Thornton Lockwood

Over the last 15 years, a team of Italian scholars, under the auspices of the Istituto italiano per la storia antica and directed by Lucio Bertelli and Mauro Moggi, have produced a six-volume edition of Aristotle’s Politics. Each volume provides a revised Greek text of one or two books of the Politics (with extensive critical apparatus), Italian translation, commentary, and bibliography. The volume under review is titled a Guida—although not exactly a “Guide” in the modern sense of a “companion” or “critical guide.” Rather, the edited volume offers synthetic surveys of concepts or themes that go beyond any single book of the Politics. Distinctive of the overall project and the Guida (and somewhat in contrast with mainstream North American scholarship on the Politics) is the goal of embedding analysis of Aristotle’s Politics within rigorous historical-critical philology and contextualized history of political thought. I shall summarize the objectives of the individual chapters and then offer some general comments about method in Aristotle’s Politics and the advantages that a focus on historical context provides.

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’ (ἄριστος βίος ὁ πρακτικός [VII.3 1325b15-16]). 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.

I have sought to keep a running tabulation of all books, edited collections, translations, and journal articles that are substantially devoted to Aristotle’s ethical and political writings (excluding their historical reception and neo-Aristotelian virtue ethics, both of which are subjects that require their own bibliographies). Criteria for inclusion in this bibliography are: (1) published after January 1, 2011 and before December 31, 2020 in a peer-reviewed journal or volume published by an academic press; (2) devoted to one of Aristotle’s ethical or political works (e.g., Politics, Nicomachean Ethics, Eudemian Ethics, Magna Moralia, Oeconomica, 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.). Although this bibliography includes primarily Anglophone scholarship, it aims to include scholarship written in all modern languages. I encourage scholars to notify me about published works that I have omitted or listed incorrectly.

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). Criteria for inclusion in this bibliography are: (1) published after January 1, 2021 (including pre-publication articles assigned a DOI); (2) 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.

Introducing Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics to undergraduates, which is the explicit goal of Michael Pakaluk’s volume, is both easy and difficult. On one level, Aristotle’s text takes a common-sense view of human goodness and the qualities productive of it, a view which resonates with students when they reflect upon the general question of what they seek in life or whom they admire. Topics such as friendship, recognition (a.k.a., ‘honor’), self-improvement, and well-being are part of every student’s lived-experience and Aristotle’s discussion of such topics reaches students ‘where they live’, as it were. And yet, on another level, as any student or teacher of the Nicomachean Ethics has discovered, Aristotle’s text presents numerous philosophical, exegetical, and editorial difficulties. For instance, Aristotle’s discussion of whether friendship is necessary for happiness (EN ix 9) is eminently practical and its conclusion almost trivially commonsensical; and yet Aristotle’s argument in support of the claim that friendship is necessary for happiness contains one of the most impenetrable discussions in the Ethics, namely the account of the apparently reflexive perceptions which only two friends can share (1170a13-b17), a phenomenon that goes to the very question of whether Aristotle possesses a notion of self-consciousness.

I argues that the claim made in the Aristotelian Oeconomica 1.2 (1343a28–31) that farming is just is a point about what Aristotle calls justice as the whole of virtue (EN 5.1.1129b11–19), namely a notion of justice that embodies what is lawful rather than a notion of particular justice within the framework of human exchanges. The first part of the chapter shows why it is problematic to interpret Oec. 1.2 as a claim about particular justice: whereas Aristotelian particular justice consists in finding the mean between gain and loss in inter-personal (or pros heteron) exchanges between two or more parties, Oec. 1.2 juxtaposes farming with all human exchanges, including those that Aristotle clearly recognizes as just. Indeed, Oec. 1.2. seems to claim that farming is just precisely because it is not involved with other humans. The second part of the chapter considers whether one can illuminate Oec. 1.2 by means of Xenophon's account of the justice of farming in his Oeconomicus (e.g., 5.12); but careful examination of what “the earth teaches” the farmer for Xenophon is a function ultimately of care (epimeleia) rather than the exchange-based model of justice assumed in Oec. 1.2. The third part of the chapter proposes an alternative basis for understanding the text, namely that Oec. 1.2 ultimately assumes the framework of what Aristotle calls universal or complete justice, much like one finds in Hesiod’s account of divine justice in relationship to work and agriculture (e.g. WD 230–243). Such a solution views the farmer in an exchange with the earth, but Aristotle usually (for instance, in Politics 1.8–11) characterizes such an exchange as either in accord with nature or contrary to nature (e.g., Pol. 1.10.1258a35–b5), rather than in terms of what is just or unjust. The chapter suggests that the Aristotelian Oec. 1.2 thus shows that claims about “natural” and “unnatural” forms of property appropriation have some affinity with the theocentric framework of Hesiod’s account of justice.

Martha Nussbaum has provided a sustained critique of Cicero’s De officiis (or On Duties), concerning what she claims is Cicero’s incoherent distinction between duties of justice, which are strict, cosmopolitan, and impartial, and duties of material aid, which are elastic, weighted towards those who are near and dear, and partial. No doubt, from Nussbaum’s cosmopolitan perspective, Cicero’s distinction between justice and beneficence seems problematic and lies at the root of modern moral failures to conceptualize adequately our obligations in situations of famine and global inequality. And yet a careful reading of Cicero’s On Duties shows many duties that appear to be partial. It is hard to believe that Cicero’s discussion of these “partial duties” was a mere oversight or omission on his part. Rather, Cicero seemed to have no problem endorsing what I will call the “partial coherence” of duties in the work—namely, the claim that asserting that duties are exhaustively partial or impartial is a false dichotomy. With the help of conceptual analysis by Richard Kraut, my paper aims to establish and defend Cicero’s “partial coherence” against Nussbaum’s criticisms.

Although there is much scholarship on Aristotle’s account of friendship (φιλία), almost all of it has focused on inter-personal relationships between human animals. Nonetheless, in both Aristotle’s ethical and zoological writings, he documents the intra- and inter-species friendship between many kinds of animals, including between human and non-human animals. Such non-human animal friendships establish both an indirect basis for establishing moral ties between humans and non-human animals (insofar as we respect their capacity to love and befriend others) and a direct basis for establishing such ties (insofar as Aristotle provides a framework for thinking about utility and pleasure friendships between human and non-human animals). My paper defends Aristotle’s limitation of inter-species friendships to only utility and pleasure friendships and responds to scholars who claim that Aristotle recognizes no moral ties between human and non-human animals.

At least since Foster (2002), scholars interested in Aristotle’s views about environmental ethics have focused primarily upon his teleological account of non-human animals as the basis for an Aristotelian environmental virtue ethics. But although Aristotle’s scientific account of non-human animals can serve as the basis for a form of environmental ethics akin to “nature preservation,” one finds in his account of “household management” (or oikonomikē) a very different sort of environmental ethic, one that looks much more like a form of “nature conservation.” My paper argues that for Aristotle, oikonomikē is indeed both “environmental” and an “ethic.” The first part of my chapter shows that oikonomikē is fundamentally environmental insofar as it concerns what Aristotle in Politics 1.8 calls “property acquisition in accord with nature” or “true wealth” (Pol. 1.8.1256b26–27, 30–31), namely the prudential use of natural resources in a way that recognizes the dependence of ways of life upon different habitats or environments. The second part of my chapter shows that oikonomikē is also an “ethic” insofar as it embeds three different kinds of limit on the use of animate and inanimate natural resources, namely that natural resource use is subordinate to expertise about the happiness of the political community (or what Aristotle calls “politics” [πολιτική]); that natural resource use, as an instrumental good, is limited and governed by the craft or expertise of oikonomikē; and that notions of unlimited commercial “wealth acquisition” (χρηματιστική) are based on ethically problematic ways of life. After showing that Aristotle’s account of oikonomikē is indeed an environmental ethic, the third part of my chapter considers the objection that oikonomikē is a weak environmental ethic insofar as it is exploitatively or axiological anthropocentric. I respond that Aristotle’s account of non-human animal domestication provides conceptual resources for thinking about non-human animals as subordinate members in one’s ecological-political community, especially with respect to his invocation of the craft analogy (in the example of shepherds) and inter-species utility friendships. Although Aristotle has multiple sources relevant for understanding environmental ethics, his account of oikonomikē is both a neglected source and a potentially fruitful one.

In the Symposium, Plato has Socrates claim that the priestess Diotima once claimed that Eros is a lover of wisdom or someone who is “in between wisdom and ignorance. In fact, you see, none of the gods loves wisdom or wants to become wise—for they are wise—and no one else who is wise loves wisdom.” Perhaps the best starting point for understanding the philosophy of Aristotle is that in principle, he rejects Diotima’s etymological wordplay that claims that philosophy implies an absence of wisdom. At the heart of Aristotle’s philosophy is the claim not only that all humans desire to know, but also that human animals (and indeed some non-human animals) are capable of understanding the world and its contents in a broad array of epistemic capacities, including veridical perception, artisanal expertise, theoretical science, practical wisdom, and, indeed, even σοφία itself of the highest objects of cognition, namely the nature of the gods (Metaph. 1.1.980a22–981b7). My chapter explores the philosophy of Aristotle in five different parts. Part I examines the “organon” or linguistic and logical tool-kit that analyzes human reasoning from the most basic components of a proposition up through syllogistic presentation of the causes that explain what research has uncovered. Parts II and III of the chapter explore the main contours of Aristotle’s “theoretical sciences”—what today we call natural science, metaphysics, and theology. Part IV of the chapter examines what the Nicomachean Ethics calls “the philosophy of human things,” namely the study of ethics and politics. Finally, Part V looks at how Aristotle and his school systemized two different fields of human study, namely that of artistic mimesis or the art of poetry, and deliberative, judicial, and epidictic oratory or the art of rhetoric.

Aristotle of Stagira (384–322 BCE) originates the study of zoology and political science. But whereas his zoology identifies a continuum between human and non-human animals, in his political and ethical works he appears to view human and non-human animals as different in kind in order to illustrate the superiority of the former and justify the instrumental use of the latter. For instance, Aristotle’s account of the virtue of moderation (namely that which concerns how humans experience pleasure) depicts non-human animals as predators who only view other animals as a meal and immoderate human animals as beast-like and disgraceful because they act, “not insofar as they are human beings but insofar as they are animals” (EN 3.10.1118b2–3). Nonetheless, Aristotle wrote another ethical treatise, the Eudemian Ethics, that offers discussions that parallel those in the Nicomachean Ethics but that eschew negative characterizations of non-human animals—as if Aristotle had excised all such negative depictions of non-human animals from the Eudemian text on rhetorical grounds. I argue that the reason that Aristotle treats pleasure so differently is the result of his contrast between ethics as a function of political science (as found in the Nicomachean Ethics) and a “non-political” ethical reflection (as found in the Eudemian Ethics) that is more in line with Aristotle the zoologist.

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.

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.

Classical Sparta is an enigma in many ways, but for ancient and contemporary political theorists it is especially intriguing insofar as its politeia (or its educational/political/social system or “constitution”) produced a city-state that was both the hegemon of all other Greek city-states, for instance during the 5th century Persians wars, but was also ignobly defeated by Thebes at the battle of Leuctra in 371, slightly more than a century later, after which its hegemony collapsed and its subject population of helots won a war of emancipation. How did Sparta field citizen-soldiers in the 5th century who were without parallel in their bravery and military prowess? And why did Sparta, perhaps under the same politeia, collapse just over a century later? Xenophon, Plato, Aristotle, and Plutarch searched for answers to such questions in the Spartan public educational program, its mixed constitutions, and its apparently militaristic goal and orientation. Such 4th century intellectuals (and Plutarch, writing in the 1st century CE) debated whether Sparta’s collapse was the result of deep-rooted problems within its Lycurgan constitution or in Sparta’s subsequent departure from that constitution; there also is significant debate concerning the education and roles of women within Spartan society.

The relationship between nature and normativity in Aristotle’s practical philosophy is problematic. On the one hand, Aristotle insists that ethical virtue arises through the habitual repetition of ethically good actions, and thus no one is good or virtuous by nature. Phusikê aretê or “natural virtue” is more like cleverness (demotes) than prudence (phronêsis) and it can result in wrong actions. Yet on the other hand, at times Aristotle appears to use nature to justify normative claims. Thus the problem with Aristotle’s use of the notion of nature in his practical philosophy is that in some instances what is natural seems to be ethically neutral, but in other instances it seems to set the standard for human perfection. Modern Aristotle exegetes have sometimes argued that Aristotle must, consciously or not, be using the term “nature” in at least two different senses here. To use the language of Julia Annas, when Aristotle talks about “natural virtue” in the sense of the talents or abilities which one possesses from birth, he has in mind the notion of “mere nature,” but when he discusses the perfections which a virtuous individual enjoys by his or her nature, Aristotle has in mind the notion of nature as an “ethical ideal.” I would like to suggest an alternative solution to the problem of reconciling Aristotle’s different senses of nature in his Ethics. In Nicomachean Ethics V.7, Aristotle claims that political justice {to dikaion politikon) possesses a “natural” {phusikon) part and a “conventional” {nomikori) part. Aristotle claims that both nature and convention admit of variation, and his language suggests that the two are ultimately parts which need to be interwoven or combined. Scholars who have struggled with Aristotle’s apparently disparate senses of the idea of nature have assumed that nature is an ethical ideal which can be separated from and serve as a guide for that which is merely conventional. I argue that when Aristotle invokes what is “natural” as a norm, he does so under the assumption that the natural component of a norm is ultimately separable from its conventional part only in abstraction. Just like the syllable “BA” is not reducible to the letters “b” and “a,” but instead is a whole greater than its two parts, political justice is a composite unity of nature and convention which, in unifying the two parts, transforms them.

Pascal famously wrote that Plato and Aristotle “ont écrit de politique c'était comme pour régler un hôpital de fous.” I argue that the best way of understanding Aristotle’s political thought is to see that although Pascal may be right about Plato, he is completely wrong about Aristotle—and that that difference in their political philosophies may provide resources for challenges we face today. The first five chapters of the book argue that Aristotle envisions the paradigmatic case in which the ethical virtue of justice operates as that between citizens within one and the same political community. Just like the virtue of courage is one that paradigmatically applies to a citizen-solider defending his polis, the virtue of justice applies to the citizen-jurist and the citizen-assemblyman, exercising the virtue within the domains of the assembly and the law-courts. The last three chapters argue that Aristotle conceives of justice as an institutional characteristic paradigmatically in the case of politeiai, both in how they are governed and which citizens they incorporate into the governing of the political community. The final chapter maps out how Aristotle understands justice in three domains that are significantly different than paradigmatic citizen roles. I look at what place, if any, Aristotle has for justice between human and non-human animals, within the household (specifically, towards slaves, children, and female spouses), and between poleis (or “inter-nationally”).

Scholars of race in antiquity commonly claim that Aristotle holds proto-racist views about βάρβαροι 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 defenses of gender subordination and the exploitation of slave and non-slave labor. But claims that Aristotle holds proto-racist views are regularly but erroneously asserted without careful consideration of relevant textual evidence. My article argues 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.

Scholars of race in antiquity commonly claim that Aristotle holds proto-racist views about βάρβαροι 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 defenses of gender subordination and the exploitation of slave and non-slave labor. But claims that Aristotle holds proto-racist views are regularly but erroneously asserted without careful consideration of relevant textual evidence. My article argues 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.

In 1816, Thomas Jefferson wrote that the discovery of “representative democracy has rendered useless almost everything written before on the structure of government; and in great measure, relieves our regret, if the political writing of Aristotle, or of any other ancient, have been lost, or are unfaithfully rendered or explained to us” (quoted in Saxonhouse, p. 13). No doubt there are historical reasons to study classical Greece, but between us and them lies not only the discovery of representative democracy, but also the discoveries of Christianity, economics, national and trans-national political institutions, universal human rights, and modern science. What can modern political theory learn from the lessons of old books? Three recent volumes wrestle with this question. Confronting Tyranny asks what we can learn about modern oppressive institutions from their ancient ancestors. In Plato’s Fable, Joshua Mitchell claims that Plato’s Republic offers an account of ethical “imitation” superior to those offered by modern liberalism. In Free Speech and Democracy in Ancient Athens, Arlene Saxonhouse argues that free speech in antiquity differs from our rights-based understanding of the practice, and yet it shed light on the presuppositions of modern freedoms.

Numerous ancient sources attest that Artemisia of Halicarnassus, a fifth-century BCE tyrant whose polis came under Persian rule in 524 BCE, figures prominently in Xerxes’ naval campaign against Greece. At least since Pompeius Trogus’ first-century BCE Philippic History, interpretations of Artemisia have juxtaposed her “virile courage” (uirilem audaciam) with Xerxes’ “womanish fear” (muliebrem timorem) primarily as a means of belittling the effeminate non-Greeks. My paper argues that although Herodotus is aware of such interpretations of Artemisia, he depicts her primarily as an excellent counsel, a woman who is not only brave in battle, but who is a wonder primarily because of her intellectual excellences in deliberative rhetoric and “geo-political” strategy in the Greco-Persian world.

Aristotle’s discussions of natural slavery, ‘barbarian kingship’, and the natural characteristics of barbarians or non-Greeks are usually read as calling into question the intellectual, ethical, and political accomplishments of non-Greeks. Such accounts of non-Greek inferiority or inability to self-govern also appear to presuppose a climatic or environmental account that on the whole would imply severe limitations on the possibility of political flourishing for peoples living outside the Greek Mediterranean basin. In light of such accounts, it is somewhat astounding to find Aristotle praising the social and political institutions of Carthage within his discussion of the best constitution in the second book of the Politics. In the 4th century BCE, Carthage (modern day Tunis) was a Phoenician commercial empire that culturally and linguistically was Semitic and clearly non-Greek. That Aristotle contrasts Carthage, a non-Greek polis, favorably with both Sparta and Crete undermines both the claim that Aristotle embraced a categorical opposition between Greeks and non-Greeks and the claim that he was dismissive of the achievements of non-Greeks.

Pierre Destrée’s new translation of Aristotle’s Poetics notes the work’s “destin paradoxal”: How can a work on Greek tragedy remain silent on the political, social, religious, or performative aspects of an artform that in historical context was profoundly public? How can a handbook on the various aspects of playwriting produce a superior drama when Aristotle himself acknowledges that artistic production is a matter of imagination? Destrée’s answer: Aristotle’s Poetics is neither an historical study of a classical Greek cultural institution nor a handbook for aspiring playwrights. Rather, as is often the case with Aristotle’s treatises, Aristotle has created or carved out a new field for investigation and reflection; thus the Poetics creates the field of aesthetics, namely the study of beauty in the arts. Destrée has successfully produced a volume that provides general readers of Aristotle’s Poetics with the historical, literary, and philosophical tools that will allow them to appreciate that much of what seems odd about that text is only paradoxical.

“The law is reason free from passion.” Thus spoke Harvard Law School Professor Stromwell in the 2001 film Legally Blonde, quoting Aristotle in his Politics (Pol 3.16.1287a33, in Ross 1957). Although a single shout-out to Aristotle in a popular film does not prove a resurgence of neo-Aristotelian jurisprudence in the academy, it does illustrate the pitfalls we face in a culture that traffics in meme quotations risibly attributed to great minds. Thus, George Duke is to be commended for showing why, although there is a sense in which Aristotle believes that law is reason free from passion, things are more complicated than that. Duke argues that Aristotle’s seemingly dispersed statements on law and legislation are unified by a commitment to law’s status as an achievement of practical reason, and his book provides a systematic exposition of the significance and coherence of Aristotle’s account of law and indicates the relevance of this account to contemporary legal theory.