Thornton Lockwood

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.

Pierre Pellegrin has devoted his scholarly life to the understanding of Aristotle the political philosopher, Aristotle the life-scientist, and—perhaps most importantly—Aristotle the analyst of life-science who is also a political philosopher. Like D. M. Balme, Allan Gotthelf, and James Lennox—Pellegrin is one of the foremost scholars who has sought to understand Aristotle’s biological writings in a philosophically and philologically sophisticated fashion. Pellegrin is also one of the foremost scholars who has sought to understand the intersection between Aristotle’s biological studies and his other works, especially the ethical/political writings, like current scholars such as Sophia Connell, Mariska Leunissen, and Adriel M. Trott. The volume under-review, Anthony Preus’ translation of Pellegrin’s L'Excellence menacée: Sur la philosophie politique d'Aristote (Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2017, reviewed by J.J. Mulhern for BMCR) is especially welcome because it brings together in one volume—ably rendered into English by Preus—analytical threads that Pellegrin has pursued in a number of independent essays on topics such as natural teleology and the Politics, slavery, the composition of the Politics, the nature of political friendship, and the structure and diversity of Aristotelian constitutions.

In anticipation of updating annotated bibliographies on Aristotle’s Ethics and Politics for Oxford Bibliography Online, I have sought to keep a running tabulation of all books, edited collections, translations, and journal articles which are primarily devoted to Aristotle’s ethical and political writings (including their historical reception but excluding neo–Aristotelian virtue ethics). In general, criteria for inclusion in this bibliography are that the work be: (1) publication in a peer–reviewed or academic/university press between 2011–2020; (2) “substantially” devoted to one of Aristotle’s ethical or political works (e.g., Pol, EN, EE, MM, Athenian Constitution, Protrepticus); and/or (3) devoted to ethical or political concepts examined elsewhere in Aristotle’s corpus (e.g., Rhetoric, Poetics, zoological treatises, etc.). I encourage scholars to alert me about published works that I have omitted or listed incorrectly.

My chapter explores Aristotle’s account of classical Greek democracy in three parts. The first part examines the notion of democracy “taxonomically,” namely as a kind of political organization that admits of a number of normatively ranked “species.” The second part provides an overview of Aristotle’s historical remarks on Athenian democracy and a more focused analysis of his account of the political reforms that Solon introduced to Athens in the early 6th C., a form of political organization that Aristotle characterizes as the “ancestral democracy” (δημοκρατίαν τὴν πάτριον [Pol 2.12.1273b38]). I argue that Aristotle judges Solon’s moderating political reforms—specifically, assigning to the δῆμος or “the people” the roles of electing and auditing (εὐθύναι) magistrates—as a pre-eminent solution to the problem of democratic participation. Finally, in the third part of my chapter I examine Aristotle’s evaluation of democracy, especially “democratic justice”, and the overlapping ways that he evaluates constitution-types. My analysis of Aristotle’s evaluation of justice claims that the features of moderate democracy and polity are very similar to those of the Solonian constitution, which further supports my claim that Aristotle views Solon as the pre-eminent democratic theorist of ancient Greece.

At first glance, Aristotle’s Politics is a repository of dry, professorial lecture notes. Although the work contains the occasional literary reference or historical digression, analysis, argumentation, and socio-political taxonomies predominate. Beneath the surface of such prose, Pangle locates an Aristotle who seeks to involve the reader in dialogical exchange—much like as in a Platonic dialogue—by means of dialectical, rhetorical and literary devices. Pangle—a student of the political theorist Leo Strauss, a translator of Plato, Aristophanes and Sophocles, and the author of books on modern political theorists such as Montesquieu, Locke, and the Federalist Papers—has written a study of the Politics informed not only by a close reading of the text, but also its relationship to modern republicanism, and the conflict between rationalism and religion. A previously published introduction presents what Pangle takes to be Aristotle’s rhetorical strategy in the Politics; it is followed by chapters organized around individual books in the Politics (a chapter each for Politics I, II, and III, and consolidated chapters for Politics IV-VI and VII-VIII—the last of which had been previously published in part). The text is followed by almost 50 pages of notes, notes in which Aquinas is cited as frequently (and sometimes more frequently) than contemporary Aristotle scholars like P. Simpson, R. Kraut, and E. Schütrumpf and Alfarabi is cited more frequently than F. Miller (although by far the most frequently cited authorities are the 19th century scholars F. Susemihl, R.D. Hicks, and above all, W. Newman). The book is clearly a mature work of scholarship, informed by extended reflection on Aristotle’s Politics and the subsequent western tradition of political theory and philological commentary which has responded to it.

Malcolm Schofield, the honorand of this Festschrift, needs no introduction to scholars working in classics and ancient philosophy. The volume includes a six and a half page bibliography of his works over the last 30 years, and his books, translations, edited collections, and articles range over all subsections and periods of ancient philosophy, from the pre-Socratics through Hellenistic Greek and Roman philosophy. His two most recent books--<i>Plato: Political Philosophy</i> (Oxford, 2006) and an edited volume of Plato translations (Cambridge, 2010)--have focused on aspects of classical political philosophy, and such is the main (although not exclusive) focus of the volume. Harte and Lane, two of Schofield’s most distinguished students, organized a Mayweek conference at Cambridge in 2011 honoring Schofield; fifteen of the seventeen papers in the volume derive from the conference, and many of the papers refer to what must have been spirited discussion from the conference (book chapters also make reference to relevant discussions amongst them). Each editor contributed a paper to the volume (which were not presented at the conference) and together they have produced a superbly and flawlessly edited collection that includes a general introduction which discusses the ample connections between Schofield’s work and the volume’s papers (and many thanks to the editors from individual authors for improving their contributions). In addition to a bibliography of Schofield’s published writings, the volume concludes with a general and index locorum. The quality of both the contributors and their contributions is very high--a testament (were it needed) to Schofield’s towering influence upon the field of ancient philosophy.

Aristotle's Politics claims that the polis or city-state "exists by nature" (Pol. 1.2.1252630). Thinkers as diverse as Marsilius of Padua, Thomas Hobbes, and Martha Nussbaum have struggled with how to interpret such a claim-some finding in it a salutary alternative to existing political theories, others finding in it the basis of deeply wrong-headed political thinking. In Aristotle on the Nature of Community, Adriel Trott seeks both to elucidate and to defend Aristotle's claim about the naturalness of the polis by interpreting nature in the Politics through the notion of nature as an internal principle of motion ( a notion central to the understanding of natural things articulated in his treatise thereupon, viz. Physics2.1).

It is a truism that Aristotle distinguishes theoretical, practical, and productive sciences; but Aristotle’s Metaphysics begins with a discussion of the nature of the free person and his Nicomachean Ethics concludes with one of his clearest statement of the nature of theoria, so perhaps the boundaries between those sci-ences in existing works are more porous. Curtis Johnson, author of Aristotle’s Theory of the State (New York: Macmillan, 1990), in his current volume seeks to clarify the boundary between theoretical science (the ‘Philosophy’ of his title) and practical science (the ‘Politics’) in Aristotle’s Politics in order to identify the theoretical philosophy that he believes undergirds the work and to engage some of the perennial practical problems in the text (such as the identity of what Aris-totle calls ‘the best constitution’).

Arriving at definitions in philosophy is as time-honored as it is controversial. Although learned reflection in the west about sport goes back at least to the time of ancient Greece, the sub-discipline of the philosophy of sport emerged in the world of Anglophone analytic philosophy in the 1970s. Shawn Klein’s edited volume, Defining Sport: Conceptions and Borderlines, is both the fruit of and a valuable contribution to such an emerging field (indeed, it is the first book-length study of its topic within philosophy of sport). Although Huizinga had sought to define the phenomenon of play very broadly in his Homo Ludens (1938), investigation of the overlapping questions of what is sport? what is a game?, and what is play? were central to the sub-discipline at its inception. Foundational was the work of Bernard Suits, whose Grasshopper: Games, Life, and Utopia (1978) sought to refute Wittgenstein’s claim that the notion of game was indefinable. In order to refute Wittgenstein, Suits sought to establish the conditions or properties both necessary and sufficient of the concepts of game and sport such that all instances of those concepts share such properties.

This is a big book. Literally. Each of its almost 800 pages is 6.75” x 9.75” (rather than the somewhat more usual 5.75” x 8.75” sized page of an academic hardcover book), with words in a small font and short margins all-around. It would appear that the publisher used a number of production tricks to squeeze in as many words as possible. Which is understandable because Politics & Philosophy at Rome contains the collected papers (mostly published, but several unpublished) of Miriam T. Griffin, one of the biggest and most important Anglophone scholars of Roman philosophy, who passed away shortly before the book was completed in 2018. Students of Cicero, Tacitus, and Seneca are especially in debt to her for the rigorous and richly contextualized studies she has produced of their ethical, historical, and political works. And all students of ancient Rome are in debt for the republication of fifty of her papers, which range over three areas (and are organized into three subsections in the book). The first part of the book includes ten papers on Roman history (in both the republican and imperial periods). The second part of the book includes seven published papers, five unpublished lectures, and three “occasional pieces” on Roman historiography (especially in the case of Tacitus). A third and final section of the book includes 25 papers on Roman politics and philosophy (which includes almost 400 pages of material).

The nature of the edited scholarly collection has undergone a sea change. Whereas once upon a time edited collections brought together conference papers or previously published landmark studies—whose mark of excellence is scholarly rigor—more recently libraries have been inundated by Guides, Companions, and Handbooks. The Guide/Companion/Handbook model has its uses, perhaps especially for introductory essays or overviews of topics in which clarity, rather than cutting-edge scholarship, is the mark of excellence. Between these two models falls a new and somewhat unprecedented (at least in Aristotle scholarship) genre of collection, what Cambridge University Press is characterizing as a Critical Guide. The volume’s self-description claims that it is a “collection of newly commissioned essays…present[ing] a thorough and close examination of the work” which will “challenge and advance the scholarship on the Ethics</i>, establishing new ways of viewing and appreciating the work for all scholars of Aristotle.” Clearly, one is no longer looking at introductory essays.

The image of a copy of Praxiteles’ Aphrodite—nude but demurely shielding her pubic region—which adorns the dust cover of Pearson’s superb monograph, Aristotle on Desire</i>), suggests to the casual book buyer that the volume encased therein will explain Aristotle’s thoughts about sexual desire—perhaps as a central part or the paradigm case of his general theory of desire. But the goddess likes being tricky: Aristotle has very little to say about sexual desire (at best it is a subcategory of <i>epithumia</i>, set alongside the desires for eating and drinking and reduced to tactile stimulation), and it is not immediately apparent that he possesses a general theory or account of desire. No doubt, Aristotle discusses many aspects of <i>orexis</i> (Aristotle’s general term for desire) in relationship to human action, in his consideration of the rhetorical manipulation of the emotions, and in his examination of animate motion. But as Pearson notes, neither in Aristotle’s catalog of writings nor in his surviving works is there an Aristotelian <i>peri orexeôs</i>. Pearson’s monograph, which is the “distant descendant” of a Ph.D. completed at Cambridge in 2004, thus is an exercise in detective work which combs through Aristotle’s discussions of desire throughout the corpus (albeit with focus on the ethical treatises, the <i>Rhetoric</i>, and <i>De Anima</i>) in order to reconstruct what a general theory of desire would look like for Aristotle. Pearson does a masterful job at drawing together into a coherent whole many of Aristotle’s scattered remarks about the different aspects of desire and provides a model for textual analysis of philosophically abstruse passages. Along the way, he overturns a number of scholarly orthodoxies (for instance, that Aristotle’s account of <i>thumos</i> retains elements of Platonic <i>thumos</i> or “spiritedness” or that <i>thumos</i> has a unique relationship to the <i>kalon</i> or what is fine) and situates Aristotle’s theory amidst contemporary philosophers of desire such as Thomas Nagle, Thomas Scanlon, and G.F. Schuler. The result is a landmark work of scholarship that scholars working on Aristotle’s moral psychology will need to engage and argue with. Whether the work warrants the adornment of Aphrodite is a question to which I will return in my conclusion.

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.

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.

For the last four decades, David Keyt has devoted substantial scholarly energy to the reconstruction of political and ethical arguments in Aristotle’s <i>Nicomachean Ethics</i> and <i>Politics</i>, and to a lesser degree the same in Plato’s <i>Republic</i>. Although Keyt’s translation of and commentary on <i>Politics</i> Books V and VI in the Aristotle Clarendon series (1999), to my mind, is his most substantial contribution to ancient philosophy scholarship, close competitors are his scholarly articles which seek to reconstruct the philosophical positions of Aristotle (and to a lesser extent Plato) with pain-staking logical and philological care. <i>Nature and Justice</i> contains eleven such articles, eight previously published and three appearing for the first time. (Titles are listed at the end of the review.) Several of the articles are landmark works of Aristotle scholarship both for the scholarly controversies which they have sparked and for the methodological approach they exhibit.

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.

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.

To modern ears, the word Epicurean indicates (if anything) an interest in fine dining. But at least throughout the early modern period up until the 19th century, Epicureanism was known less for its relation to food preparation and more so, if not scandalously so, for its doctrine about the annihilation of the human soul at death, its denial of human immortality, and its attempt to justify the claim that death should not be feared since “Death is nothing to us” ( Kyriai Doxai [hereafter KD] 2). Epicureans — like many ancient schools of thought — sought to establish an objective “morality of happiness” or rational teaching about right conduct which allowed its practitioners to arrive at a kind of well-being. Epicureans identified such well-being or happiness with “freedom from disturbance” ( ἀταραξία), and insofar as the fear of death undermined such contentedness in life, they presented arguments against the claim that death was a bad thing. Put more concisely, Epicureans believe that (as James Warren [JW] puts it), “if we think about death correctly, we think about living a good life correctly, and vice versa” (7). But whereas other ancient thinkers — most famously Socrates and his students — had sought to cure the fear of death by positing an immortal soul which philosophy was to prepare for life after the death of one’s body, Epicureans took the opposite route and argued that in part it was the longing for an impossible immortality that contributed to the fearfulness of death.

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.

Few ideas are more central to Aristotle’s thought than that of the causal purposiveness of natural things. Few ideas in the Aristotelian corpus are more controverted—whether historically, by early modern natural philosophers seeking to break with Aristotelian science or currently, by modern scholars of ancient philosophy seeking to interpret Aristotle’s physics—than what has come to be called Aristotle’s “teleology” (a term coined in the 18th century, apparently by the German philosopher Christian Wolff). In this ambitious study (derived from the author’s 2003 doctoral dissertation at the University of Toronto), Monte Johnson [J.] aims at two goals: to determine both how Aristotle uses the notions of “ends” or purposes in his natural philosophy and what are the limits to Aristotle’s teleological explanations.

Balot’s (B.) Greek Political Thought aims to provide an “introductory guide” for undergraduate and graduate students to ancient Greek thinkers (broadly construed) from Homer through Epicurus who wrote in both systematic and unsystematic ways about life in the Greek polis (viii). B. notes that he has not tried to locate his arguments within current scholarly discussions (although he does include a 19 page bibliographic essay that provides an overview of Anglophone scholarship on Greek political thought). Nonetheless, he states that he hopes scholars will be able to recognize his take on scholarly arguments and appreciate what is distinctive in his approach, which combines normative and historical analysis. B. also characterizes his volume as distinctive in that it approaches Greek political thought through ethical thought, or what he calls “the perspective of ‘virtue politics'” (ix), a point I will consider at greater length below.

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.

Destrée and Giannopoulou have provided scholars with thirteen exegetically rich and philosophically sophisticated chapters on Plato’s Symposium, written for the most part by scholars with numerous publications (in several cases, numerous books) on Plato, classical Greek moral psychology, and ancient Greek philosophy. Many of the chapters warrant discussion at least to the length that I am allotted for my review of the entire volume, which alas I cannot provide here. Running through the volume is a commitment to understanding Plato’s Symposium through the interrelations of the dialogue’s various encomia of Erôs and their anticipations of Diotima’s account.

In the introduction to her book-length study of Aristotle’s concept of “στάσις” (variously translated in English as civil war, revolution, faction, unrest, but which I will leave untranslated), Esther Rogan writes that “En France, un travail exhaustif et systématique restait donc à accomplir sur la stásis</i> chez Aristote, afin de prolonger et de faire se rejoindre les perspectives développées par Nicole Loraux et par Pierre Pellegrin, mais également afin d’inscrire les débats anglo-saxons dans le champ de la recherche française et, ainsi, prendre position dans ces discussions” (24). Rogan’s book admirably accomplishes all those goals and much more. Although the book focuses on Aristotle’s account of στάσις, her inquiry is wide ranging with substantive insights about both the methodology of interpreting ancient Greek political thought generally and more specifically Aristotle’s political thought. The work engages so many different debates and such a broad range of Anglophone and Francophone scholarship that it should not be pigeonholed as “a book on στάσις”; rather, this is a substantive interpretation of Aristotle’s political thought as a whole, albeit through the fascinating lens of political unrest.

Aristotle’s notion of force seems to be the same as what we mean by “brute force,” or as an example of the Eudemian Ethics puts it, one is “forced” when one’s hand is literally seized by another and used to strike another person. But closer scrutiny suggests something else must be going on if for no other reason than that Aristotle, in his description of force, makes reference to a do-er (o( pra/ttwn [EN III.1.1110a2]). Based on such an insight, Flannery’s “Force and Compulsion in Aristotle’s Ethics” subjects the account of forced actions, actions done under compulsion, and so called “mixed actions” in Aristotle’s ethical treatises to careful scrutiny. In my comments I focus upon two of his claims: First, that although Aristotle includes a notion of “brute force” in his account of force, he doesn’t limit his account just to that notion; and second, that Aristotle’s account of force presupposes or includes what he calls “a particular anthropology.”

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).

The opening words of the second book of Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics are as familiar as any in his corpus: Excellence of character results from habituation [ethos]—which is in fact the source of the name it has acquired [êthikê], the word for ‘character-trait’ [êthos] being a slight variation of that for ‘habituation’ [ethos]. This makes it quite clear that none of the excellences of character [êthikê aretê] comes about in us by nature; for no natural way of being is changed through habituation [ethizetai]. Equally familiar, unfortunately, is the characterization of Aristotle’s notion of character formation as a form of habituation by means of the repetition of actions which results in a “habit” in the same way that a weight lifter produces muscles through the repetition of exertions. As a 19th century commentator remarked on the passage above, “[insert Grant].” From a Socratic perspective, such a view of becoming good seems hopelessly rigid and unconnected to the intellectual development which knowledge of the good requires. Habit and habituation in Aristotle seem eminently familiar and eminently unphilosophical. Such a view would be mistaken on at least three counts. First, the notion of character formation (to use the broadest possible term for the phenomenon of habituation) in Aristotle is significantly more complicated than the notion that through habituation one develops good habits which are what we mean by ethical virtue. Although character formation includes the development of proper emotional responses, such as taking pleasure in what is fine and being repulsed by what is shameful, it is equally concerned with cognitive development independent of the intellectual virtues. Second, although Aristotle’s terms for “ethics” (êthica), character-trait (êthos), and habituation (ethos, ethismos, or ethizetai) are linguistically and conceptually interrelated, his notion of “ethical state” (hexis) is both linguistically and conceptually quite distinct from the notion of “habit,” at least as we use that term today. As one Aristotle translator has put it, “A hexis is not only not the same thing as a habit, but is almost exactly its opposite.” For Aristotle, a hexis is a dynamic equilibrium which, although always productive of virtuous actions, is nonetheless the basis for being virtuous in varied circumstances. Thirdly, once Aristotle’s notion of a character state is retrieved from its false association with “habit” and repetitive habituation, one sees that its apparent divorce from practical reason is more a fixture of Aristotle’s analytical method and its connotations of inflexibility or fixedness are in fact antithetical to Aristotle’s description of ethical virtue. Rather than view ethical “character” in its Greek etymological sense as an indelibly fixed or engraved mark or stamp (charactêr) upon one’s soul, Aristotle’s notion of ethical character (êthos) or virtue (aretê) captures the notion of a virtuoso who is responsive in an excellent fashion to what reason perceives in particular and changing circumstances.

The closing chapters of Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics x are regularly described as “puzzling,” “extremely abrupt,” “awkward,” or “surprising” to readers. Whereas the previous nine books described—sometimes in lavish detail—the multifold ethical virtues of an embodied person situated within communities of family, friends, and fellow-citizens, NE x 6-8 extol the rarified, god-like and solitary existence of a sophos or sage (1179a32). The ethical virtues that take up approximately the first half of the Ethics describe moral exempla who experience fear fighting for their communities, are sensitive to the esteem and recognition of others, and feel love for a desire to live together with a wide variety of kinds of friends. Such good people take pleasure in prudently expending sums to improve their communities—communities in which they exchange goods and participate in ruling and being ruled in a cooperative fashion. The exemplum of x 7-8, by contrast, is a person whose activity consists almost entirely in exercising his or her mind (nous)—a part of one’s soul that Aristotle explicitly notes is disconnected from human emotions and that can be exercised, insofar as one as wise, in a wholly solitary fashion (1178a15-16, a19-20; 1177a33-34). Although Aristotle’s claim that a “life in accord with the mind” is best and most pleasant (1178a6-7) may jar the intuitions of many people—he himself endorses Anaxagoras’ claim that the happy person will appear as “someone who is absurd” (atopos, 1179a15) to most people—it is false to claim that his conclusions in NE x 6-8 are unexpected or unanticipated, or that the text is in any way discontinuous with what precedes it. The Nicomachean Ethics exhibits aspects of ring-composition both within the work as a whole and within book 10. In NE i 5 Aristotle introduces his rendition of a trope that he inherits (most immediately) from Plato, viz. that the problem of the good can be considered like a contest between three different kinds of life—the life of enjoyment (apolaustikos), the life of politics (politikos), and the life of contemplation (theôrêtikos). NE x 6-8 returns to that contest, rendering a verdict about which life takes first, second, and third place. As the opening lines of NE x 6 note, that verdict presupposes central claims articulated between the first and last books of the Ethics, specifically about the nature of the virtues, the nature of friendship, and the nature of pleasure. NE i 5 and x 6-8 thus serve as “bookends” which encase arguments and proposition located between them. Book 10 exhibits a similar ring-composition. NE x opens with methodological reflection on the gap between the theoretical positions that thinkers articulate and the way they live their lives (especially in the case of scolds who simultaneously criticize pleasure on a scientific level but seek it on a practical level [1172a33-b8]). Chapter 8 concludes with an explicit reiteration of the methodological point, a reiteration that underscores how Aristotle’s treatment of the contest of lives incorporates central aspects of the discussion of pleasure in NE x 1-5. Aristotle’s reiteration of the problem of a gap between theory and practice also draws attention to the centrality of his treatment of pleasure in his adjudication of the three lives. Although the life of pleasure takes a distant third in the contest of lives, the contemplative life wins the contest in part because it itself is the most pleasant form of life. The central philosophical problem looming behind Aristotle’s treatment of the contest of lives concerns the relationship between the notion of activity (energeia) and the notion of a way of life (bios). In the last four decades, much of the scholarship on NE x 6-8 has sought to address the question of what activities a certain way of life includes or excludes. “Monistic” or “dominant” end interpretations of the best life have viewed it as including only contemplative activities whereas “inclusivist” end interpretations of the best life have viewed it as including non-contemplative activities. Although this chapter largely side-steps this debate—partially because there are ample recent first-rate introductory treatments of the debate, partially because I have addressed the question elsewhere in my own writing —I argue that focusing solely on the contest between the two best ways of life overshadows the way that Aristotle incorporates insights from the third way of life into the best way of life. Although the notion of a contest among different kinds of lives presupposes that the lives are mutually exclusive, Aristotle has no problem saying that the contemplative life trumps the life of pleasure because the contemplative life is more pleasant. I proceed in two parts. In the first part I examine what I will call the “outer” ring of the Ethics, namely the relationship between the contest of lives proposed in NE i 5 and its overall resolution in x 6-8. I show how i 5 and x 6 establish the framework for the contest, how x 7 adjudicates that contest in large part by relying upon premises articulated in the interim between books 1 and 10, and how x 6 and x 8 determine the second and third place positions in the contest. In the second part I focus on what I will call the “inner” ring of NE x. More than half of NE x struggles with the nature of pleasure, its role in a happy life, and the methodological problems of examining pleasure within a practical science. I show how x 1 and x 8 are “bookends” that underscore the methodological problem of examining pleasure and how the contest of lives draws upon the proximate conclusions concerning the nature of pleasure in NE x 1-5.

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 that discuss the practical philosophy that Aristotle espouses in his Nicomachean Ethics, Eudemian Ethics, and Politics. Since the beginning of the millennium there have been three new translations of the entire Ethics into English alone, several more that 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 pursuing 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’s Cambridge Companion to Aristotle (1995). Although I have taken guidance from their model, my bibliography differs in one main respect. Whereas Barnes et al. 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.

Although determination, perseverance, and high expectations appear to be laudable characteristics within our society, ambition seems to carry a hint of selfishness or self-promotion (perhaps especially at the cost of others). One can speak of the goals or aims of a team or group, but it seems more characteristic to ascribe ambition to a single individual. Etymologi-cally, ambition derives from the Latin word ambire, which can mean to strive or go around (ambo + ire), but the term also characterizes one who canvasses for votes. It may also be telling that the Latin noun for canvassing (ambitio) is only two letters removed for the Latin term for election fraud (ambitus). It is thus welcome that in his Socrates and Alcibiades Ariel Helfer seeks to examine the notion of political ambition through a study of Plato’s dialogues concerning that most am-bitious of Athenians, Alcibiades, an Athenian general who seems to have epitomized both the German word Wunderkind and the French phrase enfant terrible in his short life. It was one that included leading, betraying, and then leading again the Athenian army and navy during the Peloponnesian Wars. Helfer examines the three dialogues of Plato that include Alcibiades as an interlocutor: First Alcibiades, Second Alcibiades, and the Symposium. He does so (in his words) “to gain a fuller understanding of the constellation of desires that gives political ambition its force, including the desire to be devoted to a noble cause, and to determine whether, in Plato’s understanding, these desires necessarily find their fullest expression in political life” (p. 7).