saunders; Volume II, on Books III and IV, is by Richard Robinson; Volume III, on Books V and VI, is by David Keyt, and Volume IV, on Books VII and VIII, is by Richard Kraut.
- Aristotle. The Rhetoric. In George A. Kennedy, Aristotle On Rhetoric: A Theory of Civic Discourse.Translated and with an introduction by George A. Kennedy. New York: Oxford University Press, 1991.
- The Rhetoric includes observations on politics and ethics in the context of teaching the reader how to become a rhetorician. Whether or not this requires the student to behave ethically is a matter of some debate. Speaking well in public settings was crucial to attaining political success in the Athenian democracy (and is still valuable today) and much of Aristotle's practical advice remains useful.
Secondary literature - general works on Aristotle
- Ackrill, J. L. Aristotle the Philosopher. New York: Oxford University Press, 1981.
- Adler, Mortimer. Aristotle for Everybody: Difficult Thought Made Easy. New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc., 1978.
- This is probably the easiest-to-read exposition of Aristotle available; Adler says that it is aimed at "everybody - of any age, from twelve or fourteen years upward." Obviously the author has had to make some sacrifices in the areas of detail and complexity to accomplish this, and anyone who has spent any time at all with Aristotle will probably wish to start elsewhere. Nevertheless, the author succeeds to a very great degree in delivering on the promise of the subtitle, expressing the basics of Aristotle's thought in simple language using common examples and straightforward descriptions.
- Barnes, Jonathan. Aristotle: A Very Short Introduction. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000.
- Barnes, Jonathan, ed. The Cambridge Companion to Aristotle. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995.
- "The Companion is intended for philosophical readers who are new to Aristotle," Barnes writes in the Introduction, and the book delivers. Chapter Seven, by D.S. Hutchinson, covers Aristotle's ethical theory; Chapter Eight, by C.C.W. Taylor, his political theory. Barnes himself writes the first chapter on Aristotle's life and work, as well as an excellent introduction which includes an explanation of why no book (or, I would add, encyclopedia article) can substitute for reading the original Aristotelian texts. It also includes the following: "Plato had an influence second only to Aristotle.... But Plato's philosophical views are mostly false, and for the most part they are evidently false; his arguments are mostly bad, and for the most part they are evidently bad." If those remarks provoke any kind of emotional or intellectual response in you, you may as well give up: you are on the way to being a student of philosophy.
- Guthrie, W.K.C. Aristotle: An Encounter. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981.
- Volume 6 of his six volume Cambridge History of Ancient Greek Philosophy written between 1962 and 1981.
- Robinson, Timothy A. Aristotle in Outline. Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, Inc., 1995.
- Another short (125 pages) introduction to Aristotle's thought, with three sections: Wisdom and Science, Aristotle's Ethics, and Politics. It would be an excellent choice for the beginning student or anyone who just wants to be introduced to Aristotle's philosophy. Robinson is sympathetic to Aristotle but also to his readers, keeping things easy to read while at the same time offering enough detail about Aristotle's doctrines to illuminate his entire system and making the interconnections among the various elements of Aristotle's system clear.
- Ross, Sir David. Aristotle. With an introduction by John L. Ackrill. Sixth edition. London: Routledge, 1995.
- This is a classic in the field, now in its sixth edition, having first been published in 1923. Not many books can stay useful for eighty years. "It is not an elementary introduction for the absolute beginner," the introduction says, and that seems right to me, but neither does it require the reader to be an expert. It covers all of Aristotle's work, with chapters on Logic, Philosophy of Nature, Biology, Psychology, Metaphysics, Ethics, Politics, and Rhetoric and Poetics.
- Thompson, Garrett and Marshall Missner. On Aristotle. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 2000.
- Another short (100 page) overview of Aristotle's thought that is too short to be adequate for any one topic (Chapter Nine, Aristotle's view of politics, is less than six pages long) but might be useful for the new student of Aristotle interested in a brief look at the breadth of Aristotle's interests. The book by Barnes included above is to be preferred.
Secondary literature - books on Aristotle's Politics
- Keyt, David, and Fred Miller, eds. A Companion to Aristotle's Politics. London: Blackwell, 1991.
- Kraut, Richard. Aristotle: Political Philosophy. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002.
- An exceptional work of scholarship. Detailed, insightful, and as close to being comprehensive as anyone is likely to get in one book. The text is clearly broken down by topic and sub-topic, and the bibliography will help steer the Aristotle student in the right direction for future research. Kraut also notes other authors who disagree with his interpretation and why he believes they are wrong; this too is helpful for further research. Highly recommended.
- Miller, Fred. Nature, Justice and Rights in Aristotle's Politics. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995.
- Mulgan, R.G. Aristotle's Political Theory: An Introduction for Students of Political Theory. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977.
- Mulgan's book "is intended for students of political theory who are meeting the Politics for the first time and in an English translation." It is divided into subjects rather than following the topics in the order discussed in the Politics as this article has done, with footnotes to the relevant passages in Aristotle's texts. It is nicely detailed and offers excellent discussions (and criticisms) of Aristotle's thought.
- Simpson, Peter. A Philosophical Commentary on the Politics of Aristotle. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1998.
Author Information:
OBRAS:
Categorias (em grego: Κατηγοριαι, em latim: Categoriae) é o texto que abre não apenas o Organon — o conjunto de
textos lógicos de Aristóteles
— como também o Corpus
aristotelicum. O livro é dividido em duas partes: a primeira,
que se estende do capítulo I ao IX, é chamada de Prædicamenta e
considera-se genuinamente aristotélica; já a segunda parte, que se estende do
capítulo X ao XV é chamada de Post-Prædicamenta e não há certeza se a
autoria é de Aristóteles ou de seus discípulos (talvez Teofrasto ou Eudemo).
O
objetivo de Aristóteles nesta obra é classificar e analisar dez tipos de
predicados ou gêneros do ser (κατηγορια significa justamente predicado),
isto é, quais são as dez categorias que todo objeto no mundo pode ser
classificado
As
categorias são: substância (οὐσία, substantia), quantidade (ποσόν, quantitas),
qualidade (ποιόν, qualitas), relação (πρός τι, relatio), lugar
(ποῦ, ubi), tempo (ποτέ, quando), estado (κεῖσθαι, situs),
hábito (ἔχειν, habere), ação (ποιεῖν, actio) e paixão (πάσχειν, passio).
Algumas vezes, as categorias são também chamadas de classes.
Segundo
o filósofo:
As palavras sem combinação umas com as outras significam por si mesmas
uma das seguintes coisas: o que (substância), o quanto (quantidade), o como
(qualidade), com o que se relaciona (relação), onde está (lugar), quando
(tempo), como está (estado), em que circunstância (hábito), atividade (ação) e
passividade (paixão). Dizendo de modo elementar, são exemplos de substância,
homem, cavalo; de quantidade, de dois côvados de largura, ou de três côvados de
largura; de qualidade, branco, gramatical; de relação, dobro, metade, maior; de
lugar, no Liceu, no Mercado; de tempo, ontem, o ano passado; de estado,
deitado, sentado; de hábito, calçado, armado; de ação, corta, queima; de
paixão, é cortado, é queimado (Cat.,
IV, 1 b).
O
conhecimento das categorias deve resultar em uma maior capacidade de análise e
interpretação de elementos e argumentos do discurso. No entanto, trata-se de um
texto de difícil interpretação, já que boa parte de seu conteúdo relaciona-se
(ou pode relacionar-se) muito mais com a metafísica do que com a lógica. Prova dessa ambigüidade é
a Isagoge, de Porfírio.
Nesta obra, Porfírio questiona se os gêneros e as espécies (substâncias
segundas) são realidades subsistentes ou apenas conceitos mentais. Foi
justamente a Isagoge e este questionamento originado pelas Categorias
que veio a desencadear a querela
dos universais na filosofia
medieval.
Da Interpretação (em grego
Περὶ Ἑρμηνείας, em
latim De Interpretatione, abrev. De Int.), é um
texto do filósofo grego Aristóteles de Estagira. É
composto por um único livro (16a–24b)
e não existem dúvidas acerca da autenticidade da obra. É a segunda obra do Organon, sucedendo as Categorias
e antecedendo os Analíticos anteriores, no Corpus
aristotelicum.
O
título original Peri Hermeneias pode sugerir uma associação com hermenêutica. Atualmente,
entende-se por hermenêutica um ramo da filosofia preocupado com a interpretação
crítica de textos. Em grego antigo, no entanto, ἑρμηνεία, hermeneia, tem
como significado principal declarar, anunciar, explicar.
Por esse motivo, a obra é eventualmente chamada De Enuntiatione (e por
ser assim que se traduzia Peri Hermeneias da Isagoge, de Porfírio).
O
tema abordado neste texto possui alguma conexão com a discussão platônica da verdade e falsidade exposta no
diálogo Sofista. Aristóteles discute a relação entre as palavras escritas e as
experiências mentais ou pensamentos,
dos quais as palavras seriam símbolos. O principal problema filosófico que
Aristóteles procura resolver nesta obra é o de elencar os tipos principais de
juízo que se pode formar e os modos de expressá-los usando a linguagem. Os
relacionamentos entre esses vários juízos possíveis são também explorados em
detalhes.
Segundo
o filósofo:
Em primeiro lugar cumpre definir o nome e o verbo, depois, a negação e a
afirmação, a proposição e o juízo. As palavras faladas são símbolos das
afeições da alma, e as palavras escritas símbolos das palavras faladas. E como
a escrita não é igual em toda a parte, também as palavras faladas não são as
mesmas em toda a parte, ainda que as afeições da alma de que as palavras são
signos primeiros, sejam idênticas, tal como são idênticas as coisas de que as
afeições referidas são imagens (De
Int., 16a1–8).
Da interpretação versa sobre
os futuros contingentes, sobre a significação natural e convencional,
universais e particulares, frases declarativas e oposições entre frases
declarativas (contrariedade e contraditoriedade). Além disso, é
nesta obra que se encontra a primeira discussão sobre lógica modal, depois retomada nos
Analíticos anteriores.
Analíticos anteriores (em
grego Αναλυτικων πρότερων, em latim Analytica priora), é um texto
do filósofo grego Aristóteles de
Estagira. É composto por dois livros (I: 71a - 89b, II: 90a - 100b)
e não existem dúvidas acerca da autenticidade da obra. É o terceiro livro do
"Organon", sucedendo Da Interpretação e antecedendo os Analíticos posteriores. Edições mais clássicas traduzem
Αναλυτικων πρότερων por Primeiros analíticos.
Analíticos anteriores é um
dos textos mais importantes não apenas de Aristóteles mas, também, da própria
lógica, já que é nesse texto que o filósofo apresenta sua teoria do silogismo. O texto ocupa-se com
análise dos argumentos de acordo com suas
formas, isto é, de acordo com as várias figuras e modos do silogismo.
Segundo
o filósofo:
"Nossa
primeira tarefa consiste em indicar o objeto de estudo de nossa investigação e
a que ciência ele pertence: que concerne à demonstração e que pertece a uma
ciência demonstrativa. Em seguida teremos de definir o significado de premissa,
termo e silogismo, e distinguir entre um silogismo perfeito e um imperfeito;
depois disso, necessitaremos explicar em que sentido diz-se estar ou não estar
um termo inteiramente contido num outro e o que entendemos por ser predicado de
todo ou de nenhum" (An. Pr., 24a).
Livro I
O
livro I, trata especificamente da teoria do silogismo, e representa o
primeiro estudo significativo de lógica formal, entendendo-se por lógica o
estudo de argumentos formais. Nele Aristóteles identifica argumentos válidos e
inválidos que chamava de deduções e hoje são reconhecidos como silogismos,
uma subclasse da classe deduções. Isto ocorre porque a definição de dedução
fornecida por Aristóteles é muito mais ampla do que o conjunto de silogismos:
"Um silogismo é um argumento que consiste de três proposições: duas
premissas e uma conclusão. Embora Aristóteles não as chame de proposições categóricas,
a tradição que se sucedeu o faz. Ele apenas trata delas muito rapidamente nos Analíticos,
e mais detalhadamente em
Da Interpretação"[1]. Todas as proposições
utilizadas em um silogismo contém um sujeito e um predicado, que são compostos
de termos sujeito e termos predicado, respectivamente. A modo com que eles são
conectados é através da utilização do verbo ser (nas universais, são).
Contudo, em seu texto são encontradas formas que hoje não são ortodoxas, como P
pertence a todo S (ao invés de Todo S é P, como hoje em dia).
Existem
quatro tipos de proposições: Universal Afirmativa, Universal Negativa,
Particular Afirmativa, Particular Negativa. Na tradição medieval foram-lhes
atribuídas as seguintes letras: A, E, I, O, respectivamente.
As Figuras
Nas
proposições das premissas um termo aparecia necessariamente duas vezes, e a ele
Aristóteles chamou de termo médio. Dependendo de sua posição (se Sujeito
ou Predicado) nas proposições que formavam as premissas, o argumento se
enquadrava em determinada figura. Ele mencionava três figura (primeira, segunda
e terceira), porém a tradição "completou" o sistema com a quarta
figura. Se o termo médio é Predicado na primeira premissa, e Sujeito na
segunda, o argumento é de primeira figura. Se ele for Predicado em ambas as
premissas, o argumento é de segunda figura. Caso seja Sujeito em ambas as
premissas, o argumento é da terceira figura. A quarta figura é, na verdade
idêntica a primeira, porém é trocada a ordem das proposições. Assim, nessa
figura, a primeira premissa contém o termo médio como Sujeito e a segunda como
Predicado.
A
distribuição do termo médio em figuras pode ser ilustrada com a seguinte
tabela:
Primeira Figura
|
Segunda Figura
|
Terceira Figura
|
|
Predicado — Sujeito
|
Predicado — Sujeito
|
Predicado — Sujeito
|
|
Premissa Maior
|
A ------------ B
|
B ------------ A
|
A ------------ B
|
Premissa Menor
|
B ------------ C
|
B ------------ C
|
C ------------ B
|
Conclusão
|
A ********** C
|
A ********** C
|
A ********** C
|
Silogismos na Primeira Figura
De
acordo com a mnemotécnica medieval, os silogismos da primeira figura são: Barbara,
Celarent, Darii e Ferio. É possível também obter
silogismos com conclusões enfraquecidas: Barbari e Celaront.
Silogismos na Segunda Figura
De
acordo com a mnemotécnica medieval, os silogismos da segunda figura são: Camestres,
Cesare, Festino e Baroco.
Silogismos na Terceira Figura
De
acordo com a mnemotécnica medieval, os silogismos da terceira figura são: Darapti,
Felapton, Disamis, Datisi, Bocardo e Ferison.
Silogismos na Quarta Figura
Essa
figura foi adicionada, na tradição, por Teofrasto, pupilo de Aristóteles.
Contudo, há evidências de que Aristóteles já conhecia a quarta figura[2]. De acordo com a
mnemotécnica medieval, os silogismos da quarta figura são: Bamalip, Calemes,
Dimatis, Fesapo e Fresison.
Livro II
O livro II, trata das propriedades
do silogismo, falsas conclusões e raciocínios próximos dos silogismo.
Analíticos posteriores (em
grego Αναλυτικων υστερων, em
latim Analytica posteriora), é um texto do
filósofo grego Aristóteles de
Estagira. É composto por dois livros (I ou Α (alfa): 71a1–89b20,
II ou Β (beta):
89b23–100b17)
e não existem dúvidas acerca da autenticidade da obra. É a quarta obra do Organon, sucedendo Analíticos anteriores e antecedendo os Tópicos.
É também intitulado Segundos analíticos.
Em
Analíticos posteriores, Aristóteles ocupa-se com com as necessidades
específicas da demonstração.
Segundo
o filósofo:
"Toda
a didascália e toda a disciplina dianoética se adquirem de um saber que precede
o conhecimento. Isto é evidente seja qual for o saber considerado: a ciência
matemática adquire-se deste modo, tal como as outras artes. O mesmo acontece
com os raciocínios dialéticos, sejam eles feitos por silogismo ou por indução,
porque todos eles ensinam através de um conhecimento anterior: no primeiro
caso, assumindo que as premissas são admitidas pelo outro, no segundo caso,
demonstrando o universal mediante o particular já conhecido. Por outro lado, é
de análogo modo que os argumentos retóricos persuadem, uma vez utilizarem, ou
paradigmas, o que é uma espécie de indução, ou entimemas, o que não deixa de
constituir um silogismo" (An. Post., 71a).
O livro I, trata
especificamente das condições formais da demonstração;
O livro II, trata da teoria
da definição e da causa.
Tópicos é o nome de um dos
seis trabalhos de Aristóteles coletivamente
conhecidos como Órganon (os outros cinco são: Categorias, Da Interpretação, Analíticos Anteriores, Analíticos Posteriores e Elencos Sofísticos)[1]. Os Tópicos
constituem o tratado de aristóteles sobre a arte dialética - a invenção e
descoberta de argumentos em que as proposições se apoiam em opiniões comuns[2] ou endoxa (ἔνδοξα,
em grego). Os tópicos (τόποι) são "lugares" de onde tais
argumentos podem ser descobertos ou inventados.
1. Aristóteles. Órganon.
Tradução do grego, textos adicionais e notas de Edson BINI. Bauru: Edipro,
2005. 608p. pp. 81-110 .
2. Estas "opiniões
comuns" não são meramente noções populares dos homens na rua sobre
qualquer assunto; ao contrário, ενδοξα são lugares comuns da razão sobre os
quais aqueles que disputam conscientemente (todos os homens, a maior parte dos
homens, a maior parte dos homens sábios ou os mais conhecidos dentre os sábios)
concordam em princípio - isto é, aquilo que é "sacralizado"
(emprestando um termo religioso) na opinião ou na crença daqueles que disputam.
Os Elencos Sofísticos são o
sexto e último dos tratados lógicos de Aristóteles, reunidos sob o
título de Organon, que trata dos sofismas, das anfibologias e falácias. Aristóteles refuta, nele, por exemplo, o Paradoxo do mentiroso.
Conteúdo da obra
Nesta
obra, Aristóteles analisa e classifica os diferentes tipos de paralogismos que as pessoas
empregam ao refutar seus interlocutores em um debate dialético. Aristóteles
reconhece treze falácias:
Falácias verbais[1]
- Acento ou ênfase;
- Anfibologia;
- Equívoco;
- Composição;
- Divisão;
- Figura de linguagem.
Falácias de conteúdo
- Acidente;
- Afirmação do consequente;
- Acidente oposto;
- Conclusão irrelevante;
- Petitio principii;
- Causa questionável;
- Pergunta complexa.
Física (gr: Φυσικής Ἄκροασεως
(auscultação da natureza), lat.: Naturalis Auscultationis) é uma
importante obra de filosofia de Aristóteles. É uma coleção de
tratados, ou lições, que lidam com os princípios mais gerais (filosóficos) do
movimento, tanto de seres
vivos como de corpos inanimados, ao invés de teorias físicas no
sentido atual ou investigações sobre um assunto particular do universo.
Mudança, mutação ou movimento (kinesis) é
o tema principal da obra. A primeira edição completa de Física é a de Andrônico de Rodes, que organizou
completamente a série de obras sobre física aristotélica, cosmologia e
biologia, as quais são fundamentadas pela Física. O título em grego antigo
desses tratados - τὰ φυσικά - significa [escritos] sobre a natureza ou filosofia
natural.
Os livros
A
obra Física é composta por oito livros, que são divididos em capítulos. Neste artigo, os
livros são referenciados por números romanos e os capítulos por números
arábicos. Além disso, os números
de Bekker indicam a página, a coluna ('a' ou 'b') e a linha
utilizadas na edição das obras de Aristóteles pela Academia de Ciências da Prússia, sob a direção de Immanuel
Bekker.
Livro I
O
livro I discute a abordagem científica à natureza e ao mundo das coisas
moventes e mutantes, além das doutrinas dos filósofos
naturais pré-socráticos, em particular Parmênides. Os tópicos incluem:
observação fiel da natureza e
rigor no método, uma discussão sobre como seus antepassados viam a natureza, e
os elementos básicos do movimento. Os elementos do movimento, ou categorias do
movimento, são: uma propriedade (privação), que é dominada por seu
oposto (a forma), com ambos fazendo parte de uma essência imutável (o substrato,
que pode ser a matéria, na mudança substancial, ou a substância,
na mudança acidental), a qual não desaparece ao longo da mudança. A monografia
de 1966 de Connell é particularmente uma ótima extensão e defesa do conteúdo
deste livro.
A
abordagem de Aristóteles para o mundo, resumida no capítulo 1, consiste em
partir dos aspectos mais gerais (e, portanto, corretos) do mundo sensível (por
exemplo, "algumas coisas se movem") antes de prosseguir com aspectos
mais específicos (por exemplo, "ratos silvestres movem-se
diariamente"). Esta abordagem contrasta com a da ciência moderna, que
começa com particularidades antes de avançar para generalidades.
O
conceito aristotélico de matéria (em grego: hyle) é bastante diferente
do que nós, conteporâneos, podemos esperar do uso desta palavra na ciência
empírica moderna. Ao invés de ser definida axiomaticamente como tudo aquilo
que ocupa um espaço,[1] a matéria no pensamento
de Aristóteles é definida operacionalmente como o que subjaz uma mudança
substancial. Por exemplo, um cavalo come capim: o cavalo converte o capim
para si; a grama não permanece no cavalo, mas em alguns dos seus aspectos – a
sua matéria. A matéria não é descrita especificamente (por exemplo, em termos
de átomos), mas consiste naquilo que
permanece na transformação da substância, de capim para cavalo.
Livro II
O
livro II introduz a definição de natureza (em grego, física):
"A natureza é um certo princípio e causa pelo qual aquilo em que
primeiramente se encontra move-se ou repousa por si mesmo" (1.192b 21).
Assim, as entidades originalmente naturais são capazes de se movimentar
sozinhas como, por exemplo, o crescimento dos seres vivos, os quais adquirem
qualidades, deslocam-se e, finalmente, nascem e morrem. Aristóteles contrasta o natural com o artificial:
seres artificiais também podem se mover, mas eles se movem de acordo com aquilo
de que são feitos, não de acordo com aquilo que são. Por exemplo, se uma cama de madeira fosse
enterrada e de alguma forma brotasse como uma árvore, isto concordaria com o
que a cama é feita, não com o que ela é. Aristóteles contrasta dois
significados para a natureza: natureza como matéria e natureza como forma, ou
explicação.
Por
natureza, Aristóteles se refere à natureza de coisas particulares —
talvez fosse melhor traduzir uma natureza (o grego ático carece de artigos
indefinidos). Sua visão da natureza como a origem real das
atividades das coisas contrasta com a abordagem tipicamente reducionista das ciências
modernas empíricas. As mais recentes
buscam encontrar as origens do movimento em partes de objetos. Embora
Aristóteles admita com certeza que partes de matéria ou a matéria é uma
verdadeira causa das coisas (a saber, a causa material), ele diz que a natureza
é principalmente a forma ou a causa formal (1.193b 6).
No
capítulo 3, Aristóteles apresenta a sua teoria das quatro
causas (material, eficiente ou motora, formal e final).[2] Uma causa de particular
importância é a causa final ou finalidade (telos). É um erro comum pensar nas quatro causas como forças
conjuntas ou alternativas que empurram ou puxam um objeto. Na realidade, todas
elas são necessárias para explicar uma mudança (7.198a 22-25). O que nós normalmente
entendemos por causa, numa expressão moderna e científica, é apenas uma pequena
parte do que Aristóteles entende por causa eficiente.[3]
Ele
contrasta a finalidade com uma maneira com a qual a natureza não costuma lidar:
o acaso (ou sorte), discutida nos
capítulos 4, 5 e 6. (O acaso operando nas ações de seres humanos é tuche,
sorte, e em agentes irracionais é automaton, casualidade.) As coisas
acontecem ao acaso quando todas as linhas de causalidade convergem sem uma
escolha proposital, o que produz um resultado semelhante ao que a teleologia ocasiona.
Nos
capítulos 7 a
9, Aristóteles retorna à discussão da natureza. Por meio da discussão dos
últimos quatro capítulos, ele conclui que a natureza age em busca de um
objetivo e discute o modo com que a necessidade está presente nas coisas
naturais. Para Aristóteles, o movimento dos objetos naturais é determinado a
partir de um agente interno, enquanto que nas modernas ciências empíricas o
movimento é determinado a partir de algo externo (mais propriamente: não é
preciso haver nada interno).
Livro III
Com
o objetivo de compreender a natureza como definida no livro anterior, deve-se
primeiro compreender as hipóteses da
definição dada. Para entender o movimento, o livro III começa com uma definição
controversa do movimento baseada nas noções aristotélicas de potência e ato.[4] A mudança, diz ele, é a
realização do que é submetido o objeto, a realização de uma possibilidade.[5]
Já
o restante do livro (capítulos 4
a 8) discute o infinito (apeiron, o ilimitado).
Ele faz uma distinção entre o infinito de composição e o infinito de divisão e
entre o infinito atual
(ou real: em ato, o agora) e o infinito potencial (em potência). Ele argumenta
contra a existência do infinito atual em todas as formas, incluindo organismos,
substâncias e vazios ilimitados. Aqui, Aristóteles diz que o único tipo de
infinito que existe é o potencial. Ele o caracteriza como aquilo que serve como
"o sujeito da conclusão de uma magnitude e, potencialmente (mas não
atualmente), um todo" (207a 22-23). O infinito, desprovido de qualquer
forma, é assim incognoscível. Aristóteles escreve: "Não é que existe algo
além que é infinito, mas sim porque além dele sempre existe algo."
(6.206b33-207a1-2).
Livro IV
O
livro IV discute os pressupostos do movimento: o lugar (topos, capítulos
1 a 5), o
vácuo (capítulos 6 a
9) e o tempo (kronos, capítulos
10-14). O livro começa por distinguir as diferentes formas que um corpo pode
“estar sob o poder” de outro. Ele compara o lugar a um recipiente imóvel ou um
vaso: "o limite imóvel e mais íntimo que o circunda" é o lugar
inicial de um corpo (4.212a20). Ao contrário do espaço, que é um volume que
coexiste com um corpo, o lugar é a fronteira, ou superfície.
Ele
ensina que, contrariamente aos atomistas e
outros, o vazio não é só inútil, mas leva a contradições lógicas, como por
exemplo, tornando o movimento impossível. Contrariando a crença popular e
muitos dos chamados discípulos de Aristóteles, o que ele chama de vazio não é o
mesmo que uma falta de ar ou de outro corpo sensível (o que hoje se chama de vácuo, cf. 6.213a23-29).
O
tempo é um aspecto constante do movimento e, no pensamento de Aristóteles, não
existe por si próprio: é relativo aos movimentos. O tempo é definido como
"o número do movimento segundo o aspecto do antes e depois",
por isso o tempo não pode existir sem uma sucessão. Aristóteles, ao que parece,
diz que a existência do tempo exige a presença de uma alma capaz de
"contar" o movimento.
Livros V e VI
Os
livros V e VI lidam com a forma como o movimento ocorre. O livro V classifica
quatro espécies de movimento, mudança, dependendo de onde os oponentes se
encontram. As categorias do movimento são: a quantidade (por exemplo, a
mudança de dimensões; acrescimento e diminuição), a qualidade (como por
cores: do claro ao escuro — mudança de propriedade, alteração), o lugar
(movimentos espaciais ocorrem geralmente para cima ou para baixo; é a
translação) e a substância, forma mais controversa. Na verdade,
substâncias não têm opostos (antônimos), por isso, é inadequado dizer que algo
se transforma convenientemente de não-homem a homem: a geração e a corrupção
não são kinesis no sentido pleno.
O
livro VI discute como um objeto que se move pode atingir uma determinação
oposta, caso tenha de passar por infinitas etapas intermediárias. Através de
argumentos racionais e lógicos, ele investiga as noções de continuidade
e divisão do espaço e do tempo, estabelecendo que o movimento — e,
conseqüentemente, o tempo e o lugar — não são divisíveis infinitamente, mas
apenas divisíveis: não são finitos
no sentido matemático, mas contínuos, isto é, divisíveis ilimitadamente. Em
outras palavras, não é possível construir um continuum (continuidade
absoluta) de pontos ou instantes finitos e indivisíveis. Entre outras coisas,
isso implica que não pode haver um instante exato (indivisível) quando um
movimento começa. Essa discussão, juntamente com a de velocidade e o
comportamento distinto das quatro espécies diferentes de movimentos, eventualmente,
ajuda Aristóteles a responder os famosos paradoxos de Zenão (incluindo o
de Aquiles e a
tartaruga), que pretendem demonstrar o absurdo da existência do
movimento.
Livro VII
O
livro VII lida brevemente com a relação entre aquilo que se move e aquilo que é
movido, o que Aristóteles descreve em divergência substancial com a teoria de Platão ao dizer que a alma é o
agente capaz de se definir em movimento (Leis, livro X de Phaedos,
Fedro, Fédon). Todo corpo que se
move é movido por outro corpo. Em seguida, ele tenta correlacionar as espécies
de movimentos e suas velocidades com a mudança de posição (locomoção, phorà)
mais fundamental, aos quais os outros podem ser reduzidos.
O
livro VII chegou aos tempos de hoje numa versão alternativa, não incluída na
edição de Bekker.
Livro VIII
O livro VIII (que ocupa quase um quarto de
toda a obra Física e, provavelmente, o original constitui um curso
independente) discute dois temas principais, embora com uma distribuição ampla
de argumentos: o tempo limite do universo e a existência de um motor primordial — eterno,
indivisível, sem partes e imensurável. Será que o universo não é eterno? Pode
existir um início? Ele nunca vai acabar? A resposta de Aristóteles, como a de
todo grego, dificilmente poderia ser afirmativa, nunca ter sido dita de uma criação ex nihilo (para a primeira
aparição deste conceito na filosofia, consulte Santo Agostinho), mas ele também
tem razões filosóficas para negar que o movimento não existe pra sempre, sob os
fundamentos da teoria apresentada nos livros anteriores da obra Física.
O movimento eterno também é confirmado pela existência de almas: uma substância
que difere de todas as outras por não ser constituída de matéria, sendo então
uma forma pura e também uma entidade eterna, não sendo imperfeita sob qualquer
aspecto, portanto, imóvel. Isso é demonstrado através da descrição dos corpos
celestes: as primeiras coisas a se moverem devem ser submetidas a um movimento
infinito, único e contínuo, isto é, circular. Tal movimento não é causado por
qualquer contato, mas (integrando a visão contida em Metafísica, livro XII) é um
resultado do amor e da inspiração.
a geração e da corrupção (em
grego Περὶ γενεσεως και φθορας, em
latim De generatione et corruptione), é um
texto do filósofo grego Aristóteles de
Estagira. É composto por dois livros (I: 314a - 328b, II: 328b 26 -
338b) e não existem dúvidas acerca da autenticidade da obra. Com este nome, o
texto é mencionado em dois catálogos da Antigüidade sobre Aristóteles: um
de autoria anônima e no catálogo árabe de Ibn-el-Kifti e Ibn-el-Oseiba. O texto não é mencionado no catálogo de Diógenes
Laércio.
O
objetivo de Aristóteles nesta obra é analisar o problema do movimento, problema
esse que remonta a Parmênides
e Heráclito. A geração e a
corrupção caracterizam o maior nível de transformação possível que pode afetar
um ente na região sublunar. Aristóteles faz uma distinção cuidadosa das outras
formas de mudança (movimento), como o aumento, a dimunuição, a alteração
e a translação.
Segundo
o filósofo:
"No que diz respeito à geração e à corrupção dos entes que se geram
e se destroem por natureza, devemos distinguir, em todos eles do mesmo modo,
suas causas e definições; ademais, é preciso determinar qual é o aumento e a
alteração, e se por acaso se deve considerar que a alteração e a geração têm a
mesma natureza ou se, pelo contrário, são diversas, tal como se diferenciam
também quanto aos nomes que levam" (De Gen. et Corr., 314a).
Nesta
obra, Aristóteles também apresenta sua famosa doutrina das quatro
causas e dos quatro elementos (fogo, ar, água e terra). Combinadas,
elas permitem explicar a geração e a corrupção e, além disso, fornecem
elementos para a contestação do atomismo,
teoria que o filósofo julgava equivocada.
Meteorologia (em latim: Meteorologica
ou Meteora) é um tratado de Aristóteles que contem suas
teorias sobre o planeta Terra. Inclui observações antigas sobre a água,
evaporação, fenômenos climáticos, terremotos, entre outros.
Metafísica (em grego antigo: Μετά τα φυσικά, translit. metà ta physikà,
"depois dos livros de Física",
mas também "além das coisas físicas") é uma série de tratados escritos por Aristóteles (século IV a.C.), organizados em
um conjunto de quatorze livros após a morte do filósofo, por Andrônico
de Rodes, que também deu o título de Metafísica ao conjunto.
O termo 'metafísica' jamais é empregado por Aristóteles em nenhum desses
livros: ele usa a expressão filosofia primeira, ciência das causas
primeiras, dos primeiros princípios e da finalidade de tudo o que é, enquanto
é.
Trata-se
de uma das principais obras aristotélicas e o primeiro grande trabalho sobre a
própria metafísica.
Seu objecto de investigação não é qualquer ser, mas o ser enquanto ser geral,
ou seja, o que pode ser afirmado sobre qualquer coisa que existe por causa de
sua existência e não por causa de algum atributo que essa coisa tenha. A obra
também aborda os diferentes tipos de causas, forma e matéria, a existência dos
objectos matemáticos e de Deus. Ela estuda
o inteiro, o geral e não apenas as partes e isso não se resume ao
transcendente. Por exemplo, se alguém imagina que só tem existência o que está
no mundo sensível e que esse mundo sensível é totalmente material, ele assume
uma posição metafísica, pois está lidando com o ser inteiro, geral em vez de
suas partes, com a natureza do ser.
Na
Metafísica, Aristóteles define as quatro causas das coisas, a seguir explicadas
em termos simplificados:
- Causa formal — é a forma ou essência da coisa (um objeto se define pela sua forma).
- Causa material — é a matéria de que uma coisa é feita (a matéria na qual consiste o objeto).
- Causa eficiente — é a origem da coisa (aquilo ou aquele que tornou possível o objeto).
- Causa final — é a razão de algo existir (a finalidade do objeto).
Da alma (em grego Περί
Ψυχής, transl. Perí psychés; em latim, De Anima), é um texto do filósofo grego Aristóteles de Estagira. É
composto por três livros (I: 402a - 411b, II: 412a - 424 b 20, III: 424b 22 -
435b) e não existem dúvidas acerca da autenticidade da obra.
O
objetivo de Aristóteles nesta obra é analisar os principais problemas
respeitantes à alma, que é o princípio vital de todo e qualquer ser vivo. O
livro I consiste em uma introdução e contextualização do tema abordado; o livro
II apresenta análises sobre a relação entre alma e corpo, as faculdades da
alma, nutrição e sensação; no livro III Aristóteles discute a imaginação e o
pensamento, além das relações entre sensação e intelecto.
Segundo
o filósofo:
"Ao considerar o conhecimento como se encontrando entre as coisas
mais belas e dignas do maior valor, sendo umas mais penosas do que outras, quer
em virtude do seu maior rigor quer em virtude de dizer respeito a coisas mais
belas e elevadas, decidimos, devido a essas duas mesmas causas, considerar toda
a investigação respeitante à alma como sendo de importância fundamental" (De An., 402a).
É
também neste tratado, mais especificamente no livro III, que o filósofo
apresenta sua influente teoria do intelecto ativo e do intelecto passivo.
Dos sonhos (em grego
clássico, Περὶ ἐνυπνίων; em latim, De insomniis) é um dos tratados
curtos que compõem a Parva
Naturalia de Aristóteles. Nesta obra
Aristóteles fala sobre a ilusão da "percepção dos sentidos", que
durante o sono é devido ao funcionamento impróprio dos sentidos, libertado
através da formação de sonhos, sem correção pelo julgamento. Para ele, ambos
percepção e pensamentos não podem formar nenhuma parte no processo do sonho .[1]
Da Longevidade e Brevidade da Vida (em grego clássico, Περὶ μακροβιότητος καὶ βραχυβιότητος; em
latim, De longitudine et brevitate vitae) é um texto escrito pelo
filósofo grego antigo Aristóteles
e um dos Parva
Naturalia. Aristótles explica em um curto capítulo que a corrupção
dos entes físicos ocorre por dois motivos: ou por causa de possuírem um
contrário ou por causa do ambiente em que vivem favorecer ou dificultar sua
subsitência.[1]
Da memória e reminiscência
(em latim, De memoria et reminiscentia, em grego Περι Μνημης και
Αναμνησεος) é um dos tratados que compõem a Parva Naturalia de Aristóteles.
Estes
dois conceitos são bem diferenciados na obra do "Filósofo". A memória
não é apenas a capacidade para recordar, mas tem a ver também com o intelecto
que o humano possui, no momento em que pode julgar após uma sensação
específica. A questão da reminiscência é muito mais complexa. O juízo da pessoa
é formulado não apenas com uma sensação, mas com um conjunto delas. A
reminiscência tem a ver com um leque de vivências que fazem com que a pessoa se
lembre de várias coisas como se fossem elos de uma corrente. Em português,
pode-se utilizar metaforicamente a diferença entre lembrar e decorar, como
análogos da diferença entre reminiscência e de memória.
Da adivinhação pelo sonho
(em grego clássico, Περὶ τῆς καθ᾽ ὕπνον μαντικῆς; em latim, De
divinatione per somnum) é um texto de Aristóteles em que o filósofo
discute sonhos precognitivos.
O
tratado, um dos Parva
Naturalia, é uma antigo questionamento (provavelmente o primeiro
formal) sobre o fenômeno. Em sua consideração cética de tais sonhos,
Aristóteles argumenta que, ainda que "o responsável por tais sonhos seja
Deus", é, contudo, o caso de que "aqueles a quem ele os envia não são
os melhores e os mais sábios, mas meramente pessoas comuns" (i,
462b20-22). Assim, "a maior parte dos sonhos, porém, deve ser classificada
como mera coincidência" (i, 463a31-b1).
Da sensação e do sensível
(em grego clássico, Περὶ αἰσθήσεως καὶ αἰσθητῶν; em latim, De sensu
et sensibilibus, De sensu et sensili, De sensu et sensato) é
um dos breves tratados que compõem os Parva Naturalia de Aristóteles.
Foi
comentado por Alexandre
de Afrodísias, Averróis e Tomás de
Aquino, entre outros.
Do sono e da vigília (em latim De somno
et vigilia) é um texto de Aristóteles que faz parte do Parva Naturalia. Nesta obra
Aristóteles considera dormir e caminhar como afeições ao corpo e à alma, como
um todo, o sono é a inatividade do senso comum primário.[1][2]
Sobre o céu ou Do
céu (em latim: De Caelo ou De Caelo et Mundo) é o tratado
cosmológico chefe de Aristóteles: ele contém toda a
sua teoria astronômica. Não deve ser confundido com o trabalho espúrio Sobre o Universo (De mundo,
também conhecido como Sobre o cosmos).
Segundo
Aristóteles, os corpos celestes são os objetos (ou substâncias) mais
perfeitos que existem, cujos movimentos são regidos por princípios distintos
daqueles válidos para os corpos na esfera sublunar. Estes últimos são compostos por um ou por
todos os quatro
elementos clássicos (terra, água, ar, fogo), que são deterioráveis,
enquanto que a matéria celeste é constituída por éter inextinguível, por isso os
corpos não estão sujeitos à geração e corrupção. Consequentemente, seus movimentos
são eternos e perfeitos, e o movimento perfeito é o circular que, ao contrário
dos movimentos terrestres, para cima e para baixo, por si só pode durar
eternamente. As substâncias corpos celestes possuem matéria (éter) e forma: ao
que parece, Aristóteles os considerava como seres vivos, com uma alma racional
como forma (ver também Metafísica,
livro XII).
Da Juventude e da Velhice, Da Vida e da
Morte, Do Fôlego (em grego, Περὶ νεότητος καὶ γήρως, καὶ ζωῆς καὶ
θανάτου, καὶ ἀναπνοῆς; em latim, De Juventute et Senectute, De Vita et
Morte, De Respiratione) é um dos tratados breves que constituem a Parva
Naturalia de Aristóteles.
Estrutura e conteúdo
Posição no Parva Naturalia
Comparado
aos cinco primeiros tratados do Parva Naturalia, este e Da longevidade e brevidade da vida,
enquanto tratam com o fenômeno natural envolvendo corpo e alma, são "mais
biológicos que psicológicos"[1]. Foram omitidos do
comentário sobre o Parva Naturalia feito por Sofonias.
Título e divisões do tratado
Edições
modernas dividem o tratado em vinte e sete capítulos. A edição Bekker
dos trabalhos de Aristóteles distinguiu dois trabalhos, De Senectude et
Juventude (capítulos 1-6), e De Respiratione (capítulos 7-27, por
esta razão citado às vezes como De Respiratione, capítulos 1-21).
Contudo, os manuscritos não dão base para tal distinção, e os conteúdos não são
corretamente descritos por tais rótulos; juventude e velhice apenas ganham
atenção como "parte da explicação da vida como um todo" no capítulo
24. O trabalho pode, ao contrário, ser considerado como um único tratado sobre
a vida, a morte e as funções necessárias à vida: nutrição e respiração[2]. O título Da
Juventude, da Velhice, Da Vida, da Morte e do Fôlego, utilizado em
manuscritos medievais, deriva das palavras de abertura do tratado:
"Devemos agora tratar da juventude e da velhice e da vida e da morte. Nós
devemos também, ao mesmo temmpo, formular as causas da respiração também, posto
que em alguns casos o viver e o não viver dependem disso[3]. Esta sentença explica
como a respiração é uma parte do assunto mais geral sobre a vida e a morte.
Enquanto De Vita et Morte pode, então, parecer um título mais
satisfatório para o trabalho (Ptolomeu Queno se refere ao tratado completo desta forma),
juventude e velhice são aspectos importantes do assunto, porque a concepção de
Aristótele "não é de uma vida constante e invariável, mas de um círculo
natural de desenvolvimento e decadência"[2].
O coração como órgão primário da alma
Aristóteles
começa levantando a questão do lugar da alma no corpo ("Enquanto é claro
que a realidade essencial da alma não pode ser corpórea, ainda assim, ela deve
manifestamente existir em alguma parte do corpo que deve ser aquela que tem o
controle dos membros") e chega à resposta do coração como órgão primário
da alma, e o órgão central da nutrição e sensação (com que os órgãos dos cinco
sentidos se comunicam)[4]. O motivo desta
"decepcionante característica da fisiologia Aristotélica" é matéria
de conjecturas; a importância do cérebro havia sido sugerida antes de
Aristóteles por Alcmeão de
Crotona (baseado "no fato de que os órgãos finais de cheiro e
visão estavam ligados ao cérebro", com que Aristóteles estava
familiarizado[5]) e havia sido aceita
por Diógenes
de Apolônia, Demócrito
de Abdera e Platão[4].
Coração, pulmões e respiração
As
observações de Aristóteles sobre o coração dá uma das indicações mais claras de
que ele era familiriaziado com as teorias médicas de algumas partes dos Tratados hipocráticos. Entre outras dívidas, "sua
comparação do sistema pulmão-coração a um fole duplo (capítulo 26, 480a20-23) é
claramente emprestada do tratado mais breve 'De Victu'"[4]. Isto é, o coração
("substância quente" em animais) está dentro dos pulmões ("o
órgão primário de resfriamento", função também realizada pelas guelras); o
coração expande sob a influência do calor, forçando os pulmões a expandir sob a
mesma influência, causando inalação, e esta introdução de ar frio de fora causa
contração e exalação. Neste processo contínuo, "respiração e vida são
inseparáveis"[6].
O ciclo da vida
O
capítulo vinte e quatro dá várias definições que resumem a teoria de
Aristóteles[6]:
·
geração (nascimento) - a
participação inicial da alma nutritiva, mediada pela substância quente (em
animais, o coração, a que a alma nutritiva está incorporada)
·
vida - a manutenção desta
participação
·
juventude - o período de
crescimento do órgão primário de refrigeração (os pulmões)
·
o auge da vida - o tempo entre o
crescimento e a decadência do órgão primário de refrigeração
·
velhice - decadência do órgão
primário de refrigeração
·
morte violenta ou dissolução - a
extinção ou exaustão do calor vital
·
morte natural - a exaustão do
calor devido à passagem do tempo, e ocorrendo ao fim da vida
·
morte na velhice - a exaustão
devido à inabilidade na parte do órgão, por velhice, de produzir refrigeração
Historia Animalium é uma
obra sobre história
natural (zoologia) escrita por Aristóteles. A obra consiste de
alargadas descrições de variadas espécies de peixes, mariscos
e outros animais e sua anatomia.
Nesta
obra Aristóteles estabelece que "nos animais jovens, o sangue parece ralo e abundante,
no velho, denso, escuro e raro, nos animais de idade intermediária, suas
qualidades são intermediárias"(mesos). [1][2]
De Partibus Animalium é
um texto escrito por Aristóteles
por volta de 350 a.C..
A
obra é composta por quatro livros que apresenta uma classificação dos animais e que critica as posições
platónicas da concepção da natureza e
dos seres vivos.
Este
tratado teve uma profunda influência nas teorias naturais até aos trabalhos de
naturalistas do século XVIII, principalmente no mundo árabe-muçulmano.
A
obra foi lida e criticada por Avicena e
influenciou Al-Jahiz na redação do seu
próprio Livro dos Animais.
Do movimento dos animais (em latim, De
Motu Animalium) é um texto de Aristóteles sobre princípios
gerais do movimento em animais[1].
"Alhures (Da Marcha dos Animais) investigamos em detalhes os movimento dos animais de acordo com seus
vários tipos, as diferenças entre eles, e as razãos de suas características
particulares (pois alguns voam, alguns nadam, alguns caminham, outros se movem
de várias outras formas); resta uma investigação da base comum a toda forma de
movimento animal que seja."("ELSEWHERE we have investigated in
detail the movement of animals after their various kinds, the differences
between them, and the reasons for their particular characters (for some animals
fly, some swim, some walk, others move in various other ways); there remains an
investigation of the common ground of any sort of animal movement whatsoever)
in De Motu
Animalium, traduzido para o inglês por A. S.
L. Farquharson, disponível online, consultado em 10/02/2013
Da marcha dos animais (em
latim, De incessu animalium; em grego clássico, Περι πορειας ζωιων)
é um texto de Aristóteles
sobre os detalhes da marcha e movimento em várias espécies de animais.
A
abordagem de Aristóteles ao assunto é perguntar "porque alguns animais não
têm pés; outros são bípedes; outros, quadrúpedes; outros têm muitos pés; e
porque todos têm um número par de pés, se é que eles têm pés; porque, enfim,
todos os pontos em que o avanço depende são pares em número".
É
um bom exemplo de como ele trouxe pressuposições teleológicas aos estudos empíricos.
A
Ética a
Nicômaco (português
brasileiro) ou Ética a Nicômaco (português
europeu) (em grego:
Ἠθικὰ Νικομάχεια transl. Ēthicà
Nicomáche latim:
Ethica Nicomachea) é a principal obra de Aristóteles sobre Ética. Nela se expõe sua
concepção teleológica e eudaimonista de racionalidade prática, sua
concepção da virtude como mediania e suas
considerações acerca do papel do hábito e da prudência.
Em
Aristóteles, toda racionalidade prática é teleológica, quer dizer, orientada
para um fim (ou um bem, como está no texto). À Ética cabe
determinar a finalidade suprema (o summum bonum), que preside e
justifica todas as demais, e qual a maneira de alcançá-la. Essa finalidade
suprema é a felicidade (eudaimonia),
que não consiste nem nos prazeres, nem nas riquezas, nem nas honras, mas numa
vida virtuosa [1]. A virtude, por sua
vez, se encontra no justo meio entre os extremos, e será encontrada por
aquele dotado de prudência (phronesis) e educado pelo hábito
no seu exercício.
Vale
destacar aqui que a ideia de virtude, na Grécia Antiga, não é idêntica ao
conceito atual, muito influenciado pelo cristianismo. Virtude tinha o
sentido da excelência de cada ação, ou seja, de fazer bem feito, na justa
medida, cada pequeno ato (além disso os valores da altura e local em que ele
escreveu tal obra eram bem diferentes dos leitores atuais; a palavra bem ou mal
por exemplo apresenta significados totalmente opostos).
Estrutura da Obra
Livro I. O
que é o Bem para o homem
I.A. Definindo o objeto da investigação
I.A.1. Todas as atividades humanas visam a alguma
forma de bem. Alguns bens são subordinados a outros.
I.A.2. A política é a ciência do Bem para o homem.
I.B. A natureza da ciência
I.B.3. Não se pode esperar obter mais precisão no
estudo de um assunto do que a natureza mesma do assunto permite. Um estudante
precisa amadurecer através de vários anos.
I.C. O que é o Bem para o homem?
I.C.4. Geralmente se considera que o bem para o homem
é a felicidade, mas há vários pontos de vista acerca do que seja a felicidade
para o homem. Se faz necessário, no começo, que se tenha uma forte convicção
sobre os fatos (disposições) que são produzidos por uma boa criação e educação.
I.C.5. Discussão dos pontos de vista comuns de que a
bem seja o prazer, a honra, a riqueza. Um quarto tipo de vida, aquela de
contemplação, é deixada para discussão posterior.
I.C.6. Discussão da visão filosófica de que há uma
ideia de bem.
I.C.7. O Bem precisa ser algo de final e
auto-suficiente. Alcança-se uma definição de felicidade considerando a função
característica do homem.
I.C.8. Essa definição confirma-se ao contrapô-la às
crenças correntes sobre felicidade.
I.C.9. De que modo se obtém a felicidade? Ela é
aprendida? Adquirida por hábito? Mandada por Deus? Decorrência do acaso?
I.C.10. Sobre se algum homem poderia ser chamado
feliz enquanto está vivo.
I.C.11. Haveria como a fortuna dos vivos afetar a
felicidade dos mortos.
I.C.12. A virtude é digna de louvor e elogio, mas a
felicidade está para além de qualquer louvor ou glorificação.
I.D. Tipos de virtude
I.D.13. A divisão das faculdades e a decorrente divisão da
virtude em moral e intelectual.
Livro II. A virtude Moral – Considerações gerais –
II.A. Virtude moral; como se produz, de que materiais
é constituída e de que maneira é exibida.
II.A.1. A virtude moral, tal como as artes, é
adquirida através da repetição de seus atos correspondentes.
II.A.2. Não se pode prescrever com exatidão esses
atos. Porém deve-se evitar excesso e insuficiência.
II.A.3. Sentir prazer como decorrência de haver
realizado atos virtuosos é um sinal de que a disposição virtuosa foi alcançada:
múltiplas considerações mostram a conexão essencial da virtude com o prazer e a
dor.
II.A.4. As ações que geram a virtude moral não são
boas no mesmo sentido que aquelas que o bem dela decorrente, esta deverá
condizer com certas condição que não são necessárias para o caso de uma arte.
II.B. Definição de Virtude moral
II.B.5.Seu gênero: Não é uma paixão ou faculdade, mas
um estado de caráter.
II.B.6. Sua diferença específica: consiste numa
disposição de escolher o meio-termo.
II.B.7. Uma ilustração dessas proposições fazendo
referência a virtudes particulares.
II.C. As características dos estados extremos e do
meio-termo: corolários práticos.
II.C.8. Os extremos são opostos uns aos outros e ao
meio termo.
II.C.9. O meio-termo é difícil de atingir, e é
apreendido pela percepção, e não pelo raciocínio.
Livro III.
D. O aspecto intrínseco da Virtude moral: condições
para a responsabilidade pela ação.
III.D.1. O aplauso e a censura vinculados a ações
voluntárias. Ações com conhecimento dasà sem estar sob compulsão, e àfeitas circunstâncias.
poràIII.D.2. A virtude moral implica que a ação seja
realizada escolha própria; o objeto da
escolha sendo decorrente de uma deliberação prévia.
III.D.3. A natureza da deliberação e os seus objetos:
escolha é o desejo deliberado por coisas que estão ao nosso alcance.
III.D.4. O objeto de um desejo racional é um
determinado fim: um bem, ou um bem aparente.
III.D.5. Nós somos responsáveis tanto pelas boas,
quanto más ações.
ß As virtudes e os vícios à
III.A.6. A coragem está relacionada com as emoções de
medo e confiança – em sentido bastante estrito – com o medo de morrer em
combate.
III.A.7. O motivo para a coragem é o senso de honra:
característica dos vícios opostos: a covardice e a precipitação temerária.
III.A.8. Cinco modos impróprios de designar coragem.
III.A.9. Relação da coragem com prazer e dor.
III.B. Temperança
III.B.10. A temperança se limita a certos prazeres
decorrentes do tato, do tocar e do toque.
III.B.11.Características da temperança e seus
opostos: a insensibilidade e o desregramento(sensualidade-sensualismo).
III.B.12. O desregramento sensual é mais voluntário
do que a covardice. O homem desregrado é comparável a uma criança mimada.
Livro IV. C. Virtudes relacionadas com o dinheiro.
IV.C.1. Liberalidade, prodigalidade e mesquinharia
(baixeza, mediocridade, tacanhez de espírito)
IV.C.2. Magnificência, vulgaridade e avareza.
IV.D. Virtudes relacionadas com a honra
IV.D.3. Orgulho, Vaidade e Humildade.
IV.D.4. Ambição, carência de ambição e o meio-termo
delas.
IV.E. Virtudes relacionadas com a raiva
IV.E.5. Brandura, irascibilidade e a
inireascibilidade.
IV.F. Virtudes relacionadas a Interação Social
IV.F.6. Amistoso, contencioso e obsequioso
(puxa-saco)
IV.F.7. Franqueza e sinceridade; Presunção
ostentadora; autodepreciação.
IV.F.8. sagacidade – perspicácia de tato; bufonaria;
rudez (obtuso)
IV.G. A quase-virtude
IV.G.9. A vergonha, o recato e a sem-vergonhice.
Livro V.
Teoria da justiça
Livro VI.
A virtude intelectual
VI.A. Introdução
VI.A.1. Razões para estudar a virtude intelectual: o
intelecto é dividido em contemplativo e calculativo.
VI.A.2. O objeto do intelecto contemplativo é a
verdade. O objeto do intelecto calculativo é a verdade correspondente ao desejo
correto.
VI.B. As virtudes intelectuais capitais
VI.B.3. Ciência – conhecimento demonstrativo do
necessário e do eterno.
VI.B.4. Arte – conhecimento de como fazer coisas.
VI.B.5. Sabedoria prática (Phronesis) – Conhecimento
sobre como assegurar os fins da vida humana
VI.B.6. Razão intuitiva – Conhecimento dos princípios
a partir dos quais a ciência se desenvolve.
VI.B.7. Sabedoria filosófica – União de razão
intuitiva e ciência.
VI.B.8. Relações entre sabedoria prática e ciência
política.
VI.C. Virtudes intelectuais menores relacionadas a
conduta.
VI.C.9. A bondade na deliberação, como está
relacionada ao conhecimento prático.
VI.C.10. Compreensão/entendimento – a qualidade
crítica em confronto com a qualidade imperativa da sabedoria prática.
VI.C.11. Julgamento – A discriminação correta do
equitativo:o lugar da intuição na esfera moral.
VI.D. Relação entre sabedoria prática e sabedoria
filosófica.
VI.D.12. Para que servem a sabedoria filosófica e a
sabedoria prática? A sabedoria filosófica é a causa formal da felicidade. A
sabedoria prática é o que garante a adoção dos meios apropriados para atingir
aos fins desejados pela virtude moral.
VI.D.13. Relação entre a sabedoria prática e a
virtude natural, virtude moral e as normas do que é certo fazer.
Livro VII.
VII.A - Continência e incontinência
VII.A.1. Seis variedades de caráter: método de
tratamento: opiniões correntes.
VII.A.2. Contradições envolvendo essas opiniões.
VII.A.3. Solução para o problema, em que sentido o
homem incontinente age contra o conhecimento.
VII.A.4. Solução para o problema: qual é a esfera de
incontinência: Distinção entre o seu sentido lato e o seu sentido estrito.
VII.A.5. A incontinência em seu sentido lato incluí
formas brutais e mórbidas.
VII.A.6. A incontinência no que diz respeito à
irascibilidade é menos prejudicial do que a incontinência propriamente dita.
VII.A.7. Moleza e rigidez – Duas formas de
incontinência: fraqueza e impetuosidade.
VII.A.8. Porque o desregramento sensual é pior do que
a incontinência.
VII.A.9. Relação da continência com a obstinação,
incontinência, ‘insensibilidade e temperança.
VII.A.10. A sabedoria prática não é compatível com a
incontinência; todavia a esperteza é compatível com a incontinência.
VII.B. Prazer
VII.B.11. Três pontos de vista hostis sobre o prazer,
e os argumentos em que se baseiam.
VII.B.12. Discussão do ponto de vista de que o prazer
não é um bem.
VII.B.13. Discussão do ponto de vista de que o prazer
não é o bem último.
VII.B.14. Discussão do ponto de vista de que a maior
parte dos prazeres é ruim, e a tendência de identificar os prazeres corporais e
sensuais com o prazer em geral.
Livro VIII. Amizade.
VIII.A. Tipos de amizade.
VIII.A.1. A Amizade é ao mesmo tempo necessária e
nobre: isto suscita muitas questões.
VIII.A.2. Os três objetos do amor: implicações da
amizade.
VIII.A.3. Os três tipos correspondentes de amizade. A
superioridade da amizade que tem como motivo e fundamento o bem.
VIII.A.4. Contraste entre o melhor tipo e os tipos
inferiores.
VIII.A.5.O estado da amizade é distinto da atividade
decorrente da amizade e do sentimento de amistosidade.
VIII.A.6. Relações diversas entre os três tipos de
amizade.
VIII.B. Reciprocidade da Amizade
VIII.B.7. Em amizades desiguais deve-se procurar
manter uma proporção.
VIII.B.8. Amar ativamente é mais da essência do amor,
do que ser amado (passividade)
VIII.C. A relação entre a reciprocidade própria da
amizade e aquele envolvimento em outras formas de comunidade.
VIII.C.9. Paralelismos entre Amizade e Justiça: O
Estado abarca todas as comunidades menores.
VIII.C.10. Classificação das constituições: analogia
com as relações familiares.
VIII.C.11. Correspondências entre formas de amizade e
de justiça.
VIII.C.12. AS diversas formas de amizade nas
relações.
VIII.D. Casuística da Amizade
VIII.D.13. Princípios do intercâmbio de serviços.
na amizade
entre desiguais.à
na amizade entre iguais. àVIII.D.14.
Livro IX.
IX.D. (continuação)
Nas amizades onde os motivos de cada um das duas
partes são diferentes.àIX.D.1.
IX.D.2. Conflito de obrigações.
IX.D.3. Ocasiões para a quebra e término de uma
amizade.
IX.E. natureza intrínseca da amizade
IX.E.4. Amizade é baseada em amor próprio.
IX.E.5. Relação entre amizade e boa-vontade.
IX.E.6.Relação entre amizade e unanimidade.
IX.E.7. O prazer da beneficência.
IX.E.8. A natureza do verdadeiro amor-próprio.
IX.F. A necessidade por Amizade.
IX.F.9. Por que um homem feliz precisa de amigos?
IX.F.10. O limite para o número de amigos.
IX.F.11. São os amigos mais necessários em momentos
de boa ou má fortuna?
IX.F.12. A essência da amizade é a vida em comum.
Livro X. A - Prazer ; B – Felicidade
X.A. Prazer
X.A.1. Duas visões opostas sobre o prazer.
X.A.2. Discussão do ponto de vista de que o prazer
seja o Bem.
X.A.3. Discussão do ponto de vista de que o prazer
seja inteiramente mal.
X.A.4. Definição do que é prazer.
X.A.5. Os prazeres diferem de acordo com as
atividades que acompanham e completam: critério para o valor dos prazeres.
X.B. Felicidade
X.B.6. A felicidade é uma boa atividade, e não
divertimento.
X.B.7. A felicidade é, num sentido mais elevado, a
vida contemplativa.
X.B.8. Considerações adicionais sobre a superioridade
da vida contemplativa.
X.B.9. Legislação é necessária se um fim deve ser
atingido. Transição para a Política.
Conceito de justiça
O
desenvolvimento do tema da justiça na teoria de Aristóteles, discípulo de
Platão, tem sede no campo ético, ou seja, no campo de um saber que vem definido
em sua teoria como saber prático. É da reunião das opiniões dos sábios, dentro
de uma visão de todo o problema que surgiu uma concepção propriamente
aristotélica.[2]
O
mestre do Liceu tratou também a justiça entendendo-a como virtude, assemelhada
a todas as demais tratadas no curso. A justiça, assim definida como virtude,
torna-se o foco das atenções de um ramo do conhecimento humano que se dedica ao
estudo próprio do comportamento humano; à ciência prática, intitulada ética,
cumpre investigar e definir o que é o justo e o injusto, o que é ser temperante
e o que é ser corajoso, o que é ser jactante, etc.
Somente
a educação ética (ética significa hábito em grego), ou seja, a criação do
hábito do comportamento ético, o que se faz com a prática à conduta diuturna do
que é deliberado pela reta razão à esfera das ações humanas, pode construir um
comportamento virtuoso, ou seja, um comportamento justo.
A
justiça, em meio as demais virtudes, que se opõem a dois extremos,
caracteriza-se por uma peculiaridade: trata-se de uma virtude à qual não se
opõe dois vícios diferentes, mas um único vício, que é a injustiça. Dessa
forma, o que é injusto ocupa dois polos diversos, ou seja, é ora injustiça por
excesso, ora é injustiça por defeito. Desse modo, como o homem sem lei é
injusto e o cumpridor da lei é justo, evidentemente todos os atos conforme à
lei são atos justos em certo sentido, pois os atos prescritos pela arte do
legislador são conforme a lei, e dizemos que cada um dele é justo.
Aristóteles
desenvolveu uma visão de justiça muito eficiente sobre a qual vários países do
mundo elaboraram medidas de punições severas para pessoas que cometerem crimes
graves na sociedade (tanto antiga quanto atual), baseadas nos métodos de
justiça criados por ele.
Os
métodos de justiça[3] são:
- Justiça Geral: É a observância da lei, o respeito à legislação ou as normas convencionais instituídas pela polis. Tem como objetivo o bem comum, a felicidade individual e coletiva. A Justiça Geral é também chamada de Justiça Legal. Ressalta-se a compreensão dos gregos que consideravam o justo legal não somente sob a forma do ordenamento jurídico positivo, mas principalmente as leis não escritas, universais e não derrogáveis do direito natural.
- Justiça Particular: Tem por objetivo realizar a igualdade entre o sujeito que age e o sujeito que sofre a ação. Divide-se em Justiça Distributiva e Justiça Correlativa.
- Justiça Distributiva: Consiste na distribuição ou repartição de bens e honrarias segundo os méritos de cada um.
- Justiça Correlativa: Visa à correlação das transações entre os indivíduos, que podem ocorrer de modos voluntários, a exemplo dos acordos e contratos, ou de modo involuntário, como os delitos em geral. Nesta forma de justiça surge a necessidade de intervenção de uma terceira pessoa, que deve decidir sobre as relações mútuas e o eventual descumprimento de acordos ou de cláusulas contratuais. O juiz, segundo Aristóteles, passa a personificar a noção do justo. A justiça correlativa é também denominada equitadora ou sintagmática. Subdivide-se em:
- Justiça Comutativa: Preside os contratos em geral: compra e venda, locação, empréstimo, etc. É essencialmente preventiva, já que a justiça prévia iguala as prestações recíprocas antes mesmo de uma eventual transação.
- Justiça Reparativa: Visa, reprimir a injustiça, a reparar ou indenizar o dono, estabelecendo, se for o caso, punições.
Princípio da Equidade
A
palavra equidade, tem origem no latim “aequitas” e quer dizer "Característica
de algo ou alguém que revela senso de justiça, imparcialidade, isenção e
neutralidade: duvidou da equidade das eleições.Correção no modo de agir ou de
opinar; lisura; honestidade; igualdade: tratou-a com equidade.Disposição para
reconhecer a imparcialidade do direito de cada indivíduo. [4]
Nesse
sentido, Aristóteles em sua obra Ética a Nicomaco, Livro V, aborda a questão da
equidade enquanto princípio norteador indispensável para a efetivação da
justiça. Para o referido filósofo, “o equitativo é justo, porém não o
legalmente justo, e sim uma correção da justiça legal. A razão disto é que toda
lei é universal, mas a respeito de certas coisas não é possível fazer uma
afirmação universal que seja correta”. [5]
Diante
de tal raciocínio, é possível constatar que para Aristóteles, a lei não é
totalmente plena, no sentido de abranger todas as situações e problemas
jurídicos aos quais a sociedade possa estar sujeita, ou seja, existe uma
determinada lei, entretanto, podem existir situações que não foram pensadas
pelo legislador e consequentemente não estão abrangidas por esta lei, mas que
também necessitam de amparo legal. Desse modo, não seria justo que tal situação
ou caso fosse ignorado por uma “falha” do legislador, sendo necessário então a
aplicação do princípio da equidade para permitir que aquele caso seja conhecido
e apreciado quanto ao seu mérito de maneira justa, levando-se em consideração
as peculiaridades do caso concreto.
Aristóteles
menciona ainda que “essa é a natureza do equitativo: uma correção da lei quando
ela é deficiente em razão da sua universalidade”[5], sendo que é justamente
essa correção que torna justa a resolução do caso concreto.
Desse
modo é possível depreender por meio de um raciocínio lógico que toda lei é
justa, mas nem tudo que é justo é abarcado pela lei, sendo necessário então a
aplicação do princípio da equidade para que aquela situação que não foi
abrangida pela lei tenha seu mérito analisado de maneira justa. E é justamente
por ter esse caráter corretivo e diga-se também complementar, que para
Aristóteles, o equitativo é uma espécie superior de justiça: por se amoldar as
mais diversas situações existentes no mundo fático, afinal, é claro e notório
que a sociedade tem uma mutação muito mais acelerada do que a legislação posta
para regulá-la, até mesmo porque são as próprias mudanças da sociedade que vão
embasar alterações na legislação.
Para
ilustrar tal questão pode ser usado como exemplo a questão do reconhecimento da
união estável entre casais homo-afetivos antes da regulamentação de tal
instituto pela lei: mesmo durante o período em que tal situação não era ainda
regulamentada pela lei, a mesma mostrava-se cada vez mais recorrente e presente
na sociedade, entretanto, não havia uma legislação que tratasse de tal assunto
especificamente, havia apenas o direito positivado quanto ao reconhecimento da
união estável para casais formados por um homem e uma mulher. Logo, em que pese
tais casos existissem, os mesmos não eram abarcados pela legislação à época,
mas não considerava-se justo que os casais homo-afetivos ficassem sem amparo
legal e deixassem de ter seus pleitos apreciados pelo Judiciário em razão de
tal “omissão' do legislador. Dessa forma, quando da apreciação do mérito de tal
questão pelo Judiciário, era aplicado o princípio da equidade, reconhecendo
aquela união enquanto união estável, ainda que sem previsão legal específica,
mas tomando como base uma lei genérica. Tal situação demonstra claramente a
aplicação da equidade ao caso: Existia uma lei universal, que foi “omissa”
quanto a possibilidade da ocorrência de uniões homo-afetivas, mas que não
poderia obstar tais casais de terem seu direito reconhecido, até então por meio
da aplicação da equidade e só posteriormente por meio de alteração legislativa
específica.
Ultrapassadas
todas essas conceituações, resta claramente evidenciada a imensurável
importância e necessidade de tal princípio na aplicação do direito enquanto
justo para uma melhor consideração dos fenômenos jurídicos. Conforme já
mencionado, a sociedade está em constante mutação, e a legislação não acompanha
tais mudanças no mesmo ritmo. Sendo assim, a aplicação do princípio da equidade
é fundamental para tornar a apreciação dos fenômenos jurídicos justa, até que a
“falha” ou “omissão” do legislador da lei universal e genérica não seja
corrigida positivadamente.
Política (em grego: Πολιτικά ; em latim: Politica) é um texto do filósofo grego antigo Aristóteles. É composto por oito
livros (I: 1252a - 1260b, II: 1261a - 1274b, III: 1275a - 1288b, IV: 1289a -
1301b, V: 1301b - 1316b, VI: 1317a - 1323a, VII: 1323b - 1337a, VIII: 1337b -
1342b) e não existem dúvidas acerca da autenticidade da obra. Acredita-se que
as reflexões aristotélicas sobre a política originam-se da época em que ele era
preceptor de Alexandre.
Ao mesmo tempo, Aristóteles compôs para Alexandre duas obras de caráter
político que se perderam: Os colonos e Sobre a monarquia.
Na
filosofia
aristotélica a Política é a ciência que tem por objeto a felicidade humana e divide-se em ética (que se preocupa com a felicidade individual do homem na pólis) e na política propriamente dita (que
se preocupa com a felicidade coletiva da pólis). O objetivo de
Aristóteles com sua Política é justamente investigar as formas de governo e as instituições capazes
de assegurar uma vida
feliz ao cidadão. Por
isso mesmo, a política situa-se no âmbito das ciências práticas, ou seja, as
ciências que buscam o conhecimento
como meio para ação.
Segundo
Aristóteles:
"Vemos que toda cidade é uma espécie de comunidade,
e toda ela se forma com vistas a algum bem (o bem-comum) pois todas as
ações de todos os homens são praticadas com vistas ao que lhes parece um bem;
se todas as comunidades visam a isso, é evidente que a mais importante de todas
elas e que inclui todas as outras tem mais que todas este objetivo e visa ao
mais importante de todos os bens; ela se chama cidade e é a comunidade
política" (Pol., 1252a).
Os
livros I, II, e III são introdutórios e versam sobre temas
como teoria do Estado e classificação das várias
espécies de constituição; os livros IV, V e VI tratam da
prática política, da natureza das várias constituições e dos princípios que as
regulam; os livros VII e VIII especulam sobre a política ideal, analisando a estrutura da melhor cidade.
Natureza de escravo e escravidão
Uma
das distinções feitas por Aristóteles nesta obra é entre Natureza de escravo
e escravidão. [1] Pela Primeira ele se
refere aos homens que não pertencem a si-próprios, não tem propósitos e
finalidades próprios, de modo que buscam servir aos propósitos de outro. O
sujeito em questão, portanto, encontra propósito servindo como instrumento às
finalidades alheias. [2]
Já
escravidão é a apropriação dos homens vencidos na guerra, por meio de
força e violência, para submeter os vencidos ao seus desejos e caprichos de
modo coercitivo. Havia na Grécia da época de Aristóteles uma lei, segundo a
qual todo homem vencido na guerra tornava-se propriedade do vencedor. [3]
A
Constituição dos Atenienses (em grego antigo, Ἀθηναίων
πολιτεία, translit. Athēnaion
politeia) é o nome de uma obra antiga, atribuída a Aristóteles e seus discípulos,
que descreve o regime político de Atenas.
Escrita
provavelmente entre 332 a.C. e
322 a.C., só se tornou mais
conhecida, ainda que em fragmentos, no final do século XIX, quando foi
encontrada, ainda em sua forma original, no Egito. O livro registra as várias formas e alterações
constitucionais pelas quais passou a cidade de Atenas, por obra dos seus
grandes legisladores, tais como Drácon, Sólon, Pisístrato, Clístenes e Péricles.
A
obra também pode ser lida como uma história
política da cidade.
Retórica (em grego Τέχνη
ρητορική, em latim
Ars Rhetorica), é um texto do filósofo grego Aristóteles de Estagira. É
composto por três livros (I: 1354a - 1377b, II: 1377b - 1403a, III: 1403a -
1420a) e não existem dúvidas acerca da autenticidade da obra.
Ao
que tudo indica, o objetivo de Aristóteles com sua Retórica é dar um
tratamento eminentemente filosófico ao tema em oposição ao tratamento
descuidado que os retores e sofistas daquele tempo davam ao
tema. De modo mais específico, muitos acreditam que a reflexão aristotélica
sobre o tema foi uma resposta à concepção retórica de Isócrates
de Atenas. Ao contrário de Platão, que no diálogo Górgias condena a retórica e no diálogo Fedro
subordina a retórica à filosofia, a investigação aristotélica acerca da
retórica — mesmo que eminentemente filosófica — procura conferir autonomia para
a técnica retórica, desvinculando-a da vigilância da filosofia (coisa que
Platão discordava por considerar a retórica eticamente perigosa).
Segundo
o filósofo:
"A retórica é a outra face da dialética; pois ambas se ocupam de
questões mais ou menos ligadas ao conhecimento comum e não correspondem a
nenhuma ciência em
particular. De facto, todas as pessoas de alguma maneira
participam de uma e de outra, pois todas elas tentam em certa medida questionar
e sustentar um argumento, defender-se ou acusar" (Rhet., I, 1354a).
No
livro I, Aristóteles analisa e fundamenta os três gêneros retóricos: o
deliberativo (que procura persuadir ou dissuadir), o judiciário (que acusa ou
defende) e o epidítico (que elogia ou censura). Além disso, argumentos em favor
da utilidade da retórica são apresentados bem como uma análise da natureza da
prova retórica que é o entimema, um silogismo derivado;
No
livro II, o plano emocional é analisado em sua relação com a recepção do
discurso retórico. Uma série de elementos, como a ira, amizade, confiança,
vergonha e seus contrários são analisados, bem como o caráter dos homens (dos
jovens, dos ricos, etc.). Neste livro, também volta-se a analisar as formas de
argumentação, são apresentados uma série de tópicos argumentativos, o uso de
máximas na argumentação e o uso dos entimemas;
No
livro III, o estilo e a composição do discurso retórico são analisados.
Além de elementos como clareza, correção gramatical e ritmo, o uso da metáfora
e as partes que compõem um discurso também estão presentes neste livro.
Com
esta obra, Aristóteles lança as bases da retórica ocidental. Teoricamente, a
evolução da retórica ao longo dos séculos representou muito mais um
aperfeiçoamento da reflexão aristotélica sobre o tema do que construções
verdadeiramente originais.
A Poética (em grego antigo: Περὶ ποιητικῆς;
em latim: poiétikés),
provavelmente registrada entre os anos 335 a.C. e 323 a.C. (Eudoro de Souza, 1993, pg.8), é
um conjunto de anotações das aulas de Aristóteles sobre o tema da poesia e da arte em sua época, pertencentes aos seus escritos acroamáticos
(para serem transmitidos oralmente aos seus alunos) ou esotéricos
(textos para iniciados).
Estes
cadernos de anotações eram destinados às aulas do Liceu e serviam de guia para o mestre e investigador
Aristóteles, anotações esquemáticas destinadas a serem desenvolvidas em suas
aulas e não para serem conhecidas através da leitura. Praticamente tudo que se
conservou de Aristóteles faz parte das obras acroamáticas. É o primeiro escrito
conhecido que procura especificamente analisar determinadas formas da arte e da
literatura, também um registro limitado de como era a arte grega em seu tempo.
A Poética, "não é apenas a primeira teoria do Teatro ocidental; trata-se
de um livro que influenciou essa arte ao longo de sua história e que ainda ecoa"
[1].
O
historiador Marvin Carlson afirma que "embora a Poética de
Aristóteles seja reconhecida por sua importância crítica em toda cultura
ocidental, tudo, em cada detalhe deste trabalho levanta opiniões divergentes
(Carlson 1993, 16)". Constitui-se como um pensamento ou "teoria sobre
a Tragédia", como o define Eudoro de Souza (1993, pg.8).
Significados de Poética
Valentín
García Yebra comenta a tradução de ποιητική, termo central na obra que
ele próprio traduz como poética: «As opiniões se dividem sobre a tradução de
ποιητική: "poesía" ou "(arte) poética"»,
qual seria o adequado?
Yebra
destaca a opinião do tradutor inglês G. F. Else que o traduz como «Art of
poetic composition» ("arte da composição poética"). A opinião de Else
é que não poderia ser apenas "arte da poesia" pois «pela reflexão de
Aristóteles, a poiétiké, "arte poética", é concebida
ativamente; poiésis, o processo real de composição... é a ativação, a
encenação da obra da poiétiké. (...) Temos que recordar, segue Else, que
as palavras poiétiké e poiésis, o mesmo que poiétés,
"poeta", se formam diretamente sobre poiein,
"fazer". «Ao grego antigo, seu idioma sempre o recordava que o poeta
é um fazedor..».
García
Yebra encerra esta nota justificando sua escolha por Poética em sua
tradução: «Não obstante creio que ποιητική deve ser traduzido por
«poética», que, substantivado, tem basicamente o sentido ativo: «arte da
composição poética», e não exclui o outro, de certo modo passivo, «estudo dos
resultados de tal arte». (García Yebra 1992, pg. 244).
Principais conceitos abordados
- Mimesis ou "imitação", "representação".
- Catharsis ou "purgação", "purificação", "esclarecimento".
- Peripeteia ou "reversão".
- Anagnorisis ou "reconhecimento", "identificação".
- Hamartia ou "erro de cálculo" (entendida no Romantismo como "falha trágica").
- Mythos ou "roteiro", "argumento".
- Ethos ou "caráter".
- Dianoia ou "pensamento", "tema".
- Lexis ou "retórica", "fala".
- Melos ou "melodia", "música".
- Opsis ou "espetáculo".
Momento histórico
No
ano de 343 a.C., chamado por Filipe II, rei da Macedônia,
Aristóteles torna-se preceptor de seu filho Alexandre,
futuro sucessor do reino, função que exerceu até 336 a.C., quando Alexandre sobe
ao trono.
As
anotações da Poética são produzidas na fase final da vida de Aristóteles, quando este muda-se
para Atenas, aos quarenta e nove anos.
Lá funda sua escola, o Liceu, ao redor
de 334 a.C., localizada no templo de
Apolo Liceu (Likeios,
referência ao local do templo). Entretanto, em 323 a.C., com a morte de Alexandre,
o Grande, Aristóteles tem que fugir de Atenas, perseguido por suas
ligações com o monarca macedônio, vindo a falecer no ano seguinte.
Registros antigos
Um
dos mais antigos códices (obras
manuscritas em formato de livro, ao
contrários dos papiros e pergaminhos, que eram feitos em
formato de rolos) encontrados contendo o texto escrito da Poética é o Codex
Parisinus 1141, escrito ao final do século X ou em princípios do século XI. A obra divide-se em
duas partes: a primeira apresenta o conceito de poesia como imitação de ações. A
segunda, a mais extensa, estuda a tragédia, uma das espécies ou
gêneros da poesia dramática, e faz comparação com a poesia lírica e a narrativa epopeia.
Desfiguração da Poética
A
Poética, como obra fundamental do pensamento estético, com seus mais de
dois mil anos de existência, sofre desde o Renascimento italiano uma série
de distorções, acompanhada pelas disputas onde se insere em cada tempo
histórico.
Uma
delas quando a pintura e a escultura passam a ser
consideradas como belas artes,
passando a ter um status social equivalente ao das artes poéticas. Assim tudo o
que Aristóteles levantava como discussão para as artes literárias de seu tempo,
especificamente à poesia e à tragédia, começou a ser generalizado e aplicado à
reflexão das demais artes, inclusive as artes plásticas, que não estavam no
escopo original do filósofo, gerando uma série de distorções.
A
Poética passa a ser tratada como um cânone que determinava estilos que deveriam ser seguidos
ou combatidos por várias correntes estéticas. Os mais conhecidos são os de
inspiração clássica: classicismos e neoclassicismos diversos usaram algumas das
análises do professor grego para determinar leis obrigatórias de composição
para a arte em seu tempo, como as unidades de tempo, ação e lugar.
Por
outro lado, oponentes de algumas destas regras começaram a entender o
pensamento do filósofo grego pela via destes leitores. Os textos teóricos de Bertolt Brecht e a teoria pós
dramática, por exemplo, fundamentam seus principais argumentos estéticos não
nas escritas do autor grego, mas nos cânones levantados através dos séculos por
seus leitores. Assim são as criticas ao naturalismo ou ao figurativismo ou a
obrigatoriedade das unidades (de tempo, de lugar e de ação) na dramaturgia.
A superioridade da tragédia e do espetáculo
Ao
final da Poética, após longa análise, Aristóteles destaca a
superioridade da tragédia
frente aos outros gêneros, a épica e a poesia lírica [1462ª]. Vejamos
sua afirmação em diferentes traduções:
A
tradução de Eudoro de Souza afirma:
“(183). Mas a tragédia é superior porque contém todos os elementos da
epopeia (chega até a servir-se do metro épico), e demais, o que não é pouco, a
melopeia e o espetáculo cênico, que acrescem a intensidade dos prazeres que lhe
são próprios. Possui, ainda, grande evidência representativa, quer na leitura,
que na cena; (...) (184). Por consequência, se a tragédia é superior por todas
estas vantagens e porque melhor consegue o efeito específico da arte (...) é
claro que supera a epopeia e, melhor que esta, atinge sua finalidade. (Aristóteles, Poética. Trad Eudoro de Souza)”
A
tradução inglesa de S. H. Butcher também destaca: A Tragedia, como a poesia
Épica, produz seu efeito mesmo sem ação; revela seu poder sem ação; pela mera
leitura. Assim em todos os aspectos é superior (…) porque tem os elementos
épicos (...) com a música e os efeitos espetaculares como um importante
acessório, o que produz um dos mais vívidos prazeres. Além do mais, traz uma
impressão vívida tanto na leitura como na representação (...) Assim a Tragédia
é superior a Épica em todos estes aspectos, e, além do mais, preenche sua
função específica melhor como arte (...) atingindo seus fins perfeitamente.
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