Sarah Broadie

(1941 - 2021)

Part 1 examines the roles of (a) intelligent cause, (b) empirical materials (fire, earth etc.), and (c) the resulting cosmos, in the account of world-making in the Timaeus. It is argued that the presence of (b) is essential for the distinctness of (a) and (c); and an explanation is proposed for why the biblical idea of creation faces no such problem. Part II shows how different suggestions implicit in Plato's doctrine of the intelligible model give rise to radically different kinds of Platonic metaphysics.

Le sujet de l’étude est la relation entre le bonheur et la chance selon Aristote. Ce problème est abordé à partir de la question de savoir si la sagesse et la vertu suffisent au bonheur. Si tel était le cas, une personne pauvre et malade serait heureuse. Pour Aristote, au contraire, le bonheur nécessite des biens non moraux pour être complet. Le bonheur n’est pas seulement ce qui rend les autres choses bonnes, il est aussi ce qui est complet et désirable. Dans ce cas, la question du rapport du bonheur à la chance se pose : le bonheur dépend-il de la chance? Ce problème est lui-même examiné dans le cas particulier d’un bien non moral : la fin de la vie. Aristote est-il d’accord avec le mot de Solon : « Ne pas dire “heureux” ceux qui sont encore vivants, mais seulement une fois la fin atteinte. » Peut-on dire qu’une vie est heureuse même si sa fin est inconnue? Peut-on dire qu’elle est heureuse maintenant, quand on sait qu’elle se terminera misérablement? L’auteur fait une lecture détaillée des deux traitements qu’Aristote donne à cette question en EE II 1 et EN I 10-11. Elle montre que, selon l’ Éthique à Nicomaque, il est possible de dire que quelqu’un est heureux même si l’on ne connaît pas la fin de sa vie. Le bonheur ne dépend pas du hasard dans la mesure où le bonheur dépend entièrement de l’activité vertueuse qui, à son tour, ne dépend que de l’agent. L’article se termine par une analyse plus brève de ce qu’on appelle la « chance constitutive » en EN III 7 et X 10.

This chapter continues the discussion of Cambiano's on A 1, since Aristotle's chapters A 1-2 are evidently a continuous introduction. The problem of what exactly it is an introduction to, i.e. the perennial question of the unity and diversity of Aristotle's metaphysical treatises, is considered here, although necessarily only in outline. It is also argued that, contrary to some scholarly opinions, this introduction should not be regarded as a protreptic to philosophy as such, i.e. as belonging to the genre of Aristotle's Protrepticus. Whereas that genre aims to promote the pursuit of sophia as a way of life, hence as ultimately an ethical choice or determination of the highest human good, the present text is meant to establish the nature of the highest or most paradigmatic form of cognition as such, leaving aside the question of ranking this in relation to other possible candidates for the highest good overall.

Plato's Sun-Like Good is a revolutionary discussion of the Republic's philosopher-rulers, their dialectic, and their relation to the form of the good. With detailed arguments Sarah Broadie explains how, if we think of the form of the good as 'interrogative', we can re-conceive those central reference-points of Platonism in down-to-earth terms without loss to our sense of Plato's philosophical greatness. The book's main aims are: first, to show how for Plato the form of the good is of practical value in a way that we can understand; secondly, to make sense of the connection he draws between dialectic and the form of the good; and thirdly, to make sense of the relationship between the form of the good and other forms while respecting the contours of the sun-good analogy and remaining faithful to the text of the Republic itself.

In De Interpretatione 9 Aristotle considers the proposition that everything that is or comes to be, is or comes to be of necessity. From the supposition that this is so, he draws the following consequence: ‘[In that case] there would be no need to deliberate or take trouble, [saying] that if we do this there will be so and so, and if we do not do this there will not be so and so’. Finding this result absurd, he rejects the supposition and concludes that some events or states of affairs are contingent.

The Receptacle of the title is, of course, the ‘Receptacle of all becoming’ in Plato’s Timaeus. Plato likens it to a ‘nurse’, and even calls it a ‘mother’. He speaks of it as that in which its contents come to be, only in their turn to disappear from it. He compares it to a mass of gold which someone incessantly remoulds into different shape. He declares it completely unchanging: ‘it does not depart from its own character in any way'. What is its character? It is the character of possessing and acquiring no character similar to that of any of the objects said to enter it and disappear from it. Plato says too that it is space; the receptacle is what makes it true that each of those objects is somewhere. And finally, as if he had not already given us far too much to digest of this very rich subject, Plato adds that the Receptacle shakes its contents with a sort of winnowing motion, and in fact was already doing this even before the craftsman god had formed this world of ours. The question of this paper is: what is the function of this multifariously conceived entity, or principle, the Receptacle? I shall approach by asking what its contents are.