Thornton Lockwood

Epictetus, a former slave who lived in Rome during Nero’s reign but was exiled (along with all those who practiced philosophy in Rome) to Greece by Domitian’s decree in 93 CE, espoused an austere ethical philosophy which aimed at happiness (eudaimonia), or tranquility (ataraxia), through the delimitation of valuation to things within one’s control. Although Epictetus never set to writing his beliefs, his disciple Arrian recorded eight books of his sayings (entitled Discourses [ διατριβαί ] of which only four books survive) and edited a compendium entitled the Handbook ( Ἐγχειρίδιον). In his preface to the volume under review, editor Theodore Scaltsas writes that “there is no message that would be of greater value in the face of today’s threats to society than Epictetus’ ‘bear and forbear.'” (1) Although Epictetus’ “forbearance” is not exactly the philosophy of hope much in vogue in contemporary politics, there is no doubt that Epictetus offers a perennial source of strength and self-reliance.

Professor Garver’s “Living Well and Living Together” sheds light on one of the more confusing sections in Aristotle’s Politics, namely the discussion of the best way of life for individuals and city in Politics VII.1-3. At a distance, the conclusion of Aristotle’s remarks seem relatively clear: He endorses the claim that the most choice-worthy life and happiness of a city and an individual are the same. Further, the implications of such a claim for Aristotle’s political philosophy also seem clear: Aristotle’s view of an “internally active” city amounts to a thorough critique of expansionist imperialism. But how these two surface level views—the best way of life for a city and the critique of imperialism—fit together is less than perspicuous. Garver’s paper goes after this text through the lens of two problems. First, Aristotle apparently argues from the nature of the best way of life or happiness for an individual to the best way of life for a city. But as Aristotle himself points out in his critique of the Republic, such an argument seems in danger of falling into a fallacy of composition. In response to such a perceived fallacy, Garver argues that Aristotle incorporates into his argument a third thing—what is the best life for a citizen or what Garver calls “common life” (p. 5, 6, of Garver’s text)—which mediates between the best life for a separate individual and for the city. As Garver puts it at one point “the best life for the citizen will be our means for discovering those [other] two” (p. 5, Garver’s text). The second problem which Garver raises concerns Aristotle’s apparent inference from energeiai to dunameis. Aristotle’s argument in Politics VII.1-3 begins from the claim that a city and individual have the same kind of happiness—namely, a sort of energeia—and extends to a claim about the structure which serves as the basis of that activity. The problem, according to Garver, is that “the virtues of the state cannot be energeiai of that part of its soul, because states don’t have souls” (p. 6, Garver’s text). The comparison between city and individual works—if it does work—only if “the psychological aspects of the virtue central to the Ethics become politically irrelevant” (p. 7, Garver’s text). Thus, Garver suggests that Aristotle’s comparison of city and individual comes at a cost, viz. that “Aristotle can talk about states being virtuous and happy only because of this psychological superficiality” (p. 9, Garver’s text).

At first glance, one might wonder how a philosopher such as Aristotle, born in 384 BCE, could—as the title of Burger’s book puts it—have a dialogue with Socrates, who died in 399 BCE. Not only did Aristotle never see or hear Socrates in person, but since Socrates—according to his contemporaries—never wrote anything, Aristotle also never encountered the thoughts or opinions of Socrates at first hand. Of course, Aristotle encountered Plato’s depiction of Socrates and it is Plato’s Socrates whom Burger presents as Aristotle’s central “interlocutor” in his Nicomachean Ethics [EN]. Burger presents a rich and challenging reading of the Ethics based on the interpretative principle that “Aristotle constructs the figure of Socrates as a perfect foil against which to develop a different account of virtue of character” (5). Burger’s claim is not an empirical or historical one about whom Aristotle had in mind when writing the Ethics, but rather a philosophical claim about how Aristotle’s Ethics begins in, wrestles with, and modifies a set of theses espoused by the Platonic Socrates.

Aristotle’s claim that poetry is ‘a more philosophic and better thing’ than history (Poet 9.1451b5-6) and his description of the ‘poetic universal’ have been the source of much scholarly discussion. Although many scholars have mined Poetics 9 as a source for Aristotle’s views towards history, in my contribution I caution against doing so. Critics of Aristotle’s remarks have often failed to appreciate the expository principle which governs Poetics 6-12, which begins with a definition of tragedy and then elucidates the terms of that definition by means of a series of juxtapositions. The juxtaposition between poetry and history is one such instance which seeks to elucidate what sort of plot exemplifies a causal unity such that the events of a play unfold with likelihood or necessity. Within that context, Aristotle compares history and poetry in order to elucidate the object of poetic mimesis rather than criticize history as a discipline. Viewing Aristotle as antagonistic towards history fails to appreciate the expository structure of the Poetics and obscures the resource which history provides to the poet, a point which I explore by considering what Aristotle would have thought of an ‘historical’ tragedy like Aeschylus’ Persians.

ABSTRACT: Hall (1996) raises the question of the relationship between Aristotle’s Politics and Poetics by claiming that Aristotle had separated drama from its civic origins; various rejoinders to her challenge can be found in Heath (2009) and Jones (2012). In response to this question, I argue that a central connection between these two works is their shared concern about the effects of performance—both in the case of drama and music—either for performers or their audience. Aristotle’s criticisms of “spectacle” (opsis) in tragedy—a problem taken up most recently in Bouchard (2012), Hanink (2011), Konstan (2013), Sifakis (2013), and Wise (2008)—thus parallel his criticisms of slavishness in musical performance in Politics 8. Thus, the problem of Aristotle’s silence about tragedy in his account of education in Politics 8—a problem taken up by Lord (1982) and more recently Ford (2004)—is explainable on the basis of an explicit and central doctrine from the Poetics, namely that a drama can produce the function of tragedy independent of public performance. On my reading, Aristotle’s Politics and Poetics together retain tragedy as a central “cultural” institution for the liberally educated citizen, a view completely consistent with everything Aristotle defends about tragedy in the Poetics. But Politics 8 displaces tragedy as the pre-eminent form of public education and in its place supplies instrumental music—no doubt much to the consternation of Athenian democrats both historically and their kindred spirits in contemporary drama and classics departments. My paper concludes by articulating and speculating about why music eclipses tragedy as the pre-eminent form of liberal arts education in Aristotle’s best regime.

Natural philosophers make mistakes. Descartes got the laws of inertia wrong, Kant misunderstood the primacy of Euclidian geometry, and almost everyone (except perhaps Aristarchus of Samos) prior to the discovery of the telescope mistakenly thought that the solar system was geocentric. That we find Aristotle mistaken on questions in the life sciences — questions which required advances such as the microscope to even articulate — should come as little surprise. There seems nothing remarkable in the fact that Aristotle mistakenly thought that the constitutive elements of the world were four (earth, wind, air, fire) or that the “organ” of thought was not the brain, but the heart. But the matter is otherwise when scholars examine Aristotle’s remarks about the female in his biological writings. When Aristotle claims that the leader of a hive is the king bee (HA 8 [9].40.623b9-10), that woman have smaller brains than men (PA 2.7.653a28-9), and that the female of the species have fewer teeth than the male (HA 2.3.501b19-21), Aristotle’s critics have suspected something more nefarious than simply poor observation at work. When Aristotle goes on to claim that “the female is, as it were, a mutilated male” (GA 2.3.737a27-8) or that “the female is more dispirited and more despondent than the male, more shameless and more lying, readier to deceive and possessing a better memory for grudges” (HA 8 [9].1.608b10-12), critics have accused Aristotle of trying to pass off misogyny as science.

About Plato's Laws, Aristotle rather uninspiringly wrote, "Most of the Laws consists, in fact, of laws, and [Plato] has said little about the constitution. He wishes to make it more generally attainable [κοινοτέραν] by actual city-states, yet he gradually turns it back towards the Republic". Julia Annas's new volume seeks to counter such dismissive interpretations of Plato's Laws. Rather than view the work as Plato's final written dialogue, written by a crabby, old, pessimistic author, she argues that "the Laws presents us with a remarkably fresh and original approach to social and political issues", one grounded in views about law-abidingness and cosmic law which is novel in the...

Flannery’s volume looks in two directions. On the one hand, as Flannery announces in the book’s introduction, the chapters in the volume were intended to shed light on three specific ‘background’ issues in contemporary ethics and the interpretation of Thomas Aquinas, namely, Aquinas’ notion of ethical theory (as articulated especially in Summa Theologica 1-2.6-21), the ramifications of physical actions on moral evaluation in contemporary ethics (for instance, whether the fact that an abortion consists specifically in the crushing of a fetus’ skull rather than some other form of terminating the fetus has moral relevance), and the understanding of Aquinas’ ‘principle of double effect’ (Summa Theologica 2-2.64.7). On the other hand, the eight chapters (and two appendices) are all devoted to the exegesis of passages in Aristotle’s corpus (primarily the ethical treatises, but with substantial discussions of passages from the Prior Analytics, the Physics, and the Metaphysics insofar as they shed light on passages in the eth-ical corpus). Although the exegetical chapters are motivated by contemporary and Thomistic background issues, the exegesis appears entirely grounded in Aristotle’s (rather than Aristotelian) texts.

What is at stake in determining how to translate the central term of Greek ethical philosophy, that of eudaimonia? The volume Eudaimonia and Well-Being (a collection of ten papers presented at a conference at the University of Cincinnati in 1993) shows that English terms such as happiness, well-being, and flourishing can have significantly different connotations which complicate our understanding of the Greek term. The volume’s contributors work in both ancient Greek ethics and Anglophone contemporary moral philosophy, and although not all the papers bridged the divide between classics and philosophy, on the whole the volume succeeds in elucidating the different meanings “happiness” has for both contemporary and ancient Greek philosophers. The ten papers address five topics, in each case with one author presenting a thesis and another responding as discussant. Most of the papers were revised for publication, and many of the discussants’ papers can stand as independent contributions. Additionally, the editor (who was a participant at the conference) provides a helpful introduction which underscores key themes addressed by many of the papers. The topics examined were whether virtue is sufficient and necessary for happiness (Annas and Sumner); the relationship between fear of death and happiness in Epicurean philosophy (Mitsis and Lesses); the development of the concept of happiness amongst peripatoi in the Hellenistic Lyceum (White and Inwood); the nature of the ethical philosophizing in the sixth book of Polybius’ Histories (Hahm and Jost); and the neo-Aristotelian “capabilities” social philosophy espoused by Martha Nussbaum and Amartya Sen. The volume includes an index locurum, but no comprehensive bibliography. Let me first summarize the debate on the individual topics and then speak to a couple general themes. Given the richness of the papers, space constrains me to restate only the main arguments.

The eight contributions in this volume result from three conferences held at the Université Michel de Montaigne Bordeaux 3 between 2005 and 2007 on nature and household relations, nature and regime-types (politeiai), and nature and education. Three of the chapters examine Aristotle’s notion of nature through consideration of his remarks about the household (specifically, the relationship between family relations and constitutions in cities, the critique of Plato’s dissolution of the family, and the different senses of nature in the Politics), two are focused on the nature of regime-types (specifically kingship and the relationship between politeia and laws), and the final three chapters are concerned with the nature of the best regime described in Politics VII-VIII (specifically the discussion of thumotic peoples in VII.7, the implicit critique of Plato in the account of the material conditions of the best regime, and the place of leisure in Politics VII.14). Pierre Pellegrin, a major translator and scholar on Aristotle’s political and biological writings provides a preface on the tension between universality and cultural specificity in contemporary reading of the Politics.

The second book of Aristotle’s Politics is generally taken to examine politeiai or constitutions that either exist in cities that are said to be well governed or were proposed by theoreticians and are thought to be well organized (II.1, 1260b30–32; II.12, 1274b26–28). Prominent are Aristotle’s examinations of Plato’s Republic and the constitution of Sparta; but Aristotle also devotes chapters to the examination of Plato’s Laws, the proposed constitutions of Phaleas of Chalcedon and Hippodamos of Miletus, and the existing constitutions of Crete, Carthage, and Solon’s Athens. Prominent, also, is scholarly analysis of Aristotle’s remarks about the Republic and Sparta – whether his criticisms of Plato are insightful and fair or whether his remarks about Sparta are historically accurate and hit upon the causes of Sparta’s fourth century decline. Far less prominent, though, is scholarly discussion of Aristotle’s remarks about the other constitutions analyzed in Politics II, how Politics II as a whole is organized, or what light – if any – the book sheds on the Politics as a whole. Such scholarly neglect is unfortunate for at least two major reasons. First, Politics II claims that since the Politics proposes to study which political community is best of all for people who are most able to live in accord with one’s prayers (kat’ euchên), it is necessary to investigate other constitutions reputed to be best (II.1, 1260b27–29). Such a claim suggests a close link between Politics II and Politics VII/VIII but such a link needs elaboration. In what way does Politics II prepare the way for Politics VII/VIII? Secondly, Politics II contains not only criticism of other constitutions, but also substantive political theorizing – most noticeably about the organization of property in the best regime, the problem of political innovation, and the relationship between political theorizing and chance. Aristotle’s critiques of Plato’s Republic, the constitution of Hippodamos, and the constitution of Carthage generate a series of substantive theoretical reflections about the problematic nature of political innovation and political theorizing that rise above mere examinations of the views of his predecessors. Viewing Politics II solely as a repository of criticism loses sight of the theoretical insights Aristotle offers therein, self-conscious insights about the very nature of political theorizing.

Few concepts in Greek philosophical thought are more multi-faceted, analyzed, and disputed than that of “nature” ( φύσις). Although the term is rarely used in epic literature, at least since the 6th century publication of Anaximander’s ἱστορία περὶ φύσεως, the notion of nature has been central to Greek thought. Whether the question was that of providing an account of the kosmos, discerning the relationship between what is merely customary and what is eternal in the norms of a people, or seeking guidance about the standard according to which one should live, Greek thinkers turned to the notion of nature as a cause, as a process, and as a goal or end.

Scholarship on Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics (hereafter “the Ethics”) flourishes in an almost unprecedented fashion. In the last ten years, universities in North America have produced on average over ten doctoral dissertations a year which discuss the practical philosophy which Aristotle espouses in his Nicomachean Ethics, Eudemian Ethics, and Politics. Since the beginning of the millennium there has been three new translations of the entire Ethics into English alone, several more which translate parts of the work into English and other modern languages, and half a dozen collections of new articles discussing Aristotle’s Ethics. Such an outpouring of scholarship has produced an almost unmanageable wave of books, articles, and reviews. Through my topical bibliography, I seek to organize this wealth of scholarly writing so as to make it manageable both to scholars working across the disciplines of philosophy, classics, history, and politics, and to scholars pursing theses on specific topics within the Ethics. The bibliography takes as its model and is much indebted to that compiled by Barnes, Schofield, and Sorabji in their Articles on Aristotle, Volume 2: Ethics and Politics (1977), which was further updated and incorporated into the complete bibliography to all of Aristotle’s writings in Barnes’ Cambridge Companion to Aristotle (1995). Although I have taken guidance from their model, my bibliography differs in one main respect. Whereas Barnes et alia were more selective and annotated their bibliography, I have been more comprehensive in my inclusion of items. I have sought to include all books and journal articles concerned with the Ethics written in English over the last 120 years; additionally, I have sought to include representative and central works of scholarship written on the Ethics in French, German, and Italian during the same period of time. With respect to the date to commence compiling the bibliography: It would require another time and place to document and defend a thesis concerning the beginning of modern scholarship on the Ethics; nonetheless, I have chosen the year 1880 so as to include the flurry of scholarship produced at the end of the nineteenth century, much of which remains insightful and relevant. In the last twenty years of that century were published in English commentaries on the Ethics by Grant (4th ed. 1885), Stewart (1882), and Burnet (1900); during the same time were published Greek textual editions of the Ethics by Ramsauer (1878), Susemihl (1887), and Bywater (1894). No doubt there are major watersheds in Aristotle scholarship throughout the twentieth century—one thinks of the works of Jaeger, Aubenque, Anscombe, Kenny, MacIntyre, and Annas—but the bibliography begins in 1880 so as to include these initial works which shape many of the scholarly discussions on the Ethics up to the present day.

Many of the philosophical treatises which Cicero wrote in the last years of his life quote, discuss, and debate the various doctrines and philosophical systems of the Hellenistic schools of philosophy. Although Cicero sometimes represents himself as only translating or reproducing Greek ideas for a Latin or Roman audience, his actual philosophical practice is much more subtle and varies from treatise to treatise. In some treatises, such as On the Nature of the Gods or Tusculan Disputations, Cicero incorporates the views of the Hellenistic schools into a philosophical presentation oriented by the methodology of the New Academy, which sought to call into question the dogmas of those schools. In other treatises, such as On Duty, Cicero philosophizes in light of Hellenistic views, but he does so critically and discriminately, arriving at a novel philosophical position which is responsive to the intellectual predicaments occasioned by the collapse of the Roman Republic.

Plato’s Lysis has generated a range of scholarly responses, both with respect to its philosophical content and whether its aporetic conclusion— that what is philon is “neither those who are loved nor those who love, nor those who are like nor those who are unlike, nor those who are good, nor those who are akin (oi oikeioi), nor any of the others we have gone through” (222e3-5)—is genuine or masks a doctrinal resolution available within the text. In a series of papers on the Lysis, Francisco Gonzalez has presented an historically and philologically sophisticated interpretation which claims that in the Lysis, Socrates replaces traditional notions of “kinship” (or what is oikeion) with a philosophical kinship grounded in wisdom, one which ultimately undermines the filial bond between parents and children. I argue that Gonzalez’s interpretation cannot account for the numerous instances of non-philosophical friendships in the dialogue and thus succumbs to the danger of ascribing closure to a dialogue whose aporia is ultimately genuine. In my conclusion, I probe whether this critique poses problems for “Third Way” interpretations of Plato’s dialogues.

Although the second book of Aristotle’s Politics distinguishes between proposed and existing constitutions, careful examination of the criteria which Aristotle uses to judge Plato’s Republic and the Spartan constitution blurs the relevance of such a division. Aristotle uses the same four criteria to evaluate both constitutions and scholars have failed to appreciate that he uses the same criteria to organize his presentation of many of the arguments in Politics 2. By contrast, Aristotle discounts the criteria of stability in Politics 2. Aristotle’s selective use of criteria calls into question the claim that his best regime can serve as a regulative ideal for judging existing constitutions.

In the last two books of the Politics, Aristotle articulates an education program for his best regime in contrast to what he takes to be the goal and practices of Sparta’s educational system. Although Aristotle never refers to his program as liberal education, clearly he takes its goal to be the production of free male and female citizens. By contrast, he characterizes the results of the Spartan system as ‘crude’, ‘slavish’, and ‘servile’. I argue that Aristotle’s criticisms of Spartan education elucidate his general understanding of Sparta and provide an interpretative key to understanding Politics 7–8. But although Aristotle contrasts the goals and methods of Spartan education with that of his own best regime, the citizens of his best regime are more like Spartan citizen-soldiers than Athenian participatory-citizens.

At first glance, it looks like Aristotle can’t make up his mind about the ethical or moral status of non-human animals in his ethical treatises. Somewhat infamously, the Nicomachean Ethics claims that “there is neither friendship nor justice towards soulless things, nor is there towards an ox or a horse” (EN 8.11.1161b1–2). Since Aristotle thinks that friendship and justice are co-extensive (EN 8.9.1159b25–32), scholars have often read this passage to entail that humans have no ethical obligations to non-human animals. By contrast, although the Eudemian Ethics denies that non-human animals can participate in “primary” friendships, EE 7.2 claims that “the other kinds of friendship are also found among animals; and it is evident that utility is present to some extent among them both in relation to humankind, in the case of tame animals, and in relation to each other” (EE 7.2.1236b3–11). Does the Nicomachean account of non-human animals contradict that of the Eudemian Ethics? Ultimately, I believe the Nicomachean account is consistent with the Eudemian account. Nonetheless, I argue that Aristotle’s treatment of non-human animals differs significantly in the two texts. My chapter explores this difference in greater detail and considers the ramifications of such a difference for our understanding of Aristotle’s place in the philosophical tradition concerning the ethical status of non-human animals.

Les études sur les ramifications politiques de la conception aristotélicienne de l’amitié ont été consacrées à «l’amitié politique» et ont perdu de vue l’importance de sa description de la «concorde» (ὁμόνοια). Cela s’explique par un certain nombre de raisons, dont la plus importante est qu’Aristote offre un compte rendu précis de la concorde, mais qu’il n’a presque rien à dire sur l’amitié politique. Mon article examine les aspects éthiques et politiques de la concorde à la lumière d’un désaccord entre Richard Bodéüs et René Gauthier sur l’autonomie de l’Éthique à Nicomaque d’Aristote en tant qu’œuvre de théorie éthique.

Scholars of race in antiquity commonly claim that Aristotle holds protoracist views about barbaroi or non-Greeks. But a careful examination of Aristotle's remarks in his Politics about slavery, non-Greek political institutions, and Greek and non-Greek natural qualities calls into question such claims. No doubt, Aristotle held views at odds with modern liberalism, such as his views about gender subordination and the exploitation of slave and nonslave labor. But claims that Aristotle holds protoracist views are regularly but erroneously asserted without careful consideration of relevant textual evidence. I argue that Aristotle neither categorically distinguishes Greeks and non-Greeks nor does he endorse the claim that Greeks are categorically superior to non-Greeks. Indeed, Aristotle regularly draws upon non-Greek political institutions in his own formulation of the best constitution and he praises the non-Greek constitution of Carthage as superior to that of Greek constitutions such as Sparta and Crete.

Politics VII.1-3 enacts a contest that concludes that ‘whether for a whole city-state in common or for an individual, the best way of life would be a practical one’. Scholarship on VII.1-3 has focused on the best way of life for an individual to the neglect and even misunderstanding of the best way of life for a polis. The best way of life for a polis is, I argue, a specification of the foreign policy or ‘inter-polis’ relations for the best constitution. Such a foreign policy appears to include the possibilities of both isolationism and regional hegemony, although Politics VII-VIII more broadly suggests that such latitude is constrained by the teleology of life, which shows that war should be pursued only for the sake of peace.

Il y a vingt-cinq ans, j’étais un étudiant de doctorat intéressé par la philosophie d’Aristote et à la recherche d’un sujet de thèse. Au cours de mes études supérieures, j’ai eu la chance d’étudier l’Éthique à Nicomaque avec Rémi Brague et Les Politiques avec Judith Swanson. Ces deux érudits m’ont, à leur façon, fait prendre conscience de l’importance d’enquêter sur le public cible des œuvres d’Aristote. Tous deux parlaient en bien du livre Le philosophe et la cité (Les Belles Lettres, 1982) de Richard Bodéüs, qui venait d’être traduit en anglais sous le titre The Political Dimensions of Aristotle’s Ethics (State University of New York Press, 1993). Il se trouva qu’un jour de printemps, ayant été appelé à siéger comme juré, je pris avec moi mon tout nouvel exemplaire du volume de Bodéüs. Heureusement, le jury ne fut pas convoqué, mais on ne me laissa pas partir avant la fin de l’après-midi. Aussi passai-je toute la journée au palais de justice à lire l’ouvrage de Bodéüs et à réfléchir à la relation entre le concept de justice déployé dans l’Éthique à Nicomaque et les analyses des constitutions qu’on trouve dans Les Politiques. Je découvris alors une réflexion savante, riche et profondément historique, portant sur la façon de comprendre les divers traités d’Aristote sur «la philosophie des choses humaines» (EN 10.9.1181b15). C’est ainsi que je fus mis sur la voie du sujet de sur lequel porterait ma thèse : la nature de la justice politique chez Aristote. C’est aussi ainsi que j’en vins à penser en compagnie de l’un des plus éminents spécialistes et traducteurs d’Aristote du siècle dernier. En 2018, la Northeast Political Science Association annonça que sa réunion annuelle allait se tenir à Montréal et invita ses membres à soumettre des contributions dans les deux langues officielles canadiennes. Étant donné que Montréal abrite également l’université dans laquelle Bodéüs avait enseigné, l’Université de Montréal, il m’est immédiatement venu à l’esprit de proposer un panel bilingue pour explorer la philosophie d’Aristote à la lumière de son ouvrage novateur, Le philosophe et la cité, qui fut déterminant pour mon parcours intellectuel. Deux panels furent constitués. Le premier rassemblait les participants anglophones : Jordan Jochim (Cornell University), Kevin Cherry (Richmond University) et moi-même (Quinnipiac University), et fut présidé par Jill Frank (Cornell University). Le second panel rassemblait les participants francophones : Léa Derome (Université McGill), Timothée Gautier (Université Paris 1 — Panthéon-Sorbonne), Louise Rodrigue (Collège universitaire dominicain), et fut présidé par Elsa Bouchard (Université de Montréal). Bodéüs, qui est à présent professeur émérite, accepta généreusement de lire toutes les contributions à l’avance et, combattant un mal de gorge le jour de la conférence, accompagna chacune d’entre elles de commentaires à la fois perspicaces et magnanimes. N’ayant pas pu inclure toutes les présentations de la conférence de novembre 2018, ce numéro de Dialogue comprend les versions révisées de trois contributions : mon “ὁμόνοια: The Hinge of Aristotle’s Ethics and Politics?”, la contribution de Kevin Cherry, “Lawgivers, Virtue, and the Mixed Regime: Reflections on Richard Bodéüs’s The Political Dimensions of Aristotle’s Ethics,” et celle de Louise Rodrigue, «La conception aristotélicienne de la servilité dans l’Éthique et la Politique». Nous remercions tout particulièrement Léa Derome, qui a édité cette tribune du livre, coordonné la soumission de nos documents et des réponses de Bodéüs à Dialogue, et a aidé à la traduction en français. Les trois articles présentés composent avec des interrogations héritées du travail du professeur Bodéüs. Nous sommes donc particulièrement reconnaissants qu’il ait accepté de contribuer à ce projet de publication. Nous espérons que l’ensemble parvienne à capturer ne serait-ce qu’un simulacre de l’expérience intellectuelle passionnante que fut notre journée de conférences de novembre 2018.