According to Aristotle, the medical art aims at health, which is a virtue of the body, and does so in an unlimited way. Consequently, medicine does not determine the extent to which health should be pursued, and “mental health” falls under medicine only via pros hen predication. Because medicine is inherently oriented to its end, it produces health in accordance with its nature and disease contrary to its nature—even when disease is good for the patient. Aristotle’s politician understands (...) that this inherent orientation can be systematically distorted, and so would see the need for something like the Hippocratic Oath. (shrink)

In book Zeta of the Metaphysics and elsewhere Aristotle appears to commit himself to the following propositions: (1) No universal can be substance; (2) Form is a universal; and (3) Form is that which is most truly substance. These propositions appear to constitute an inconsistent triad lying at the heart of Aristotle’s ontology. A number of attempts have been made to rescue Aristotle from the charge of inconsistency. Some have claimed that Aristotle did not subscribe to (...) (1), but only to the proposition that nothing predicated universally can be substance. Others hold that, contrary to (2), form is not a universal but peculiar to each individual. Still others argue that the sense of ‘substance’ in which the species form is a substance is not the sense in which no universal is substance. I argue that none of these attempts to rescue Aristotle from the charge of inconsistency is ultimately defensible. (shrink)

Scholars have often thought that a monistic reading of Aristotle’s definition of the human good – in particular, one on which “best and most teleios virtue” refers to theoretical wisdom – cannot follow from the premises of the ergon argument. I explain how a monistic reading can follow from the premises, and I argue that this interpretation gives the correct rationale for Aristotle’s definition. I then explain that even though the best and most teleios virtue must be a (...) single virtue, that virtue could in principle be a whole virtue that arises from the combination of all the others. I also clarify that the definition of the human good aims at capturing the nature of human eudaimonia only in its primary case. (shrink)

In Nicomachean Ethics 1. 7, Aristotle gives a definition of the human good, and he does so by means of the “ ergon argument.” I clear the way for a new interpretation of this argument by arguing that Aristotle does not think that the ergon of something is always the proper activity of that thing. Though he has a single concept of an ergon, Aristotle identifies the ergon of an X as an activity in some cases but (...) a product in others, depending on the sort of thing the X is—for while the ergon of the eye is seeing, the ergon of a sculptor is a sculpture. This alternative interpretation of Aristotle’s concept of an ergon allows the key explanatory middle term of the ergon argument to be what, I argue, it ought to be: “the best achievement of a human.”. (shrink)

Although the commentary on Aristotle’s problematic discussion of slavery is vast, his discussion of nobility receives little attention. The fragments of his dialogue On Noble Birth constitute his most extensive examination of nobility, and while their similarity to the παμβασιλεύς of the Politics has recently been recognized, their relevance to natural slavery has hitherto gone unnoticed. Yet by declaring that true nobles – particularly the god-like ἀρχηγός – preternaturally possess superhuman characteristics, Aristotle precludes their easy inclusion in the (...) kind “human” in a manner inversely mirroring the preternatural subhumanity of natural slaves. Building on recent scholarship which argues that Aristotle’s “defense” of natural slaves is better understood as an indictment, On Noble Birth becomes most coherent if read as a hypothetical investigation into what would be required for “nobility” to name something true rather than equivocal, with the conclusion that “true nobility” is an empty set. (shrink)

I argue that these inconsistencies in wording and practice reflect the existence of two distinct Aristotelian views of inquiry, one peculiar to the Posterior Analytics and the other put forward in the Physics and practiced in the Physics and in other treatises. Although the two views overlap to some degree (e.g. both regard a rudimentary understanding of the subject as an essential first stage), the view of the syllogism as the workhorse of scientific investigation and the related view of inquiry (...) as a search for the ‘missing middle terms’ turn out to be ideas peculiar to the Analytics. Conversely, the techniques of analysis and differentiation highlighted in the Physics account receive only cursory attention in the Analytics. However, when we consider the character of Aristotle’s own inquiries, on both scientific and philosophical topics, it becomes clear that it is the Physics rather than the Posterior Analytics that gives us Aristotle’s considered view the path to knowledge. (shrink)

We can clarify a certain difficulty with regard to the phrase ‘the best and most perfect virtue’ in Aristotle’s definition of the human good in Nicomachean Ethics I 7 if we make use of two related distinctions: Donnellan’s attributive–referential distinction and Kripke’s distinction between speaker’s reference and semantic reference. I suggest that Aristotle is using the phrase ‘the best and most perfect virtue’ attributively, not referentially, and further that even though the phrase may refer to a specific virtue (...) (semantic reference), Aristotle is not using the phrase to refer to a specific virtue (speaker’s reference). (shrink)

In his Posterior Analytics Aristotle confronted a problem that threatened his vision of scientific knowledge as an axiomatic system: if scientific knowledge is demonstrative in character, and if the axioms of a science cannot themselves be demonstrated, then the most basic of all scientific principles will remain unknown. In the famous concluding chapter of this work (II 19), he claimed to solve this problem by distinguishing two kinds of knowledge: we cannot have epistêmê of the first principles, but we (...) can have nous of them. This ‘solution’ has struck many students of his thought as hopelessly ad hoc and unpersuasive. And nowhere is Aristotle less persuasive than when he appeals to a faculty of intuition or a priori insight which arrives on the scene precisely when it is most needed. I defend Aristotle’s account by showing how nous is not properly characterized as a faculty of intuition which operates independently of sense experience. Rather, nous is a kind of knowledge that is available to us whenever our mind advances from the perception of particular individuals to grasp the relevant universal concept or general principle. (shrink)

This paper addresses the cultural impact of genomics and the Human Genome Project on human self-understanding. Notably, it addresses the claim made by Francis Collins that the genome is the language of God and the claim made by Max Delbrück that Aristotle must be credited with having predicted DNA as the soul that organises bio-matter. From a continental philosophical perspective I will argue that human existence results from a dialectical interaction between two types of texts: the language of molecular (...) biology and the language of civilisation; the language of the genome and the language of our socio-cultural, symbolic ambiance. Whereas the former ultimately builds on the alphabets of genes and nucleotides, the latter is informed by primordial texts such as the Bible and the Quran. In applied bioethics deliberations on genomics, science is easily framed as liberating and progressive, religious world-views as conservative an... (shrink)

A POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY OF CONSERVATISM, PRUDENCE, MODERATION AND TRADITION, by Ferenc Hörcher. London and New York: Bloomsbury Academic. 2020. vi + 210pp. Hardback: $103.50; Paperback: $35.96. ISBN: 978-1-350-06718-9. Reviewed by H.G. Callaway, Department of Philosophy, Temple University. Email: HG1Callaway (at) gmail (.) com Ferenc Hörcher is Head of the Research Institute of Politics and Government of the National University of Public Service, Hungary. His new book, A POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY OF CONSERVATISM, appears in the Bloomsbury Studies in the Aristotelian Tradition. Hörcher (...) aims to understand, elucidate and develop political conservatism in the long Aristotelian-Stoic tradition, emphasizes the role of character formation for statesmanship and political actors, the constraints implied by specific cultural traditions and the details of factual context, and addresses the contemporary standing and revival of Aristotelian virtue ethics and the specifically political virtue of prudence or “practical wisdom.” The book comes recommended by Harvard University historian James Hankins, who, on the back cover, recommends it for readers “disturbed by the collapse of statesmanship in the contemporary world.” . (shrink)

In Posterior Analytics II 19 Aristotle likens the way in which sense perception gives rise to knowledge of the universal to the way in which one soldier’s ceasing his flight from the enemy leads other soldiers to do the same ‘heôs epi archên êlthen.’ Although the remark seems intended to characterize knowledge as the end result of an accumulative process, the concluding reference to ‘a starting point’ or archê has no clear meaning. I argue that the phrase can be (...) plausibly understood in light of Aristotle’s explanation of how a single calm thought can spread calm to other thoughts (Problems 917a29-33) and a single cloud can serve as a starting point (archê) for a revival of stormy weather (Problems 941a9-13). In addition, Aristotle elsewhere (e.g. Generation of Animals 788a13-16) speaks of the archê as the person or thing which initiates a process. Thus, when one soldier’s stopping causes another soldier to stop, this process can continue ‘until they come to the one who initiated the process.’ . (shrink)

We have good reason to believe that Nicomachean Ethics VI. 2 is a Nicomachean revision of an originally Eudemian text. Aristotle seems to have inserted lines 1139a31-b11 by means of a marginal note, which the first editor then mistakenly added in the wrong place, and I propose that we move these lines so that they follow the word κοινωνεῖν at 1139a20. The suggested note appears to be Nicomachean for several reasons but most importantly because it contains a desire-based account (...) of the practical intellect as teleologically oriented to action. The NE articulates consequences of this account regarding practical philosophy’s methodology and teleological orientation to action. The EE does not articulate such consequences, and instead seems to assume an object-based account of the practical intellect. Consequently, it would seem that, between the EE and the NE, Aristotle revised his conception of the practical intellect and consequently his conception of practical philosophy. (shrink)

Is there a place in scientific inquiry for guessing? Jonathan Cohen has recently argued that resorting to guesswork entails a loss of objectivity and regard for evidence which are essential to proper scientific investigation. I assess the merits of Cohen’s view first by taking as a test case Aristotle’s positive view of the role of guesswork (anchinoia) and conjecture (eustochia) in the search for the connections essential to the construction of scientific demonstrations. I then argue contra Cohen that one (...) can usefully employ guesswork while also employing reason; that it is possible to guess either intelligently or mindlessly; and consequently, that the use of guesswork need not represent a diminution in respect for the objectivity essential to scientific investigation. Although I would not claim that guesswork has a role to play in all scientific inquiry, there appear to be some datable instances of the useful and respectable scientific guess. (shrink)

Shihab al-Din al-Suhrawardi was born around 1154, probably in northwestern Iran. Spurred by a dream in which Aristotle appeared to him, he rejected the Avicennan Peripatetic philosophy of his youth and undertook the task of reviving the philosophical tradition of the "Ancients." Suhruwardi's philosophy grants an epistemological role to immediate and atemporal intuition. It is explicitly anti-Peripatetic and is identified with the pre-Aristotelian sages, particularly Plato. The subject of his hikmat al-Ishraq --now available for the first time in English--is (...) the "science of lights," a science that Suhrawardi first learned through mystical exercises reinforced later by logical proofs and confirmed by what he saw as the parallel experiences of the Ancients. It was completed on 15 September 1186 and at sunset that evening, in the western sky, the sun, the moon, and the five visible planets came together in a magnificent conjunction in the constellation of Libra. The stars soon turned against Suhrawardi, however, who was reluctantly put to death by the son of Saladin, the sultan of Egypt, in 1191. (shrink)

In De partibus animalium A1, Aristotle presents —in a darker than usual way— decisive details of the methodology he devised for his science of nature. His indications seem to point the path along which Aristotelian biology should travel. However, numerous textual and systematic difficulties have given rise to a number of conflicting interpretations, in the context of a vigorous stream of philosophical research and debate since the last third of the last century. In this stream of studies, Michael of (...) Ephesus’s commentary on PA and his views on the subject remain relatively ignored. A complex multiplicity of factors seems to support the lack of sufficient consensus among leading contemporary specialists to explicitly consider those contributions. The purpose of this paper is to examine several of these factors and, based on the evidence provided by little explored aspects of Michael’s texts, to offer arguments in favor of that consensus against a number of alternatives. I shall argue that the contributions of this late commentator deserve to be considered —mutatis mutandis— as seriously as it is done with the main ancient Greek commentaries; in particular, in the philosophical studies of those who are currently interested in that methodology or are engaged in Aristotelian biology. (shrink)

The recent trend among many philosophers of religion has been to interpret divine eternity as an everlasting temporality in which an omnitemporal God exists in and throughout the whole of time. This is in contrast to the classical account of divine eternity as atemporal, immutable existence. In this paper, Aquinas' use of Boethius's definition of eternity as “the whole, perfect, and simultaneous possession of endless life” is analyzed and explained in contradistinction to Aristotle's definition of time. This analysis is (...) then used to respond to Nicholas Wolterstroff's argument in "God Everlasting" that God's knowledge of temporal events infects God with temporality and mutability. The argument concludes by introducing an important distinction between absolute simultaneity and temporal simultaneity, which allows us to hold God is omniscient because he is absolutely simultaneous with all events but is not temporally simultaneous with any event. (shrink)

In this essay I argue that the central problem of Aristotle’s Metaphysics H (VIII) 6 is the unity of forms and that he solves this problem in just the way he solves the problem of the unity of composites – by hylomorphism. I also discuss the matter– form relationship in H 6, arguing that they have a correlative nature as the matter of the form and the form of the matter.

In this review, we describe some of the central philosophical issues facing origins-of-life research and provide a targeted history of the developments that have led to the multidisciplinary field of origins-of-life studies. We outline these issues and developments to guide researchers and students from all fields. With respect to philosophy, we provide brief summaries of debates with respect to (1) definitions (or theories) of life, what life is and how research should be conducted in the absence of an accepted theory (...) of life, (2) the distinctions between synthetic, historical, and universal projects in origins-of-life studies, issues with strategies for inferring the origins of life, such as (3) the nature of the first living entities (the “bottom up” approach) and (4) how to infer the nature of the last universal common ancestor (the “top down” approach), and (5) the status of origins of life as a science. Each of these debates influences the others. Although there are clusters of researchers that agree on some answers to these issues, each of these debates is still open. With respect to history, we outline several independent paths that have led to some of the approaches now prevalent in origins-of-life studies. These include one path from early views of life through the scientific revolutions brought about by Linnaeus (von Linn.), Wöhler, Miller, and others. In this approach, new theories, tools, and evidence guide new thoughts about the nature of life and its origin.We also describe another family of paths motivated by a” circularity” approach to life, which is guided by such thinkers as Maturana & Varela, Gánti, Rosen, and others. These views echo ideas developed by Kant and Aristotle, though they do so using modern science in ways that produce exciting avenues of investigation. By exploring the history of these ideas, we can see how many of the issues that currently interest us have been guided by the contexts in which the ideas were developed. The disciplinary backgrounds of each of these scholars has influenced the questions they sought to answer, the experiments they envisioned, and the kinds of data they collected. We conclude by encouraging scientists and scholars in the humanities and social sciences to explore ways in which they can interact to provide a deeper understanding of the conceptual assumptions, structure, and history of origins-of-life research. This may be useful to help frame future research agendas and bring awareness to the multifaceted issues facing this challenging scientific question. (shrink)

Aristotle’s points about taking ‘more or less’ (μᾶλλον καὶ ἧττον) are as following: 1. Substances do not admit of the more and the less. This is supposed to mean that a man is not more a man either than itself or than another man. This is not, however, the case between different substances because one substance can be more a substance than another. (Cat., 5, 3, 3b33-4a2) In Metaphysics, Aristotle tells us that substance in the sense of form (...) does not admit of the more and the less ‘but if any substance does, it is only the substance which involves matter.’ (Met., H, 1044a9-11) 2. Quantities, including numbers, do not admit of a more and a less. (Cat., 6, 6a19-25; Met., H, 1044a9-10) 3. Some qualities, but not all of them, admit the more and the less. For example, one thing can be called paler or more beautiful than another. This is not, however, true about the shape: neither things that admit nor those that do not admit the definition of a shape, e.g. triangle or circle, is called more a triangle or a circle. (Cat., 11a5-) Moreover, a thing can admit of more or less of a quantity than itself in a different time. (Cat., 5, 4a3-9) 4. Some, but not all, relatives admit of a more and a less. For example, while a thing is called more or less similar or more or less unequal to another thing, what is double is not spoken more double or less double. (Cat., 7, 6b20-27) 5. Doing and being affected admit of a more and a less. It is possible, for example, to heat more or to be heated more or less. (Cat., 9, 11b1-7) 6. Aristotle speaks of the possibility of being more false or less false. (Met., Γ) . (shrink)

Aristotle differentiates between otherness (ἑτερότης) and difference (διαφορὰ). Otherness has no definite respect: one thing is other than another thing only because they are not the same. Every two things which are not the same are other than each other. Therefore, two things other than each other do not need something in which they are other than each other. Difference, on the other hand, has a definite respect and one thing is different from another thing in some respect. Thus, (...) there must be something identical whereby two different things differ. (Met. , I, 1054b23-27) Therefore, there is no difference between anything and the things outside its genus. (Met., I, 1055a26-27) 1) Difference Aristotle takes two things as identical things in which difference occurs: genus and species. All things that differ differ either in genus or in species. (Met., I, 1054b27-28) a) Difference in genus Two things are different in genus if they ‘have not their matter in common and are not generated out of each other,’ which means that they belong to different figures of predication. (Met., I, 1054b28-29) They have no way to one another and are too far distinct and are not comparable. (Met., I, 1055a6-8) b) Difference in species Two things are different in species if they have the same genus (Met., I, 1054b29-30) but are not subordinate one to the other. (Met., Δ, 1018a38-b7) 2) Contrariety Aristotle mentions five senses. In the first sense he calls contraries ‘those attributes that differ in genus, which cannot belong at the same time to the same subject.’ (Met., Δ, 1018a25-27) Three senses emphasize on having the most difference either in the same genus, the same receptive material or the same category, all similar to genus. The fifth sense also insists on having the greatest difference but mentions species besides genus as where difference occurs. (Met., Δ, 1018a27-31) It seems that Aristotle is more inclined to the second sense as his definition in Metaphysics, I, 1055a27-29 might concede: ‘The things in the same genus which differ most are contraries; for the complete difference is the greatest difference among these,’ though he agrees with the third sense too and regards those that differ most in the same receptive material also as contraries. (Met., I, 1055a29-30) In fact, Aristotle speaks of all kinds of contraries within, without or in genera: ‘All contraries must either be in the same genus or in contrary genera or be themselves genera.’ Their corresponding examples are white and black (in the same genus), justice and injustice (in contrary genera) and good and bad (themselves genera). (Cat., 11, 14a19-25) To speak generally, as one of the four kinds of opposition, contraries are those that cannot belong at the same time to the same thing. (Met., Γ, 1011b15-18) Thus, contrariety (ἐναντιότης) is complete difference (Met., I, 1055a16-17) and contraries are the extremes of things that differ in species for which generation takes place and have the greatest distance. (Met., I, 1055a8-10; Δ, 1018a38-b7) Since contraries have the extreme difference, there cannot be more than one contrary and extreme for each thing. (Met., I, 1055a19-21) Thus, the things in the same genus which differ most are contraries. (Met., I, 1055a27-28) Aristotle says that the meaning of calling two things ‘other in species’ is that they are contrary and this being other in species he posits versus being the same in species. (Met., I, 1058a17-28) Aristotle even calls ‘the difference between things which differ in species’ a difference that belongs only to things in the same species. (Met., I, 1058a26-28) The reason is that ‘all things are divided by opposites and … contraries are in the same genus … and every difference in species is a difference from something in something … Hence also all contraries which are different in species … are … other than one another in the highest degree- for the difference is complete-, and cannot be present along with one another.’ The conclusion is that ‘The difference, then, is a contrariety.’ (Met, I, 1058a8-16) There are some characteristics for contraries in Aristotle’s philosophy: a) One thing cannot have more than one contrary for there can be neither anything more extreme than the extreme, nor more than two extremes for the one interval. (Met., I, 1055a19-21) b) The primary contrariety is the contrariety between state and complete privation. (Met., I, 1055a33-37) Aristotle regards privation both as a kind of contradiction (Met., I, 1055b3-11) and as that of which contrariety is a kind: all contrariety is a privation but not all privation is contrariety. (Met., I, 1055b11-17) In fact, every contrariety involves a privation as one of its items (Met, I, 1055b17-19 and b25-29): ‘of the contraries, no less than of the contradictories, one is a privation- and a privation of substance; and privation is the denial of a predicate to a determinate genus.’ (Met., Γ, 1011b18-20) Nonetheless, the relation between contrary, privation and contradictory seems to be even more complex:’For within a single identical genus the contrary of a given attribute is either its privative or its contradictory; e.g. within number what is not odd is even, inasmuch as within this sphere even is a necessary consequent of not-odd.’ (PsA., A, 4, 73b21-24) c) A contrary cannot be an intermediate because otherwise it would not be a perfect contrary, which must be based on definition. (Met., I, 1056a12-14) d) Contraries always accept intermediates between themselves. (Met., I, 1056a14-15 e) ‘Contraries do not involve one another in their composition, and are therefore first principles.’ (Met., I, 1057b22-23) f) ‘All the inferior classes, both the contraries and their intermediates, will be compounded out of the primary contraries.’ (Met., I, 1057b31-34) g) None of the intermediables can be predicated of either of the contraries. (Met., K, 1063b19-22) h) Contrary propositions (as defined in OI, I, 7, 17b3-6) can never both be true because they state contrary conditions which cannot subsist at one and the same time in the same subject. (OI, II, 14, 24b7-) 3) Otherness in kind Aristotle also speaks of things other in kind (ἓτερα τῷ γένει) by which he means an otherness between things ‘whose ultimate substratum is other and one cannot be analysed to the other nor both into the same thing. His example of this otherness in kind is the otherness of form and matter. (Met., Δ, 1024b9-12) 4) Network of difference and wholism Aristotle speaks of a theory based on which the knowledge of each thing depends on the knowledge of its differentiae distinguishing it from every single other thing. Therefore, to know and define one thing we need to know the whole existence. (PsA., B, 13, 97a6-11) Aristotle rejects this theory based on the fact that ‘not every differentia precludes identity’ and, thus, many differentiae inhere in things specifically identical, though not in the substance of these nor essentially.’ (PsA., B, 13, 97a11-14) 5) Knowledge and difference There must be some kind of relation between knowledge and difference in Aristotle’s saying that sight, more than other senses, makes us know and bring in light many differences between things. (Met., A, 980a24-27) . (shrink)

Aristotle’s points about sameness or identity are as follows: 1. Aristotle speaks of different senses of same (ταὐτόν) in some of his works but it seems that the most comprehensive division is found in Topics (I, 7, 103a7-25) where he mentions three kinds of sameness: numerically, specifically and generically besides a fourth kind he calls ‘in view of unity of species.’ The numerically sameness on which there is the greatest agreement (To. , I, 7, ^103a25) and is the (...) strictest sense of sameness (To., H, 1, 151b26-27) occurs when there is more than one name but only one thing. Specific sameness occurs when while there is more than one thing, they present no differences in respect of their species. Likewise, generic sameness occurs when there is more than one thing but they fall under the same genus. Aristotle also speaks of a sameness ‘in view of unity of species’ like the sameness of water from the same spring. We discussed this under the name of ‘family resemblance.’ In Metaphysics (I, 1054a32-b2) he also speaks of a sameness ‘both in formula and in number as well as a sameness in the formula of the primary substance. We also observe Aristotle distinguishing sameness from likeness because the former occurs in substance while the latter in quality. (Met., Δ, 1021a11-12) There are several other senses of sameness in book Δ of Metaphysics. One sense is accidental sameness in which two things are called the same either because they are accidents of the same thing or because one is the accident of the other. (Met., Δ, 1017b27-29) In another sense, a complex notion is considered as the same of either of the simple notions. (Met., Δ, 1017b30-33) He also speaks of a general rule of being the same: ‘Things are said to be the same by their own nature in as many ways as they are said to be one’ like being one in matter or substance. (Met., Δ, 1018a4-7) 2. ‘We know things in so far as they have the same unity and identity and in so far as some attribute belongs to them universally (ᾗ καθόλου τι ὑπάρχει).’ (Met., B, 999a28-29) 3. Herman Weidemann believes that in Met., Z, 11 (1037a33-b7) only primary substances are considered to be identical with what it is for each of them to be. This, however, is not the same as primary substance in Categories but is rather meant to cover the individualized substantial form of each thing (τὸ εἶδος τὸ ἐνον), like the soul of a man (1037a28-29). Therefore, ‘if we take substance which is ‘primary’ in this sense and ‘say just what it is,’ we must indeed be producing a statement of identity. … To say of a man that he is essentially an animal of such and such a kind is not to mean, however, that the man in question is identical with what he is said to be essentially.’ Thus, while an essential predication in which the subject is the primary substance of Metaphysics Z (i.e. substantial form) and the predicate just what it is, is ‘genuine statement of identity,’ the predication in which the subject is primary in the sense of the Categories and the predicate its secondary substance, is a predicative statement in a strict sense. (shrink)

It seems that there is a general principle in Aristotle’s philosophy that ‘all things are referred to that which is primary (πὰντα πρὸς τὸ πρῶτον ἀναφέρεται).’ (Met., Γ, 1004a25-26) This referring relation, however, may be in a different way for each thing: ‘After distinguishing the various senses of each, we must then explain by reference to what is primary in each term, saying how they are related to it; some in the sense that they possess it, others in the (...) sense that they produce it…’ (Met., Γ, 1004a28-31) This general principle is asserted about: a) One: ‘All things which are one are referred to the primary one.’ (Met., Γ, 1004a26-27; 1005a6-7) As Aristotle always makes ‘one’ and ‘being’ close to each other subject of the same rules and attributes, he makes the subject of referring interchangeable as well: ‘It makes no difference whether that which is be referred to being or to unity. For even if they are not the same but different, they are convertible.’ (Met., K, 1061a15-18) b) The same. (Met., Γ, 1004a27) c) The contraries. (Met., Γ, 1004a28) d) Being, healthy and medical: It is a crucial thesis of Aristotle’s Metaphysics that being (τὸ ὄν) is said in referring to a primary being, that is substance. And to do this, he repeatedly takes ‘healthy’ and ‘medical’ as examples: ‘There are many ways in which a thing is said ‘being’ but they are referred to some one and unitary nature (πρὸς ἓν καὶ μίαν τινὰ φύσιν) but not homonymously. Everything which is healthy is related to health, one thing in the sense that it preserves health, another in the sense that it produces it, another in the sense that it is a symptom of health, another because it is capable of it. And that which is medical is relative to the medical art, one thing in the sense that it possesses it, another in the sense that it is naturally adopted to it, another in the sense that it is a function of medical art. So, too, there are many senses in which a thing is said to be, but all refer to one starting point; some things are said to be because they are substances, others because they are affections of substances, others because they are a process towards substances, or destructions or privations …’ (Met., Γ, 1003a33-b10; cf. K, 1060b36-1061a6; Z, 1030b2-3) Thus, all of the categories refer to the primary being, i.e. substance because ‘it is in virtue of the formation of substance that the others are said to be quantity and quality and the like; for all will be found to contain the formula of substance.’ (Met., Θ, 1045b27-30) Also, Aristotle speaks of becoming of all things referring to one common: ‘Everything that is may become referring to some one common nature.’ (Met., K, 1061a10-11) e) Contraries: all contraries refer to the primary differences and contraries: ‘Since everything that is may become referring to some one common nature, each of the contraries also may become referring to primary differences and contraries of being, whether the first differences of being are plurality any unity or likeness and unlikeness, or some other differences.’ (Met., K, 1061a10-15; cf Met., K, 1061b11-15; Met., Γ, 1005a6-8) f) Potentialities: ‘All potentialities that conform to the same type are starting points, and are called potentialities in reference to one primary kind. (Met., Θ, 1046a9-14) g) Soul and body refer to the same thing. (Met., H, 1043a35-37) 1) Referral unity versus universal unity Aristotle distinguishes referral (πρὸς ἓν) unity from the unity that is found in universal, which is the same in all of its instances: ‘If being or unity is not a universal and the same in every instance … the unity is in some cases that of referring to one (πρὸς ἓν), in some cases that of serial succession.’ (Met., Γ, 1005a8-11) Thus, we can say that the unity present in pros hen must be distinguished from the unity that is found in the instances of a universal: while in all of these instances the universal is the same, in those that are one by referring to the one, there is nothing which is the same in all. Aristotle says this also by using ‘based on one’ (καθ᾽ ἓν) and common: while in one the instances are one ‘based on one’ thing, they are one in the other by referring to one: ‘For not only in the case of things that are said based on one there is knowledge investigating one subject, but also in case of things that are said referring to one nature.’ Nonetheless, Aristotle thinks that ‘referring to one’ unity is somehow kind of ‘based on one’ unity: ‘For even that [i.e. being said ‘referring to one’] is a kind of being said based on one.’ (Met., Γ, 1003b12-15) In Nicomachean Ethics (1096b23-9) Aristotle opposes being derived from one thing to referring to one thing: ‘In what sense are different things called good? … Is it because they are all derivative of a single thing (ἀφ’ ἑνος εἶναι), or [i.e. equivalently] because they are all derived towards a single thing (πρὸς ἓν συντελεῖν) …? (See: EEt., H2, 1236a15-23) . (shrink)

The concept of universal in Aristotle’s philosophy has several aspects. 1) Universal and plurality Aristotle posits universal (καθόλου) versus particular (καθ᾿ ἕκαστον) each covering a range of elements: some elements are universal while others are particulars. Aristotle defines universal as ‘that which by nature is predicated (κατηγορεῖσθαι) of many subjects’ and particular as ‘that which is not’ so. (OI ., I, 7, 17a38-b1) The plurality of possible subjects of universal is what Aristotle insists on. The inclusion (...) of the notion of ‘plurality’ in the definition of universal might make us expect to have ‘singularity’ in the definition of particular. So, when Aristotle says that universal is that which is naturally predicable of many subjects, we expect him to define the particular as ‘that which is predicable of one subject only.’ Nonetheless, Aristotle does not and indeed cannot define it this way. We cannot find a text in which he defines particular as such simply because particulars are not predicable of any subject unless we regard their predication of themselves a predication, which Aristotle does not, at least in a genuine sense. Thus, he defines a particular only negatively. Hence, the capability of predication of a plurality is indeed the capability of predication itself because the particular cannot be predicated of anything. A particular is that which cannot be predicated of anything (or: of anything else, if saying of a thing of itself is to be considered as predication). It is ‘numerically one’ and what of which the universal is predicated (Met., B, 999b34-1000a1). Those that cannot be predicated of anything, or particulars, are of two kinds: primary substances and individual accidents. Besides Categories we can hardly find a text where Aristotle discusses individual accidents maybe because they are of much less importance for him compared with substances. However, substances are what he mentions repeatedly so that we can confine particulars to substances. In fact, it is substance that Aristotle considers so repeatedly as what cannot be predicated. As the main particulars and individuals, substances are posited as the main things that are not universal. The closeness of the two concepts of ‘substance’ and ‘unpredicability’ is to the extent that he ignores individual accidents and makes these concepts equal and as the opposite of universal: ‘what is not predicated of a subject is said a substance (οὐσία λέγετα τὸ μὴ καθ᾿ ὑποκειμένου) but what is always said of some subject is called a universal.’ (Met., Z, 1038b15-16. cf. Met., B, 1003a7-9) Therefore, since particulars cannot be predicated of any subject and, thus, every predication is necessarily a predication of a plurality of subjects, the inclusion of ‘plurality’ in the definition of universal is either i) in the sense of ‘representation’ or it must be regarded as ii) an unnecessary addition mentioned just for clarification or iii) only for avoiding cases where something is predicated of itself. By the first we mean this: though a substance is not said of anything, it represents some one thing and there is some one thing that is that substance. A universal, on the other hand, can represent a plurality of things. There is, however, a third possibility that has no essential difference with the sense of representation. Aristotle might have ‘arbitrary predication’ in mind when he suses ‘plurality’ in the definition of universal: while a particular can be the arbitrary predicate of just one thing, a universal can be predicated, both really and arbitrarily, of many things. Whatever Aristotle’s intention was, what is important for our investigation is this: Aristotle uses the notion of plurality in the definition of universal in spite of the fact that it is not necessary. What this implies is that this notion is so important for Aristotle that albeit every predictability is a predictability of a possible plurality, he adds the notion of plurality. What makes this notion important, I believe, is that he has something like a class in mind when he defines a universal because the notion of plurality is indistinguishable from a class. 2) Universal and whole; particular and part In Aristotle, the concepts of universal and whole are so close: ‘That which is true of a whole class and is said to hold good as a whole (which implies that it is a kind of whole) is true of a whole in the sense that it contains many things by being predicated of each, and that each and all of them, e.g. man, horse, god, are one because all are living things (τὸ μὲν γὰρ καθόλου καὶ τὸ ὃλως λεγόμενον ὡς πολλὰ περιέχον τῷ κατηγορεῖσθαι καθ’ ἑκάστου καὶ ἓν ἃπαντα εἶναι ὡς ἑκαστον, ...). Phil Corkum points to Aristotle’s distinction between quantitative and integral wholes in Met., 5, 26, 1023b26-33 where a quantitative whole is called homoiomerous, as the sum of animal while an integral whole, e.g. a house, is called heteromerous. He links the notion of homoiomerous to the notion of indivisibility of individuals (in 1b6-9 and 3b10-18) and indivisibility of universals. He believes that in PrA., I, 4, 25b32-26a2 it is the transitivity of mereological containment that is discussed. 3) Universal is common between instances Universal is common (κοινόν) between all the plurality of subjects it can be predicated of because what belongs to more than one thing must be common between them. (Met., Z, 1038b10-12) In the Same way, what is common cannot be a particular and, thus, a substance. (Met., Z, 1040b23-24) An individual or substance is a ‘this’ and a ‘this’ cannot be what common indicates simply because it is here in ‘this’ and can be nowhere else while common must be common between several things. In fact, what can be indicated by a common is indeed a ‘such.’ (Met., B, 1003a7-9) 4) Universal is the same in its instances We have a universal i) in all of its instances and ii) in the same way (ταὐτὸ ἐπὶ πὰντων). (Met, Γ, 1005a9-10) While the first point is evident (otherwise how could it be their universal?), the second point might seem not only ambiguous but the cause of many problems. For Aristotle, therefore, a universal must be ‘one’ in number and not many. This numerically one universal is the very universal for all its instances. It is the same universal that is predicated on each of its instances. This sameness is not, however, a mere homonymous sameness or the sameness of a homonymous word. All these three points, namely oneness, sameness and rejection of mere homonymous sameness are asserted in Aristotle’s own words τι ἕν καὶ τὸ αὐτὸ ἐπὶ πλειόνων μη ὁμώνυμον. (PsA., A, 11, 77a8-9) This non-homonymous unity is asserted also in PsA., A, 24, 85b15-16. 5) Universal as predicate Contrary to substance that cannot be a predicate, universal is what cannot be prevented from being in the place of predicate. Therefore, Aristotle distinguishes universal from subject because while the latter must necessarily be capable of being a predicate, though it might take the position of subject as well, the latter does not necessarily have such a capability especially when it is a this because it cannot be a predicate in such a case: ‘For the subject and universal differ in being or not being a ‘this’; like man and body and soul are the subject of accidents while the accident is something like musical or white.’ (Met., Θ, 1049a27-30) This indicates that a universal is basically different from subject and although it can be posited in the place of subject, it is the position of predicate that is its position as a universal. In Metaphysics, Z, 13, Aristotle asserts that ‘no universal can be substance.’ The same is asserted in Met., I, 1053b16-17 cf. 1060b21. As James H. Lesher points out, Aristotle’s position is that ‘nothing predicated universally is a substance.’ 6) Universal in substance In Met., 10388b8-9 Aristotle says that no universal is a substance. While a universal cannot be a substance in the way essence (to ti en einai) is, it is, Aristotle asserts, ‘in’ it (ἐν τούτῳ δὲ ἐνυπάρχειν) (Met., Ζ, 1038b16-18). Aristotle’s examples are: animal in man and horse. A universal is ‘in’ the thing it is its universal. But in what sense a universal can be in a thing? It cannot be in it as ‘in a subject’, which is denied in Categories for secondary substances. If we check the senses of being in, we can find some other senses of ‘being in’ some of which are compatible with this sense of ‘being in.’ Michael J. Loux believes that contrary to his earlier works like Peri Ideaon and Organon in which the immanence of universals signals a reproduction of the platonic two worlds picture, in his later works like Physics and Metaphysics, when Aristotle tells us that universals are in particulars he means that they are ‘components of or ingredients in sensible particulars.’ In Metaphysics (Δ, 1014b3-9) Aristotle compares elements with universals and call them ‘the most universal things because elements are present either in all or in many things. 7) Logos is of universal Not only universals have logos (Met., Z, 1038b18-19) but ‘Every logos and every science is of universals and not of particulars.’ (Met., K, 1059b25-26) The reason is that they are the same: the logos of the unjiversal ‘circle’ is nothing but ‘being circle’ and the logos of the universal ‘soul’ is ‘being soul.’ (Met., Z, 1035b33-1036a2) The same is said about definition. (Met, Z, 1036a27-29) 8) Universal: in the soul Contrasting individuals, universals are in the soul (So., 3, 5, 417b22-23; cf. PsA., B, 19, 100a6-7). Aristotle also says that the form, i.e. the essence, of the artwork is in the soul. (met., Z, 1032a32-b2) Moreover, as Michael J. Loux points out, ‘the Peri Ideon tells us that we need universals to serve as the objects of noetic acts.’ 9) Universal: not beside individual In spite of the fact that demonstration creates the opinion that demonstrating is based on the existence of universals as existing among the existing things, they do not have existence besides individuals (PsA., A, 24, 85a31-35; Met, Λ, 1071a19-23). Aristotle believes that universals of a P-series (B203, 71) are not παρὰ τὰ εἴδη: 999a6ff. Also check De Anima, II, 3, 414b20-25 10) Primary or commensurate universal Aristotle distinguishes ‘πρῶτον καθόλού’ (PsA., B, 17, 99a33-35) literally meaning ‘primary universal’ but mostly, and truly, translated as commensurate universal. While a universal merely ‘μὴ ἀντιςτρέφει,’ a primary universal ‘ᾧ ἓκαςτον μὲν μὴ ἀντιςτρέφει’ (PsA., B, 17, 99a33-35). Aristotle mentions three conditions for a commensurate universal. It is an attribute that i) belongs to every instance of its subject (without exception!!!), and this belonging is ii) essentially and iii) qua that subject itself (ᾗ αύτό). (PsA., A, 4, 73b26-28) However, he insists that the second and the third conditions are indeed the same. (PsA., A, 4, 73b28-30) The first condition he paraphrases as ‘to belong to any random instance of that subject’ and the second and the third as ‘when the subject is the first thing to which it can be shown to belong.’ (PsA., A, 4, 73b32-74a3) Aristotle’s example is ‘the equality of its angles to two right angles’. This attribute is not a commensurate universal of figure due to the first condition: it cannot be demonstrated of any figure. Nonetheless, though it can be demonstrated of every isosceles because every isosceles has angles equal to two right angles, it is not a commensurate universal of isosceles due to the other conditions: it is not predicated of isosceles qua isosceles but qua triangle. These conditions seem to be like regulators: they organize everything to match to the right group. The method of finding commensurate universal is like test and error method based on elimination: you must eliminate each of the higher or lower universals and check if the attribute remains or not. The commensurate universal is that which remains in between eliminated universals. (cf. PsA., A, 5, 74a37-b4) Brad Inwoodpresents an understanding of commensurate universal that is different from what I have understood and, thus, must be checked: ‘These universals are propositions in which, for example, ‘all A are B’ is true and which are still true universal statements if converted: ‘all B are A’ is also true.’ -/- . (shrink)

Predication is a lingual relation. We have this relation when a term is said (λέγεται) of another term. This simple definition, however, is not Aristotle’s own definition. In fact, he does not define predication but attaches his almost in a new field used word κατηγορεῖσθαι to λέγεται. In a predication, something is said of another thing, or, more simply, we have ‘something of something’ (ἓν καθ᾿ ἑνὸς). (PsA. , A, 22, 83b17-18) Therefore, a relation in which two terms are (...) posited to each other in a way that one is said (predicated) of the other is a predication. The term of which the other term is said is called a subject (ὑποκειμένον) and the other, which is said about the subject, is called the predicate. Thus, in a predication the predicate is predicated of the subject; given that being predicated is almost as the same as being said. The relation between being said and being predicated is so close that ‘if something is said of a subject both its name and its definition are necessarily predicated of the subject.’ (Cat., 5, 2a19-26) This, however, is true only about the second genera and not the accidents. a) Nature of relation in predication What is Aristotle’s theory about the nature of the relation in a predication? How does he fundamentally understand this relation? Phil Corkum distinguishes between predication logic and traditional term logic and argues that the relation between subject and predicate in Aristotle is of the latter kind. While in predicate logic, subjects and predicates have distinct roles, they have the same role in traditional term logic. In predication logic, subjects refer, but predicates characterize. Thereupon, a sentence expresses a truth if the object to which the subject refers is correctly characterized by the predicate. In traditional term logic, both subjects and predicates refer and a sentences expresses a truth if both name one and the same thing. He concludes that Aristotle ‘problematically conflates prediction and identity claims’ because while he thinks both subjects and predicates refer, he would deny that a sentence is true just in case the subject and the predicate name one and the same thing. Based on this, Corkum believes that Aristotle’s core semantic is not identity but the weaker relation of constitution, which is a mereological interpretation: ‘All men are mortal’ is true just in case the mereological sum of humans is part of the mereological sum of mortals. b) Aristotle’s theory of predication: one or two theories? Frank Lewis finds an inconsistent gap between the theory of predication in the Categories and that in the later books of the Metaphysics VII, 6. So too Joan Kung, Terry Irwin, Daniel Graham. c) Distinction of ‘being said of’ and ‘being in’ Owen enumerates the texts in which Aristotle’s distinction between ‘being said of’ and ‘being in’ is asserted: OI. 11b38-12a17; To., 127b1-4; Cat. 1a20-b9; 2a11-14; 2a27-b6; 2b15-17; 3a7-32; 9b22-24 d) Predication in Aristotle and the standard ‘S is P’ Marie De Rijk Lambertus thinks that the ‘S is P’ pattern is misleading when it comes to express predication in Aristotle. In his view, ‘The Aristotelian procedure should be described in terms of appositively assigning an attribute (κατηγορούμενον) to a substrate (ὑποκείμενον), rather than ascribing a predicate to a subject by means of a copula…. The comment should be considered an attribute which is said to fall to a substrate, without understanding this procedure in terms of sentence predication.’ e) Aristotle’s predication: bipartite or tripartite? It is a difficulty to make Aristotle’s theories of name-verb predication and tripartite predication consistent. The reason is that tripartite is not consistant with his name-verb structure based on which he says that the predicate term is the ‘verb.’ (20a31; 20b1-2; 16a13-5) The problem is that in a tripartite form like ‘Socrates is white’ we cannot take ‘is white’ as the verb because, based on Aristotle himself, no part of a verb can be significant itself. (16b6-7) However, his assertions about the equivalences between the two structures (OI. 12, 21b9-10; PrA. 51b13-16; Met., 1017b22-30) must mean that they are not inconsistent in his own view. Thus, as Allen Bāck points, ‘Aristotle seems to think that he has a single, consistent theory.’ The sense of saying or speaking as the root sense of rhema makes the relation between predication (saying something of something) and verb more interesting. The use of rhema in the sense of a long expression approves this. In Plato’s work (399ac) where Socrates claims that the name anthropos derives from anthron ha opopen (‘he who examines what he has seen’) we have an onoma from, or in place of, a rhema. 1) Subject The subject (ὑποκειμένον) is that of which another term is said or predicated. Aristotle’s own definition is of a much more philosophical value: ‘By subject I mean that which is expressed by an affirmative term (λέγω δὲ ὑποκείμενον τὸ κάταφάσει δηλούμενον).’ (Met., K, 1067b18) Throughout Aristotle’s work, three kinds of subjects can be found: possible, prime and absolute subject. a) Possible subject Those things that can take the position of a subject in a predication we call possible subjects, no matter they can or cannot take the position of predicate in any predication. All terms except the ultimate predicates are possible subjects because they can take the position of subject. b) Prime subject Those that in any predication can only take the position of a subject and not the position of a predicate are prime subjects. (Cat., 5, 3a36-b2; Met., Z, 1028b36-1029a1) This is the truest sense of subject and belongs only to substances. (Met., Z, 1029a1-2) In fact, ‘that which is not predicated of a subject, but of which all else is predicated’ is a substance. (Met., Z, 1029a7-9) In Categories, besides primary substances (Cat., 2, 1b3-6), individual qualities are also said not to be able to be said of anything else. (Cat., 2, 1a23-29) Aristotle’s examples are a certain ‘knowledge-of-grammar’ (τὶς γράμματικὴ) and ‘an individual white’ (τὸ τὶ λευκὸν). Thus, although substances are indeed in the truest sense individuals and, thereby, in the truest sense primary subjects, other individuals can take the position of subject as well. c) Absolute subject While substances are prime subjects of all other things, there is still something of which substances can be predicated and this predication is not an accidental predication: matter. (Met., Z, 1029a21-24) This predication is, indeed, the predication of a ‘form or this’ on matter and material substance. (Met., Θ, 1049a34-36) The only thing that is absolutely a subject, therefore, and can be a predicate is prime matter (πρώτη ὓλη). (Met., Θ, 1049a24-27) d) Subject and substance The most important thing in being a substance is being a subject: ‘It is because the primary substances are subjects for all the other things and all the other things are predicated of them or are in them, that they are called substances most of all.’ (Cat., 5, 2b15-17) And what is nearer to this position is more a substance as a species is more a substance than a genus.’ (Cat., 5, 2b7-8) e) Primary versus accidental subject A subject is a primary subject in a predication when the predicate is predicated of it as itself. In such a case, the subject is the subject of the predicate qua itself and not qua something else. A subject, on the one hand, is an accidental subject when it is not the primary subject of the predicate that is predicated on it. It means that a subject is an accidental subject when the predicate is predicated of it not qua itself but qua something else. An accidental subject is, therefore, anything other than a substance. 2) Predicate as universal It is evident from our discussion of kinds of subjects that except matter, primary substances (if we ignore both accidental predication and cases of absolute subjects) and other individuals, everything else can take the position of a predicate. Since primary substances are individuals, it results that everything except matter and individuals are capable to take the position of predicate. The immediate consequence of this is that the predicate must be a universal. When individuals cannot take the position of predicate, this position cannot be taken by any particular. Therefore, only universals can be predicated of others. Moreover, albeit universals can be a simple subject (for another universal), they are not prime subjects. The closeness of universal and predicate is to the extent that Aristotle differentiates universal from subject. (Met., Θ, 1049a27-30) 3) Categories or classes of predicates Aristotle distinguishes ten highest classes into one of which each predicate must necessarily fall: substance (or what a thing is), quality, quantity, relation, place, time, position, state, activity and passivity. (Cat., 4, 1b25-27; To., I, 9, 103b20- ; PsA., A, 22, 83b13-23) The substance counted among predicates must refer to secondary and not primary substances not only because Aristotle insists that primary substances cannot be predicated but also from his own examples of the category of substance: man and animal. (To., I, 9, 103b25) However, if a predicate be asserted of itself or its genus be asserted of it, the predicate signifies substance or what is; but if ‘one kind of predicate is asserted of another kind,’ it signifies one of the other nines. (To., I, 9, 103b30) These categories are so comprehensive that no predicate can remain outside them so that even non-being has as many senses as categories. (Met., M, 1089a26-30) a) That whether Aristotle’s categories are merely linguistic or fundamentally ontological is a so much controversial dispute. Some like G. E. R. Lloyd believe that ‘categories are primarily intended as a classification of reality … rather than of the signifying terms themselves.’ b) Although Aristotle’s categories have been historically regarded as a classification of predications, there are some recent commentators like Jonathan Barnes that think it is classifying predicates and not predications. 4) Kinds of predicates In his introduction of Categories, as J. W. Thorp truly points out , Aristotle distinguishes between the category of substance and the other categories using μὲν ... δὲ construction. This construction illustrates that beside tenfold classification of categories, there is an even more crucial differentiation between two kinds of predicates: substance or what is on the one hand and the other nine ones on the other hand: the distinction between what is predicated of the subject as what it is and what is predicated of it as an accident. Therefore, we have three kinds of classification - a twofold, a fourfold and a tenfold-complicatedly classifying the same thing, viz. the predicate. Predicates can be divided also to four kinds: property, definition, genus and accident. (To., I, 4, 101b11-20) A property is that predicate that is convertible with its subject and does not signify its essence. A definition is that predicate that is convertible with its subject and signifies its essence. It is a genus if it is not predicated convertibly and is contained in the definition of its subject. And it is an accident if it is neither convertible nor contained in the definition of its subject. (To., I, 8, ^103b3) All of these four kinds are among categories. (To., I, 9, 103b20) It seems that there might be some kind of relation between the twofold and the fourfold distinction: whereas genus and definition are predicated as what it is, accidents are not so predicated. There seems to be some rules that determine to each of these four kinds each predicate belongs. At To., IV, 123b30ff. Aristotle asserts: ‘If B has a contrary and A does not, then B does not belong to A as its genus.’ There is a dispute around per se accidents (τὰ καθ’ αὑτὰ συμβεβηκότα) (Topics., 102a18) whether they must be regarded as either of the four kinds or as a fifth kind. Barnes (1970) argued that they ‘do not fit at all neatly into the fourfold classification.’ He argues that based on the definition of accidents at A, 5, 102b4-5, they must be accidents but based on another definition, A, 5, 102b6-7, they cannot be accidents. He also defends the view that they are not properties. Barnes concludes: ‘This shows that the two definitions are not equivalent, and hence that the ‘predicables’ are not well-defined.’ Demetris J. Hadgopoulos defends the view that the two definitions of accidents are equivalent and per se accidents are properties. 5) Five types of predications We have five kinds of predications based on our division of subjects and our discussion of predicates: simple, primary (itself divided to substantial and accident), accidental (itself divided to primary and secondary), aoincidental and absolute predication. a) Simple predication. This is a predication in which a universal is predicated of either a particular or a universal subject. This sense of predication includes all other senses except the first kind of accidental predication. b) Primary predication. This is a predication in which a universal is predicated of a primary subject, namely a substance. A primary predication is of two kinds: i) Substantial predication. A primary predication in which the predicate is part of, or is included in, the definition of the subject. The universal that is the predicate here is the definition or the genus or the species or the diferentia of the subject. It is this predication that Aristotle calls a unity: ‘A statement may be called a unity … because it exhibits a single predicate as inhering not accidentally in a single subject.’ (PsA., B, 10, 93b35-37) It is only substantial predicates that can be predicated of each other: ‘Predicates which are not substantial are not predicated of one another.’ (PsA., A, 22, 83b18-19) Aristotle defines a substantial predication also in another way. A predication in which a higher genus is predicated on a lower genus, species, a substance or an individual, (or a species is predicated on an individual) is a substantial predication. Therefore, a substantial predication is a predication in a series that has individuals on one of its ends and a general category on its other end. In fact, only substantial predicates can be predicated of one another. (PsA., A, 22, 83b17-19) This series cannot be an infinite series because otherwise not only substances would not be definable but also a genus would be equal to one of its own species. (PsA., A, 22, 83b7-10) -/- ii) Accident predication. A primary predication in which the predicate is not part of, or is not included in, the definition of its subject. The universal that is the predicate here is the property or the accident of the subject. c) Accidental predication. This is a predication in which the subject is not a primary subject and its predicate is a substance. This predication is of two kinds: i) Primary accidental predication. This is a predication in which an accident is predicated of substance. Such a predication can go ad infinitum, which is inferable from Aristotle’s assertion that the secondary accidental predication cannot go ad infinitum. ii) Secondary accidental predication. It is a predication in which an accident is predicated of another accident. Such a predication, Aristotle asserts, cannot go ad infinitum because even more than two accidents cannot be combined. Now what is the meaning of Aristotle’s assertion that we cannot continue this ad infinitum? Does it mean that we cannot continue the predication ‘The musician is white’ and say ‘The white is Athenian?’ But why not? Or maybe he means that by adding any predication, we are still in a condition of predicating two accidents of a substance on each other. -/- As primary subjects, substances can also take the position of predicate though not essentially but accidentally. In propositions like ‘the white is a log’ or ‘That big thing is a log’ we observe substance taking the position of predicate but this is only accidentally: ‘When I affirm ‘the white is a log,’ I mean that something which happens to be white is a log- not that white is the subject in which log inheres (οὐχ ὡς τὸ ὑποκείμενον τῷ ξύλῳ τὸ λευκόν ἐστι), for it was not qua white or qua a species of white that the white (thing) came to be a log (οὔτε λευκὸν ὄν οὔθ᾿ ὃπερ λευκόν τι ἐγἐνετο ξύλον), and the white (thing) is consequently not a log except incidentally.’ (PsA., 22, 83a3-9) Aristotle compares this accidental use of substance in the position of predicate with the substantial use of it in the place of a subject: ‘On the other hand, when I affirm ‘the log is white,’ I do not mean that something else, which happens to be a log, is white (οὐχ ὃτι ἓτερόν τί ἐστι λευκόν, ἐκείνῳ δὲ συμβέβηκε ξύλῳ εἶναι), (as I should if I said ‘the musician is white,’ which would mean ‘The man who happens also to be a musician is white’); on the contrary, log is here the subject- the subject which actually came to be white, and did so qua wood or qua a species of wood and qua nothing else.’ (PsA., 22, 83a8-14) Aristotle asks us not to call propositions like ‘The white is a log’ a predication at all or at least call them accidental predication instead of simple (ἁπλως) predication. (PsA., A, 22, 83a14-17) An accidental predication, in which we have a substance in the place of predicate, is different from an essential predication in that while the subject of an accidental predication is said to be the predicate not by itself but as something different with which it coincides, the subject of an essential predicate is said to be the predicate by itself and not because it is something else: ‘Since there are attributes which are predicated of a subject essentially and not accidentally- not, that is, in the sense in which we say ‘That white (thing) is a man,’ which is not the same mode of predication as when we say ‘The man is white’: the man is white not because he is something else but because he is man, but the white is man because ‘being white’ coincides with ‘humanity’ within one subject. Therefore, there are terms such as are essentially subjects of predicates. (PsA., A, 19, 81a24-29) This capability of ‘non-essentially and only accidentally’ being a subject does belong, in fact, to all sensible things. (PsA., A, 27a32-36) d) Coincidental predication. this is a predication in which none of the subject and predicate are a substance or an individual. In this predication, one of the accidents of a substance or individual is predicated of one of the other accidentals of the same substance or individual. For example, when it is said that ‘The white is musical,’ there is an individual, say Socrates, for which both of white and musical are accidents. e) Absolute predication. This is a predication in which a form or a substance is predicated of a matter or a material substance. Some commentators like Loux and Lewis regarded this predication as close to accident predication, both based on inherence. As R.M. Dancy points out, these predications make Aristotle’s theory of predication immanentist: not only accident predications are explained by the immanence of accidents in substances, some of the substantial predications, which were not explained in Categories, are also explained by the immanence of form in matter. It is interesting that in this kind of predication, it is the predicate and not the subject, which is in the strictest sense substance. As the central books of Metaphysics claim, the form is the substance. Thus, in this predication, substance gets away from the sense of ὑποκείμενον. Corkum mentiones 68a19 as the only instance where Aristotle explicitly claims that a term may be predicated of itself, a passage that is, in Corkum’s view, problematic. 6) Demonstrable predicates Those predicates are demonstrable that are so related to their subjects that there are other predicates prior to them predicable of their subjects (ἔτι δ᾿ ἄλλος, εἰ ὧν πρότερα ἄττα κατηγορεῖται). (PsA., A, 22, 83b32-34) 7) Series of predications Since it is possible for a predicate to be itself the subject of another predication, we can have a series of predications in which the predicate of a predication is the subject of the next predication. This series has the following features: a) It has a limit (in number) (PsA., A, 22, 83b14-16) on the side of subjects: there are subjects that cannot themselves be predicated (PsA., A, 27, 43a39-41), which are, as we noted, prime subjects: particulars, i.e. prime substances and other individuals. (PsA., A, 19-22) Aristotle calls them ultimate (ὓστατον). (PsA., 21, 82a36-b1) b) It has a limit (in number of kinds) (PsA., A, 22, 83b14-16) also on the side of predicates: there must be predicates that cannot be subjects. (PsA., A, 19-22; PsA., A, 27, 43a36-39) Aristotle calls them primary (πρῶτον). (PsA., A, 21, 82b1-4) These are the highest categories or the highest genera of categories. (PsA., A, 22, 83b14-16) c) The series has an escalating shape from mere subjects at its downside to mere predicates at its upside. It is Aristotle himself whos uses the words up and down in this sense. (e.g. PsA., A, 22, 83b2-3) d) The predications that lie between lowest and highest ones must be finite in number. (PsA., A, 19-22 especially: 20, 82a21-35) These have subjects and predicates, each capable of both of the roles of being subject and being predicated. A result of this fitness is that neither demonstration can go to infinity nor everything is demonstrable, the two points Aristotle always insist on. e) The upward side includes the more universal ones and the downward the more particular ones. (PsA., 20, 82a21-23) f) It follows from the above features that ‘neither the ascending nor the descending series of predications … are infinite.’ (PsA., A, 22, 83b24-25) g) Reciprocation and convertibility. Except in case of terms (i.e. subjects and predicates) that are at each of the ends of series of predications, namely ultimates and primaries, it is possible to reciprocate (ἀντιστρέφειν) terms and convert the predication. (PsA., A, 19, 82a15-20) h) Antipredication. Antipredication means that in a predication (S is P), the subject becomes the predicate of its predicate (P is S) in the same category its predicate was predicated on it. For example, if P is in the category of quality, antipredication means that S be predicated of P in the category of quality. In other words, P is a quality of S and S is a quality of P. Aristotle rejects this. (PsA., A, 22, 83a36-b3) i) Self-predication versus other-predication. Aristotle distinguishes between a predication in which a term is said of itself and a predication in which a term is said of another. (Phy., Δ, 2, 209a31-33) j) Predicablity (Cat., 5, 3a36-b2): 1) Primary substances and individuals are not predicable. 2) Secondary substances are of two kinds: genus and species i) Genus is predicable able both of the species and of the individuals. ii) Species is predicable of the individual. 3) Differentiae are predicable both of the species and of the individuals. 8) Predication as classification a) Richard Patterson believes that Aristotle’s so repeated construction using hoper (estin A hoper B) in Topics (120a23 sq., 122b19, 26sq., 123a, 124a18, 125a29, 126a21, 128a35. Also in Posterior Analytics (83a24-30) (Brunschwig’s list. ‘expresses the fact that A is a kind of B (esti A B tis), that A is a species of the genus B.’ 9) Universal predication Aristotle defines universal predication (κατὰ παντὸς κατηγορεῖσθαι) as such: ‘wherever no instance of the subject (τῶν τοῦ ὑποκειμέμνου) can be found of which the other term cannot be asserted.’ (PrA., A, 24b27-29) In this predication, the subject is included in another as in a whole (ἐν ὃλῳ εἶναι) and the predicate is predicated of all of the subject (κατὰ παντὸς κατηγορεῖσθαι). (PrA., A, 24b26-27) Attach another discussion we had about ἐν ὃλῳ here. 10) Quantity of predication A predication, truly stated, has a quantity, which is the number of objects under the name of the subject of which the predicate is predicated. The quantity of subject can be stated in four ways: a. Indefinite: when the predicate belongs or does not belong to the subject without any mark to show to haw many of the particulars under the name of the subject it does or does not belong. E.g. ‘Man is white’; ‘Man is not white.’ (PrA., A, 24a20; OI., I, 7, 17b8-12) b. Universal quantity: When the predicate belongs to all or none of the subject. E.g. ‘Every man is animal’; ‘No man is animal.’ (PrA., A, 24a18-19; OI., I, 7, 17b5-6) The contrary of a predication of a universal quality is a predication of a universal quality. E.g. the contrary of ‘Every man is white’ is ‘No man is white.’ (OI., I, 7, 17b20-23) c. Particular quantity: When the predicate belongs (or does not belong) to some of the subject. E.g. ‘Some men are white’; ‘Some men are not white.’ (PrA., A, 24a19-20) d. Single quantity: when the subject is a proper name of only one object. E.g. ‘Socrates is white’; ‘Socrates is not white.’ The contrary of this predication is of a single quantity: ‘Socrates is not white.’ (OI., I, 7, 17b38-18a4) 11) Convertibility of predication. Some predications are convertible, that is, it is possible to change the place of subject and predicate in a true proposition so that the converted proposition remains true. This is supposed to mean that given the truth of a predication, the truth of the converted predication is inferable. The convert form of a predication depends on its quantity. a. Indefinite quantity: This predication has no strictly true convert because its quantity is not stated. b. Universal quantity: It can be converted in two ways: i) A negative universal can be converted to a negative universal in which the terms are changed. E.g. ‘No pleasure is good’ can be converted to ‘No good is pleasure.’ (PrA., A, 2, 25a5-8 and a14-19) ii) An affirmative universal can be converted to an affirmative particular in which the terms are changed. E.g. ‘Every pleasure is good’ can be converted to ‘Some good is pleasure.’ (PrA., A, 2, 25a7-9) c. Particular quantity: If it is negative, it cannot be converted but if it is affirmative, it can be converted to an affirmative predication with particular quantity. E.g. ‘Some pleasure is good’ can be converted to ‘Some good is pleasure.’ (PrA., A, 2, 25a10-13 and a20-24) d. Single quantity: It cannot be converted. 12) Characteristics of relations between subject and predicate 1. A predicate is of a wider range than its subject. It is based on this fact that Aristotle: a) Prevents individuals to be predicate because there is nothing of which an individual be of a wider range. In other words, it is due to the fact that since an individual is only ‘one particular’ thing and, thus, cannot be of a wider extent than anything that Aristotle prevents them of being a predicate. Matthews, however, thinks we cannot use Socrates, a substance and an individual, in the place of predicate and say it of Socrates because ‘Socrates does not classify Socrates: it names him.’ b) Prevents differentia, species and things under species to be predicated of genus. (To., Z, 6, 144a27-) c) Prevents the species and the things under it to be predicated of the differentia. (To., Z, 6, 144b1-4) d) Also about the effect because it is wider than its subject. (PsA., B, 17, 99a) e) Each attribute is wider than every individual it is predicated on, though several attributes, collectively considered, might not be wider but exactly the substance of a thing. (PsA., B, 13, 96a32-b1) 2. The predicate of a predicate of a subject will be predicated of the subject too: ‘whenever one thing is predicated of another as of a subject, all things said of what is predicated will be said of the subject too.’ (Cat., 3, 1b10-15) In fact, it is due to its predication of the subject that it is predicated of its predicate. (Cat., 5, 2a36-b1) Moreover, what is not predicated of the predicate of a subject cannot be predicated of it as well. (PrA., A, 27, 43b22-27) Thus, what, for example, is not predicated of animal, cannot be predicated of man. 3. The predicate of a subject can be predicated of its predicates as well. (Cat., 5, 3a1-6) For example, you call the individual man grammatical and, thence, you call both a man and an animal grammatical. Nonetheless, the predicate of a subject belongs to it more properly than to its higher predicates. (PrA., A, 27, 43a27-32) 4. It is only the subject that can be distributed and not the predicate. (PrA., A, 27, 43b16-22; OI, I, 7, 17b12-16) Therefore, we can say e.g. ‘Every man is animal’ but we cannot say ‘Every man is every animal.’ 5. It is the reason of the relation between subjects and predicates, that is the reason of predication, which is the subject of inquiry. (Met., Z, 1041a20-24) In other words, since it is a meaningless inquiry to ask why a thing is itself (Met., Z, 1041a14-15), the only remaining meaningful inquiry is to ask why something is something else, i.e. to ask about the reason of predication. 6. A subject cannot categorize its predicate in the same category in which it is categorized by it. If e.g. A is a quality of B, B cannot be a quality of A. Therefore, there is no reciprocation in the same category. (PsA., A, 22, 83a36-39) 13) Characteristics of series of predications 1. A series of secondary accidental predication cannot go ad infinitum for not even more than two terms can be comnbined. For an accident is not an accident of an accident, unless it be because both are accidents of the same subject. (Met., Γ, 1007b1-4) 2. Infinite series cannot be traversed in thought. (PsA., A, 22, 83b6-7) 3. The predications of genera on each other must be ended and cannot go to infinity because otherwise not only substances would not be definable but also a genus would be equal to one of its own species. (PsA., A, 22, 83b7-10) Therefore, a series of predication of genera on each other must be limited on both sides. There must be an upward limit in general categories as well as a downward limit in individual because they cannot be predicated of others. Whatever lies between these limits can both be predicated of others and others be predicated of them. (PrA., A, 27, 43a36-43) 4. The order of predicates matters: it makes a difference whether the series be ABC or BAC. (PsA., B, 13, 96b25-32) . (shrink)

Definition has the following features in Aristotle’s philosophy: 1. Each thing has only one definition and ‘it is impossible that there should be more than one definition for the same thing.’ (To., Z, 5, 142b^25; cf. To., Z, 4, 141a26) 2. Definition is ‘a formula of the essence’ (Met., H, 1042a17-18) and, thus, signifies the essence of the thing. (To., I, 5, ^101b30-) About the relation between definition and essence Aristotle regards three possibilities (PsA., B, 94a11-14): a) A (...) definition as an indemonstrable statement of essential nature. b) A definition as a syllogism of essential nature differing from demonstration in grammatical form. c) A definition as the conclusion of a demonstration giving essential nature. 3. ‘The definition is a formula and a formula has parts.’ (Met., H, 1042a18-20) Therefore, only the composite substances are definable and the primary parts of a composite substance are not definable. The reason is that ‘a definitory formula predicates something of something and one part of the definition must play the part of matter and the other that of form.’ (Met., H, 1043b28-32) Thus, definition is a sort of number: a divisible including indivisible parts. (Met., H, 1043b32-36) 4. To define a thing, one should give the species or the genera of the thing which are the only other things that can be substances of it and not its accidents. (Cat., 5, 2b31-36) Aristotle also brings differentiae into the definition: ‘There is nothing in the definition except the first-named genus and the differentiae. The other genera are the first genus and along with this the differentiae that are taken with, e.g. the first may be animal, the next animal which is footed, and again animal which is two-footed and featherless and …’ (Met., Z, 1037b28-33) Among genera the nearer genera are more informative because they are more distinctive and less general. (Cat., 5, 2b10-13 and b32-34) However, to give the species is always more informative and apt than giving the genus. (Cat., 5, 2b8-10) 5. Primary substances admit the definition of the species they are their individuals and of their genera. In the same way, species admit the definition of the genus. The reason is that everything said of the predicate can be said of the subject. (Cat., 5, 3b2-6) Therefore, everything admits the definition of its higher classes. 6. ‘Both the species and the individuals admit the definition of the differentia.’ (Cat., 5, 3b6-7) 7. A formula exhibiting the cause of a thing’s existence is a definition. (PsA., B, 10, 93b38-94a1) 8. It is possible to achieve the definition by division only if we keep three conditions in view (PsA., B, 97a23-26): a) The admission only of elements in the definable form. b) The arrangement of these elements in the right order c) The omission of no element in the definable form The process of division (PsA., B, 97a37-b6) is the process of dividing the genus by its differentia to the right species, the one that the subject accepts as its predicate, and again dividing the whole such searched by its right differentia to a predicable species. This process will be continued until we reach to that which is not further divisible, ‘i.e. that as soon as we have taken the last differentia to form the concrete totality, this totality admits of no division into species.’ In this way we achieve to a series of elements all in the definable forms without superfluous addition and without omission of any necessary element. This series includes the primary genus with all the differentia until it achieves to that which would admit of no division. The second condition, the right order, is the order in which that which is posited as primary be the one that is predicable of all of the other and not vice versa. The order must, then, be from more predicables to less predicables: ‘The right order will be achieved if the right term is assumed as primary, and this will be ensured if the term selected is predicable of all the other but not all they of it; since there must be one such term. Having assumed this, we at once proceed in the same way with the lower terms; for our second term will be the first of the remainder, our third the first of those which follow the second in a ‘contiguous’ series, since when the higher term is excluded, the term of the remainder which is ‘contiguous’ to it will be primary, and so on.’ (PsA., B, 97a26-34) 9. Things that are not the same must have different definitions. However, this does not mean that things that are the same must necessarily have the same definition. (To., I, 5, ^102a17-) 10. ‘Everything applicable to property and genus and accident will be applicable to definition as well.’ (To., I, 6, 102b27-) 11. ‘A name, e.g. ‘round’, means vaguely a sort of whole: its definition analyses this into its particular senses.’ Definition must be done through terms that are prior and more familiar and ‘anyone who has not defined a thing through terms that are prior and more familiar has not defined it at all.’ (To., Z, 4, 141a26-) It is indeed this very point that is the basis of definition by genus and differentiae: ‘A correct definition must define a thing through its genus and its differentiae, and these belong to the order of things which are without qualification more familiar than, and prior to, the species.’ (To., Z, 4, 141b^15-) This more familiarity, however, must be without qualification, i.e. not more familiar to certain people or in certain times. Otherwise, definition could not come always to be one and the same. (To., Z, 4, ^142a1-) . 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The following are the characteristics of a genus: 1. Those to which the same figure of predication applies are one in genus. (Met. , Δ, 1016b32-35) 2. Things that are one in genus are all one by analogy while things that are one by analogy are not all one in genus. (Met, Δ, 1016b35-1017a3) 3. A genus includes contraries. (Met., Δ, 1018a25-31) 4. All the intermediates are in the same genus as one another and as the things they stand between. (...) (Met., I, 1057a18-30; 1057b31-34) 5. Not every predicate is a genus of what it is predicated on; for this would equate a genus with one of its own species. (PsA., A, 22, 83b7-10) 6. The opposite of the genus should always be the genus of the opposite. (To., Δ, 4, ^125a27-29) 7. A genus divides the object from other things. (To., Z, 3, 140a^24) 8. None of unity and being is a genus. (Met., B, 998b22-27; Met., K, 1059b31-34; PsA., B, 7, 92b12-14) 9. There is no necessity or even no possibility that things that are the same specifically or generically should be numerically the same. (To., H, I, 152b30-) 10. To be called one due to having one genus is in a way similar to be one due to having the same matter. (Met., Δ, 1016a24-28) 11. The substance of a thing involves its genus, and thereby all the higher genera are predicated of the lower. (To., Z, 5, 143a^20- ) 12. Being falls immediately into genera. (Met., Γ, 1004a4-6) A. Characteristics of relations between genera The characteristics of relations between genera, the relations between genera and species excluded, are as follows: 1. Genus is not an element in the composition of things. (Met., I, 1057b20-22) 2. Things resulting from the same division of the same genus are simultaneous by nature. (Cat., 13, 15a3-4) 3. Processes of proof cannot pass from one genus to another. (PsA., A, 23, 84b14-18) 4. It is not necessary for subordinate genera to have different accounts. (To., I, 15, ^107a19-) E.g. when we say a raven is a bird, we also say it is a certain kind of animal. 5. It is necessary for genera that are not subordinate one to the other to have different accounts. (To., I, 15, ^107a27-30) E.g. whenever we call a thing an engine, we do not call it an animal, nor vice versa. 6. If one of the genera is predicated in what it is, all of them, both higher and lower than this one, if predicated at all of the species, will be predicated of it in what it is; so that what has been given as genus is also predicated in what it is. (To., Δ, 2, ^122a10) 7. The same object cannot occur in two genera of which neither contains the other. (To., Z, 139b32-140a2) 8. Those to which the same figure (σχῆμα) of predication applies, are the same in genus. (Met., Δ, 1016b32-35) 9. Attributes that inhere always in each several things can be divided to two groups: those that are wider in extent but not wider than its genus and those wider than its genus. (PsA., B, 13, 96a24-27) 10. The relation between A and B must be extendable in respect of all the genera of A. Thus, if A is double of B, it must also be in excess, the genus of double, to B. Aristotle accepts, however, that this may be objectable in some cases: while knowledge is called knowledge of an object of knowledge, it cannot be called a state and disposition (which is the genus of knowledge) of an object of knowledge. In fact, it is a state and disposition of the soul. (To., Δ, 4, 124b28-34) B. Characteristics of species The following are the characteristics of species: 1. Things are said to be other in species if they are of the same genus but are not subordinate the one to the other. (Met., Δ, 1018a38-b2; Met., I, 1057b35-37) 2. Contraries are other than one another in species. (Met., Δ, 1018b5-7; Met., I, 1058b26-) 3. It is not sufficient for a difference to be the basis of distinguishing species in a genus because it belongs to the genus in virtue of its nature as, e.g., the difference between men and women belongs to animal in virtue of its nature. It must also be a modification peculiar to the genus (οἰκεῖα πάθη τοῦ γένους) in the strongest sense. (Met., I, 1058a29-37) Thus, contraries which are in the formula (ἐν τῷ λόγῳ) make a difference in species, but those which are in the compound material thing do not make one as e.g. being male and female is a difference in matter. (Met., I, 1058a37-b23) 4. Some things are peculiar to the species as distinct from genus: there are attributes peculiar to each distinct species. (PrA., A, 27, 43b27-29) 5. There is no necessity or even no possibility that things that are the same specifically should be the same numerically. (To., H, I, 155b30-) C. Characteristics of relations between genera and species The following are the characteristics of relations between genera and their species: 1. Although species predicated of individuals seem to be principles rather than the genera, it is hard to say, Aristotle asserts, in what sense species are to be taken as principles. (Met., B, 999a14-21) 2. Things that are one in species are all one in genus, while things that are one in genus are not all one in species. (Met., Δ, 1016b35a1) 3. The relation of a species to its genus is like the relation of primary substance to all others: the species is a subject for the genus (ὑπόκειται γὰρ τὸ εἴδος τῷ γένει) and the genera are predicated of the species but the species are not predicated of them. (Cat., 5, 2b17-22) 4. Of the species themselves- those which are not genera- one is no more a substance than another: a certain horse is no more a substance than another horse. (Cat., 5, 2b22-26) 5. Genera are prior to species since they do not reciprocate as to implication of existence (κατὰ τὴν τοῦ εἶναι ἀκολούθησιν). For example, if there is a fish there is an animal, but if there is an animal there is not necessarily a fish. (Cat., 13, 15a4-7) 6. What belongs both to a species and to its genus, it belongs to the species more properly indeed than to the genus. (PrA., A, 27, 43b29-32) 7. A predicate drawn from the genus is never ascribed to the species in a derived form and as its genus. Thus, e.g. coloured cannot be a genus of ‘white’ when we say ‘white is coloured.’ (To., B, I, ^109b1-5) 8. Genera are predicated of their species synonymously because the species take on both the name and the account of their genera. (To., B, I, ^109b3-6) 9. All the attributes that belong to the species belong to the genus as well but there is no necessity that all the attributes that belong to the genus should belong also to the species. (To., B, 4, 111a20-32) 10. Those things of which the genus is predicated must also of necessity have one of its species predicated of them. (To., B, 4, 111a33-) 11. The higher genus should be predicated of the species in what it is. (To., Δ, 2, ^122a6) 12. The species, or any of the things which are under the species, is not predicated of the genus because the genus is the term with the widest range of all. (To., Z, 6, 144a27f.) 13. The same species cannot be in two genera neither of which contains the other. (To., Z, 6, 144b14f.) 14. None of the species of a genus is prior or posterior to other species but they are thought to be simultaneous by nature. (Cat., 13, 14b38-15a1) 15. Daniel W. Graham points that sometimes Aristotle speaks of species as classes (Cat., 5, 2a14-17) and sometimes as properties or a certain character (ποιόν τι) of substances, which is difficult to be distinguished from the category of quality. (Cat., 3b13-22) D. Characteristics of differentia 1. The last differentia will be the substance, the definition and the form of the thing. (Met., Z, 1038a18-28) 2. If we divide according to accidental qualities, there will be as many differentiae as there are processes of division. (Met., Z, 1038a25-28) 3. The differentia divides the object from any of the things contained in the same genus. (To., Z, 3, 140a24-) 4. A. C. Lloyd argues that Aristotle’s logic of classification contains a vicious circle because: ‘For a genus to be predicated unequivocally and essentially of a species the specific differentiae have to be ‘appropriate’; but in order to know whether a proposed differentia is appropriate we have to know whether the genus is predicable essentially of the species thus defined.’ The predication of differentia on primary substance seems to make difficulties in Aristotle’s system, as Terence Irwin points out. It seems to violate the distinction of strong predication and inherence, a distinction between predication of count-nouns and predication of characterizing adjectives. Irwin says that this violation is only apparent because although the differentia-term is an adjective, its gender agrees with the gender of the understood genus-term and not with that of the subject term. ‘Man is biped’ is indeed ‘Man is a biped animal.’ This shows, Irwin asserts, ‘why Aristotle can still mention that strong predication is nominal and inherence is adjectival.’ Differentiae are not, however, secondary substances, as Aristotle himself insists. A differentia does not say what the thing is, as secondary substances do, but only what it is like or what sort it is. (ποιον: To., 122b12-17; 128a20-29; 139a28-31; 142b25-29) Nonetheless, differentiae are not qualities because they are not inherent. Thus, they cannot be regarded in any of the ten categories. Irwin thinks that this anomaly is unnecessary because Aristotle could give good reasons for taking differentiae to be second substances. E. Characteristics of relations between differentia and genera or species 1. It is not possible for the genus to be predicated of the differentia taken apart from the species. (Met., B, 998b23-25; Met., K, 1059b31-33; To., VI, 6, 144a32-b1) 2. It is not possible for the species of the genus to be predicated of the proper differentiae of the genus. (Met., B, 998b24-26) 3. Where the differentia is present, the genus accompanies it, but where the genus is, the differentia is not always present. (Met., Δ, 1014b12-14) 4. The number of species are equal to the number of differentiae. (Met., Z, 1038a15-18) 5. The differentiae of genera which are different and not subordinate one to the other are themselves different in kind. (Cat., 3, 1b16-20; To., I, 15, ^107b19-) 6. There is nothing to prevent genera subordinate one to the other from having the same differentia. (Cat., 3, 1b20-22) 7. Since the higher genera are predicated of the genera below them, all differentiae of the predicated genus will be differentia of the subject also. (Cat., 3, 1b21-24) 8. The definition of the differentia is predicated of that of which the differentia is said. (Cat., 5, 3a25-28) 9. In giving what a thing is it is more fitting to state the genus than the differentia. For example, anyone who says that man is an animal shows what man is better than who describes him as terrestrial. (To., Δ, 6, ^128a24-27) 10. The differentia always signifies a quality of the genus, but the genus does not do this of the differentia. (To., Δ, 6, 128a27-29; To., Z, 6, 144a20-23) 11. A specific differentia, along with the genus, always makes a species. (To., Z, 6, 143b^1-) 12. A genus is always divided by the differentiae that are co-ordinate with it in a division and the differentiae that are co-ordinate in a division are all true of the genus. (To., Z, 6, 143b^1-) 13. Differentia cannot be predicated of the genus because genus is the term with the wider range. (To., Z, 6, 144a27-) In fact, genus is predicated, not of the differentia, but of the object of which the differentia is predicated. (To., Z, 6, 144a^31-b3) 14. Neither species nor the objects under it can be predicated of the differentia because the differentia is a term with a wider range than the species. (To., Z, 6, 144b4-) 15. The differentia is posterior to genus but prior to the species. (To., Z, 6, 144b^9-) 16. The same differentia cannot be used of two genera neither of which contains the other and if they do not both fall under the same genus. Otherwise, the same species will be in two genera neither of which contains the other, which is impossible. (To., Z, 6, 144b14-) 17. Genus and differentia are prior to and more familiar than the species: ‘For annul the genus and the differentia; and the species too is annulled, so that they are prior to the species. They are also more familiar; for if the species is known, the genus and differentia must of necessity be known as well (for anyone who knows what a man is knows also what animal and terrestrial are), whereas if the genus or the differentia is known it does not follow of necessity that the species is known as well; thus the species is less intelligible.’ (To., Z, 4, 141b15-) F. Characteristics of relations in series of classes 1. Mutually exclusive series. If no term in the series ACD… is predicable of any term in the series BEF…, and if G- a term in the former series- is the genus of A, clearly G will not be the genus of B; since, if it were, the series would not be mutually exclusive. (PsA., A, 15, 79b6-11) 2. Atomic disconnection of series. Of two mutually exclusive series ACD and BEF, if neither A nor B has a genus and A does not inhere in B, this disconnection must be atomic. (PsA., A, 15, 79b6-14) G. Characteristics of relations of individuals 1. No individual in a species is more substance than another individual in another species. (Cat., 5, 2b26-28) An individual man, for instance, is no more a substance than an individual ox. 2. Each attribute is wider than every individual it is predicated on, though several attributes, collectively considered, might not be wider but exactly the substance of a thing. (PsA., B, 13, 96a32-b1) 3. Not distinguishing between class membership and class inclusion? Some commentators like Vlastos and Ackrill (1963, 76) criticized Aristotle because he, they believe, did not distinguish between class membership (between species and particulars) and class inclusion (between genera and their species). Having accepted this point, Daniel W. Graham believes it is ‘question-begging in a curious way.’ Phil Corkum thinks that Aristotle employs mereological notions. (This criticism seems so strange because all the Aristotle’s point in distinguishing species 2 from genera is strictly the distinction of class membership and class inclusion as they call them so. (shrink)

Some forms of defining PNC in Aristotle’s works are as follows: a) Everything must be either affirmed or denied (φάναι ἢ ἀποφάναι). (Met., B, 996b28-29) or: it will not be possible to assert and deny the same thing truly at the same time. (Met., Γ, 1008a36-b1) In other words, ‘contradictory statements (ἀντικειμένας φάσεις) are not at the same time true. (Met., Γ, 1011b13-14) Also, ‘It is impossible that contradictories (ἀντίφασιν) should be at the same time true of the same (...) thing.’ (Met., Γ, 1011b15-16) Also, ‘Opposite statements (ἀντικειμένας φάσεις) can never be true of the same subjects.’ (Met., K, 1062a33-34; 1063b15-17) Also, ‘Of all affirmation or negation one is impossible. (PsA., A, 11, 77a22) b) A thing cannot at the same time be and not be. (Met., B, 996b30-31; Γ, 1006a3-5) This can also be extended to many other similar pairs of opposites: ‘The same thing cannot at the same time be and not be, or admit any other similar pair of opposites.’ (Met., K, 1061b34-1062a2) Also, ‘It will be possible for the same thing to be and not to be, except in virtue of an ambiguity.’ (Met., Γ, 1006b18-19) This is also asserted in another similar way: it is impossible that it should be at the same time true to say the same thing is a thing and is not a thing.’ (Met., Γ, 1006b33-34) c) ‘The same attribute cannot at the same time belong (ὑπάρχειν) and not belong to the same object in the same respect.’ (Met., Γ, 1005b19-21) d) Those positive and negative propositions are said to be contradictory which have the same subject and predicate. (OI, I, 7, 17a33-35) The opposition between an affirmation and a denial makes contradictories (ἀντίφασεως). (PsA., A, 2, 72a11-14) Based on Aristotle’s definition, ‘An affirmation is opposed to a denial in the sense which I denote by the term ‘contradictory’ (ἀντίφατικως), when, while the subject remains the same, the affirmation is of universal character and the denial is not.’ (OI., I, 7, 17b16-19) 1) Characteristics of PNC a) It is the most certain (Met., Γ, 1005b22-23 and b11) and the most indisputable (Met., Γ, 1006a5-6) of all principles. b) It is impossible: to believe its contrary (Met., Γ, 1005b24-30); to be really in that position (Met., Γ, 1008b11-13); and to defend it. (OI, I, 9, 18b17-19) Nonetheless, Aristotle thinks that many of the writers about nature assert the contrary of PNC and use a language opposite to it. (Met., Γ, 1005b35-1006a3) c) It is the starting point of all the other axioms. (Met., Γ, 1005b32-34) d) It is not hypothetical. (Met., Γ, 1005b13-17) e) Contradictories are extremely opposed to each other. (Met., Γ, 1007a1-4) f) Believing in PNC saves substance and essence and not believing in it makes all attributes accidents and there will be nothing as being essentially something. The reason is that something which essentially is a being cannot avoid being that thing. (Met., Γ, 1007a20-29 and b16-18) g) PNC supports plurality of things because otherwise all things will be one: ‘If all contradictories are true of the same subject at the same time, evidently all things will be one. For the same thing will be a trireme, a wall, and a man, if it is equally possible to affirm and deny anything of anything.’ (Met., Γ, 1007b18-22) In fact, PNC supports difference: ‘For if contradictories can be predicated alike of each subject, one thing will in no wise differ from another; for if it differs, this difference will be something true and peculiar to it.’ (Met., Γ, 1008a25-27) h) To accept truth and falsity, whether in an absolute sense (e.g. A is more true than B; or C is less true than D) entails PNC. (Met., Γ, 1008b2-7 and b31-35; 1009a2-5) In fact, PNC is entailed by accepting true affirmation. (Met., K, 1062b7-11) i) Judging and choosing between at least two things entails PNC: you cannot choose one as better than another without a previous judging that one is A and the other not A. (Met., Γ, 1008b18-24) The same is true about avoiding. (Met., Γ, 1008b24-29) j) PNC guarantees speaking and saying anything intelligible because otherwise e.g. saying ‘yes’ means both yes and no. (Met., Γ, 1008b7-13) k) Contradictories do not accept intermediates that means we must either affirm or deny a predicate on a subject and there is no third option. (Met., Γ, 1011b23-24; Met., I, 1055b1-2; PsA., A, 2, 72a11-14; Met., I, 1057a33-36) l) PNC is applicable also to the future time. (OI., I, 9, 19a28-29) m) PNC is presupposed by the least semantic of words. If we accept that each word has a meaning and, thus, signifies something definite, we cannot accept that it has the contradictory meaning and signies contradictory things and this approves PNC. Thus, Aristotle asks the opponent of PNC to say just one word, a significant word and takes this as the demonstration of PNC because by saying the word e.g. ‘man’ you have already signified man and not-man. (Met., Γ, 1005a11-13 and a18-22; 1006a28-31 and b13-15) Therefore, signification entails PNC: ‘He, then, who says this is and is not denies what he affirms, so that what the word signifies, he says it does not signify; and this is impossible. Therefore, if ‘This is’ signifies something, one cannot truly assert the contradictory.’ (Met., K, 1062a16-20) He says again: ‘If the word signifies something and this can be truly asserted of it, it necessarily is this; and it is not possible that that which is necessary should ever not be: it is not possible therefore to make the opposed assertions truly of the same subject.’ (Met., K, 1062a20-23; cf. Met., K, 1062a24-31) n) At Met., 4, 3, 1005b9-10 (check???) PNC is called as principle of things (ἀρχὰς τοῦ πράγματος). (quoted from B215, 517) . (shrink)

Jest to wybór z pracy Gadamera "Idea dobra..." Zawiera Przedmowę, Zakres problemu, Rozdział I (Sokratejska wiedza i niewiedza) oraz Posłowie tłumacza. This is the opening part of the Polish translation of Gadamers' The idea of the good... with the Translator's afterword.

Like (ὃμοιος) has the following functions in Aristotle’s philosophy: 1. We know from Aristotle that some thinkers believed that ‘like is known by like.’ (ἡ δέ γνῶσις τοῦ ὁμοίου τῷ ὁμοίῳ). (Met. , B, 1000b5-6 and So., A, 5, 410a27-29 about Empedocles; So., A, 2, 404b16-18 about Plato; So., A, 2, 405b12-16 and b26-28 about those who define the soul by its power of knowing) This, however, is a problematic theory in Aristotle’s point of view. One major (...) problem is that it is in contradiction with saying that like is not capable of being affected by like (though there are some who believe in this: So., B, 5, 416b35-36) simply because knowing and thinking are ways of being affected on their own views. (So., A, 5, 410a23-26) Another reason being that this theory entails that error must be a ‘contact with the unlike’ because it is the opposite of the knowing of like by like. (So., Γ, 3, 427a26-b5) Aristotle also mentions that some thinkers believe that like is fed by like, though there are some others who believe in its converse. (So., B, 4, 416a29-32) He also mentions a theory he assigns to ‘Antisthenes and other such uneducated people’ based on which it is not possible to say what a thing is (τί μέν ἐστι) and its definition but it is possible to say what a thing is like’ (ὃτι δ᾿ οἷον καττίτερος). (Met., H, 1043b23-28) 2. Aristotle posits likeness as distinguished from sameness: things are the same whose substance is one but those are like whose quality is one.’ (Met., Δ, 1021a11-12) Quality is the only basis of similarity and dissimilarity: ‘It is only based on one of the qualities that things are called similar and dissimilar (ὃμοια δὲ καὶ ἀνόμοια κατὰ μόνας τὰς ποιότητας λέγεται). A thing is not similar to another in virtue of anything but that in virtue of which it is qualified.’ (ὃμοιον γὰρ ἓτερον ἑτέρῳ οὐκ ἔστι κατ᾿ ἂλλο οὐδὲν ἢ καθ᾿ ὃ ποιόν ἐστιν) (Cat., 8, 11a15-18) Also, things that are not without difference in their compound substances and thus are not absolutely the same but are the same in their form, are called alike. (Met., I, 1054b3-7) 3. Family resemblance. Aristotle says that some kinds of sameness that are not one due to the sameness of species ought still to be ranked in the same class because they seem to be one family based on a certain likeness and resemblance. (To., I, 7, ^103a10-25) 4. Aristotle distinguishes between two kinds of likeness: a) Likeness between things belonging to different genera with such a formula: as one is to one thing, so is another to something else (e.g. knowledge to object of knowledge and perception to object of perception). (To., I, 17, 108a7-10) b) Likeness between things belonging to the same genus: they are alike in so far as they have any identical attribute. (To., I, 17, ^108a14-17) 5. The contrary of likeness and unlikeness seems to be at least an alternative for primary difference and contrariness. Aristotle asserts that all contraries refer to the primary differences and contraries: ‘Since everything that is may become referring to some one common nature, each of the contraries also may become referring to primary differences and contraries of being, whether the first differences of being are plurality any unity or likeness and unlikeness, or some other differences.’ (Met., K, 1061a10-15; cf Met., K, 1061b11-15; Met., Γ, 1005a6-8) . (shrink)

We have a basic definition of genus in Topics (I, 5, 102a31-35): ‘A genus is what is predicated in what a thing is of a number of things exhibiting differences in kind. We should treat as predicate in what a thing is all such things as it would be appropriate to mention in reply to the question “what is the object in question?”; as, for example, in the case of man, if asked that question, it is appropriate to say “He (...) is an animal.”’ He indicates that ‘of the common predicates that which is most definitely predicated in what the thing is, is likely to be the genus.’ (To. , I, 18, ^108b22) From this definition, what is demonstrative in the definition of genus, Aristotle asserts, is ‘what is common to all the cases.’ (To., I, 18, ^108b22) This common thing is ‘one identical thing which is predicated of both and is differentiated in no merely accidental way.’ (Met., I, 1057b37) This means that the things in which the genus is common must be essentially different. In fact, this very common genus must be essentially different in the things it is their genus. Therefore, things that are identical in a genus are at the same time different in that very genus. This means that though the genus is the same in them, it is indeed different in them and they are not the same as each other in that very same genus but specifically different from each other: ‘For not only must the common nature attach to the different things, e.g. not only must both be animals, but this very animal must also be different for each (e.g. in the one case horse, in the other man), and therefore this common nature is specifically different for the two things (διὰ τοῦτο τὸ κοινὸν ἓτερον ἀλλήλων ἐστι τῷ εἴδει). One then will be in virtue of its own nature one sort of animal, and the other another, e.g. one a horse and the other a man. This difference then must be an otherness of the genus. For I give the name of ‘difference in the genus’ to an otherness which makes the genus itself other.’ A. Characteristics of genera The following are the characteristics of genera: 1. Those to which the same figure of predication applies are one in genus. (Met. , Δ, 1016b32-35) 2. Things that are one in genus are all one by analogy while things that are one by analogy are not all one in genus. (Met, Δ, 1016b35-1017a3) 3. A genus includes contraries. (Met., Δ, 1018a25-31) 4. All the intermediates are in the same genus as one another and as the things they stand between. (Met., I, 1057a18-30; 1057b31-34) 5. Not every predicate is a genus of what it is predicated on; for this would equate a genus with one of its own species. (PsA., A, 22, 83b7-10) 6. The opposite of the genus should always be the genus of the opposite. (To., Δ, 4, ^125a27-29) 7. A genus divides the object from other things. (To., Z, 3, 140a^24) 8. None of unity and being is a genus. (Met., B, 998b22-27; Met., K, 1059b31-34; PsA., B, 7, 92b12-14) 9. There is no necessity or even no possibility that things that are the same specifically or generically should be numerically the same. (To., H, I, 152b30-) 10. To be called one due to having one genus is in a way similar to be one due to having the same matter. (Met., Δ, 1016a24-28) 11. The substance of a thing involves its genus, and thereby all the higher genera are predicated of the lower. (To., Z, 5, 143a^20- ) 12. Being falls immediately into genera. (Met., Γ, 1004a4-6) 13. They do not exist apart from the individuals. (Met., B, 999a29-32; Met., I, 1053b21-22) 14. A genus is not a simple qualification but marks off the qualification of substance. (Cat., 5, 3b18-21) 15. Genera are criteria of difference when ‘the things have not their matter in common and are not generated out of each other.’ (Met., I, 1054b27-31) 16. The genus of a thing is its matter (ὓλη). (Met., I, 1058a23-25) 17. A genus is applicable to a wider range than its species. (Cat., 5, 3b21-23) 18. A genus is prior to its species in existence: while a genus reciprocates on the existence of its species, they do not reciprocate on the existence of their genus. (Cat., 13, 15a3- ) Aristotle’s example is this: if there is a fish there is an animal, but if there is an animal, there is not necessarily a fish. 19. The genus of a thing expresses ‘what it is’ and its essence. (To., I, 5, 102a31- ; To., Z, 5, 143a^20- ) 20. A genus is most familiar than its differentia and may be them all. (To., Z, 9, 149a16) 21. The genus is more substantial than its species. (Met., H, 1042a13-16) 22. One, being and substance cannot be classes. (Met., I, 1053b21-24; cf. 1054a8-11) 23. Aristotle draws a distinction between a simple and a composite concept in their falling within a genus. While a simple one can, a composite one cannot. He discusses this between ‘justice’ and ‘just man’: ‘the former falls within the genus, whereas the other does not … for nothing which does not happen to belong to the genus is essentially the genus; e.g. a white man is not essentially a color.’ (To., Γ, 1, ^116a24) 1) Genus and universal ‘Genera are universals’ (Met., Λ, 1069a26-27; Δ, 1014b9-10) and more universal than differentia and species (Met., Δ, 1014b9-12), but it is evident that not all universals are genera. (Met., A, 992b10-13) 2) Co-ordinate species The species resulting from the same division are co-ordinate species. They are the results of the same division in the same genus. Thus, none of them is prior or posterior to others but they are simultaneous by nature. (Cat., 13, 14b33-15a3) 3) Priority of genus to species Aristotle defines prior (λοιπόν) based on reciprocation as to implication of existence: ‘Τhat from which the implication of existence does not hold reciprocally is thought to be prior.’ (Cat., 12, 14a32-34) His examples are genera and species: ‘genera are always prior to species since they do not reciprocate as to implication of existence.’ (Cat., 13, 15a4-6) Τhus, if there is a fish, there is an animal, but if there is an animal, there is not necessarily a fish. 4) Generic versus non-generic attributes As the above discussions illustrates, not all attributes can be genera of their subjects. Thus, we ought to distinguish between generic and non-generic attributes of each subject. K. J. Spalding distinguishes between substantive and classificatory attributes, a distinction that, he believes, is absent from the Aristotelian logic. Classificatory attributes are those that originate and exist in class alone, and are generic like ‘human’ and ‘animal.’ These attributes do not belong to the individual as individual. For example, animal belongs to the Socrates not as Socrates but as man. Substantive attributes, on the other hand, are those that belong to Socrates as Socrates and not as a class. Attributes like sense attributes that originate independently of generic structure and ‘do not involve a necessary relation to or dependence on a class’ are substantive attributes. (shrink)

The most important problem of modern political philosophy is the loss of politics’ independence from other spheres of human activity. Since the beginning of the last century, philosophers have sought to justify the uniqueness of political being and to update the modern politicalphilosophical vocabulary by redefining the categories of antiquity (e.g. τὸ ᾰ̓γᾰθόν, φῐλία, παρρησία, etc.). The article is devoted to the approach to the rehabilitation of the political sphere based on the political-philosophical experience of the ancient Greeks. The theoretical (...) basis of the study is H. Arendt’s solution of the issue of depoliticization in the context of her reminiscences of the ancient heritage. The author turns to the notion of civic friendship, which largely determines Arendt’s contribution to the discussions on the rehabilitation of politics and acts as a practice endowing the community with political potential. On the basis of Arendt’s interpretation of the political philosophy of Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, the author justifies the appeal to this notion and shows the connection of civic friendship with other categories of ancient thought (truth, opinion, Maieutics). The analysis reveals that the requirement borrowed from Socrates to eliminate truth from the sphere of human affairs puts Arendt’s philosophy in opposition to the tradition of political thought, and the use of political-philosophical categories to describe the human lifeworld allows us to consider it as a version of the hermeneutics of the subject. The author concludes that the justification of politics by means of ancient thought has an original anthropological dimension. It consists in the recognition of the significance of political action for the orientation of man in the world and the assertion of his identity in the community. (shrink)

Table of contents for MONSTERS AND PHILOSOPHY, edited by Charles T. Wolfe (London 2005) -/- List of Contributors iii Acknowledgments vii List of Abbreviations ix -/- Introduction xi Charles T. Wolfe The Riddle of the Sphinx: Aristotle, Penelope, and 1 Empedocles Johannes Fritsche Science as a Cure for Fear: The Status of Monsters in 21 Lucretius Morgan Meis Nature and its Monsters During the Renaissance: 37 Montaigne and Vanini Tristan Dagron Conjoined Twins and the Limits of our Reason 61 (...) Annie Bitbol-Hespériès Degeneration and Hybridism in the Early Modern Species 109 Debate: Towards the Philosophical Roots of the Creation-Evolution Controversy Justin E. H. Smith Leibniz on the Unicorn and Various other Curiosities 131 Roger Ariew The Creativity of God and the Order of Nature: 153 Anatomizing Monsters in the Early Eighteenth Century Anita Guerrini The Status of Anomalies in the Philosophy of Diderot 169 Annie Ibrahim The Materialist Denial of Monsters 187 Charles T. Wolfe Cerebral Assymetry, Monstrosities and Hegel. 205 On the Situation of the Life Sciences in 1800 Michael Hagner The Lady Knight of the Perilous Place 217 Elfriede Jelinek Monster: More than a Word. . . From Portent to Anomaly, 231 the Extraordinary Career of Monsters Beate Ochsner Index 281 . (shrink)

1983 I first argued in "Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie" for the origin of the term τὸ τί ἦν εἶναι in everyday language. This article did neither get much attention, nor did it have much of an impact. The term is still considered by most scholars to be artificial and hardly understandable. In 1996 H. Weidemann tried to destroy my arguments in an article of a book edited by Chr. Rapp . To do this he invented a hypothetical construction of (...) the possible genesis of the term, a construction which, I am afraid to say, does not have much to do with normal Greek. Here is my answer. (shrink)

Dan O’Brien gives an excellent analysis of testimonial knowledge transmission in his article ‘Communication Between Friends’ (2009) noting that the reliability of the speaker is a concern in both externalist and internalist theories of knowledge. O’Brien focuses on the belief states of Hearers (H) in cases where the reliability of the Speaker (S) is known via ‘intimate trust’, a special case pertaining to friendships with a track record of reliable or unreliable reports. This article considers the notion of ‘intimate trust’, (...) specifically in the context of online fan communities, in which the amount of time as a member of an online fan community and the extent of one’s posting history often results in something like ‘intimate trust’ between fans who are, for all other purposes, strangers. In the last two years, Twitter has provided a number of celebrities with a place to update fans and ‘tweet’ back and forth an innumerable number of times in any given day. This accentuates the intimacy to such a level that it becomes a ‘caricature of intimacy’ – the minute-to-minute updates accentuate the illusion that the fan ‘knows’ the celebrity, but the distance and mediation are still carefully maintained. This is an issue with both ethical and epistemological implications for fan-fan and fan-celebrity relationships online, considering ethics of care and ethics of justice, whether fans ‘owe’ celebrities a certain amount of distance and respect, and whether stars owe the fan something in return, either in the sense of reciprocal Kantian duties or Aristotelian moderation. (shrink)

1 Introduction1 In the 1980s, hermeneutics was often incorporated into deconstructionism and literary theory. Rather than focus on authorial intentions, the nature of writing itself including codes used to construct meaning, socio-economic contexts and inequalities of power,2 Gadamer introduced a different perspective; the interplay between effects of history on a reader’s understanding and the tradition(s) handed down in writing. This interplay in which a reader’s prejudices are called into question and modified by the text in a fusion of understanding and (...) topic revitalized the study of the printed word. Gadamer’s turn to language for understanding the meaning of Being also appealed to the post-modern antipathy toward modernity and metaphysics.3 If the truth and validity of interpretations are limited to communities of language, then our mode of being in history cannot but be historical. This point of view rendered Gadamer’s phenomenological hermeneutics vulnerable to the critique of moral and epistemological relativism. However, Gadamer’s theory of interpretation also stems from re-examination of the beginning of knowledge in the Pre-Socratics and Plato, and on this basis, is receptive to another dimension of inquiry than that which was trending in North America. -/- At the East-West Center, University of Hawai’i at Manoa in 1982, Chung-ying Cheng for the first time introduced onto-hermeneutics to an audience of esteemed philosophers including Li Zehou, Ren Jiyu, Feng Youlan, and Zhang Liwen.4 In contrast to schools of deconstruction and literary theory that had disengaged the interpreter from trans-historical sources of meaning and truth, Cheng explained that interpreters exist within a cosmological order inextricable from responsibility to harmonize Heaven and Earth in creative acts of interpretation. By integrating Chinese cosmology into hermeneutics through ontology, he tacitly challenged philosophers in the West to re-examine assumptions about humanity’s place in nature and by implication, Gadamer’s recovery of the beginnings of knowledge in Western philosophy. -/- Cheng’s Neo-Confucianism is inspired by the method and goals of Thomé H. Fang. The following words by Fang seem to prefigure, although in an indistinct and bundled way, aspects of Cheng’s philosophy including a Mencian theory of human nature, comprehensive observation, and creativity: “In the very process of living in concord with creative Nature, Man is charged with an ideal to be fully realized in the light of the principle of comprehensive harmony.”5 Like Fang, Cheng reinvigorates Chinese culture and language, but not solely in order to vindicate the insights of Neo-Confucianism. He has studied Western thought, from pragmatism and the analytic school to German idealism and phenomenology, to unlock and clarify philosophical concepts within the Yijing tradition and thereby render them intelligible to Anglophones. The result has been an awakening of Western scholars to the moral and cultural consequences of decoupling their thought from metaphysical foundations that are neither dogmatic nor doctrinal. -/- Not unlike the dialectic of Gadamer’s dialogue form, onto-generative hermeneutics integrates contrary positions on the same topic in order to blend both sides into a world philosophy, or as Cheng says, a “totalizing or integrative theory,”6 not to be confused with a theoretical rewording of a theory. On the contrary, the universal scope and relevance of hermeneutics stems from personal experience. Just as Gadamer, in response to faction and strife, immersed himself in Plato during the war years, and developed a method with which to harmonize opposites, so too, according to On-cho Ng, was Cheng moved by faction, strife and political persecution to develop a path toward unity.7 Gadamer taught at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario, and Cheng at the University of Hawai’i at Manoa among other institutions in North America. They facilitated trans-continental educational and cultural ties. Similar experiences yield similar insights irrespective of differences of time and place. Hence, authors in this issue who reside in Europe, China and North America, delineate the differences between Gadamer and Cheng, yet also, in light of Cheng’s onto-generative method and cosmology, develop integrative theories. Due to the page-budget restriction of the publisher, certain articles of this special theme will be subsequently published in the next issue. -/- 2 Integrative Theory This special issue of The Journal of Chinese Philosophy confirms a dimension of hermeneutics that Cheng has both motivated and inspired. The contributors do not abide by the conviction that since thought is mediated by language, interpretations cannot transcend culture. On the contrary, their research exemplifies the fruits of trans-historical onto-dialogical hermeneutics within limits defined by their field inquiry, organized into Parts I and II, around three themes: language, the philosophy of history and ethics. -/- Andrew Fuyarchuk introduces the theme of ontology in relation to Gadamer’s turn to language. Fuyarchuk argues that Chung-ying Cheng’s criticism of Gadamer’s hermeneutics is informed by Heidegger’s concept of Dasein and thereby overlooks how Gadamer’s Platonic-Pythagorean problem of the division between the One and Many is harmonized in the event of language, which in turn positions Gadamer in proximity to the presupposed grounds of receptivity in Cheng’s onto-generative hermeneutics. Lauren Pfister’s contributing article addresses the year 2000 meeting between Cheng and Gadamer in Heidelberg and expands the transhistorical grounds of meaning in Gadamer to matters of theology. Pfister’s summary of the written Chinese record of their conversation indicates that Cheng does not address the role of Christian philosophy and hence, the role of the inner word in Gadamer’s hermeneutics. This is important not only for detecting changes in Cheng’s philosophical development, but also for modifying his hermeneutics along the lines of a living conversation, possibilities explored by Pfister in a sequel to the article submitted to this issue. Nevertheless, by raising the issue of how Gadamer’s turn to language for understanding the meaning of Being extends possibilities in Cheng’s thought, Pfister anticipates the article by Katarina Gajdosova. She returns to the roots of Chinese thought during the Warring States period and broadens the meaning of names in recently excavated texts. Contrary to the conventions about how to understand terms, she appeals to both Heidegger’s ontology and Cheng’s notion of receptivity and creativity to reinterpret naming in relation to cosmology. Along the same lines, insofar as the event of Being is lingual, Jay Goulding captures its emergent structure in an evolving community of scholars and scholarship. He recalls his philosophical journey toward Cheng’s philosophy that begins in conversations with Gadamer at McMaster University in Hamilton, leads to Heidegger and Asian thought, expands into turning points with teachers and colleagues from various backgrounds that by increments contributed to Goulding’s formulation of “Daoist phenomenology.” -/- Although differing traditions guide their inquiries and research, Cheng and Gadamer recall the wisdom of the past to ameliorate the fragmentation in contemporary life. This leads them to re-examine the origins of philosophy; historical roots and thus sources of creative re-interpretations East and West whose affinities are developed in contributions by Hyun Höchsmann and Friederike Assandri. Höchsmann assesses convergences and divergences in the origins of Chinese and Western philosophy (Confucius and Socrates, the Yijing and Pre-Socratics) that culminates in pairing Gadamer’s understanding of paideia in the context of Plato’s political cosmology in the Timaeus with moral and social cultivation in The Western Inscription. She delineates the limits of this comparison which in turn justifies introducing Vattimo’s notion of locality. Assandri’s comparative analysis moves between India and China, Buddhism and Tang Daoism. Based on Gadamer’s argument that writing detaches concepts from their cultural moorings, she defines and applies three levels of understanding in onto-generative hermeneutics to Buddhist terms that were assimilated into the Benji Jing and in so doing clarifies essential dimensions of Daoism. -/- Contributions by Stephen Palmquist and Nicholas Brasovan position Cheng in relation to Kant and Gadamer by way of Aristotle’s ethics respectively. On the one hand, Palmquist plots Cheng’s evolving criticism of Kant’s moral philosophy and draws on crucial dimensions of Gadamer’s hermeneutics to reposition that criticism in a constructive relation to Kant’s emphasis on the philosophical conditions of morality while also indicating how religious dimensions of his thought answer Cheng’s concerns for lived moral action. For Palmquist, Gadamer enables a constructive criticism of Cheng. On the other hand, Brasovan compares Cheng’s Yijing-based account of moral deliberation with Gadamer’s Aristotelian-based ethics and reasons that in contrast to Cheng, Gadamer’s hermeneutical consciousness is disengaged from practical knowledge. For Brasovan, Cheng is a constructive critic of Gadamer. Palmquist and Brasovan’s divergent angles on Gadamer and Cheng map onto a dialectic of contrast and complementarity that constitutes the inner logic of Cheng’s philosophy. In other words, Gadamer and Cheng ought to be read alongside one another for the sake of removing discrepancies and contradictions, which constitutes the organic structure of their thinking. -/- 3 Our Mode of Being in History Is Not Historical The conversations between Cheng and Gadamer in this issue of The Journal of Chinese Philosophy pivot on language, philosophy of history and ethics within a comparative framework of analysis, but also explore the grounds that make the comparisons possible. Those grounds are informed by Chinese cosmology, and function to wrest Gadamer from the shadow of Heideggerian facticity and reposition him within the range of Cheng’s ideas about our place in nature that is embedded in his question about how mind emerges from inorganic matter.8 -/- For Gadamer scholars of Heidegger, human finitude, our ownmost individuating death ensures that hermeneutics is always open to the other as other, always on the way toward understanding the meaning of Being. To arrest the process in a concept of “the Absolute” cannot but represent someone’s point of view, and thereby render hermeneutics indistinguishable from ideology. However, insofar as finitude is defined by them in terms of an onto-theological concept of immorality, finitude is a metaphysical concept consistent with epistemologies and confuse beings with the meaning of Being. As a result, the celebrated political value of hermeneutics to always be on the way toward an understanding of the meaning of Being admits subtle variations on the same worldview that are insufficiently self-critical. -/- Gadamer scholars of Heidegger are right. A transformation in ethos and opening to the meaning of Being depends on awareness of finitude. Yet this awareness does not yield openness to more of the same, i.e., discourse structurally incapable of coming to unity but instead, for both Gadamer and Cheng, openness to a distinctly different ontological dimension of reality. As Sandra Wawrytko and So-Seong Park indicate,9 this ontological dimension is prefigured in the experience of being-as-a-whole or the totality of all possible relations in both Chinese totemic shamanistic rituals,10 and Greek Dionysian festivals.11 Through these religious experiences human ethos and therefore consciousness is expanded and elevated from being centered on one’s ownmost concerns toward an affinity with all sentient beings from insects and plants to animals. The channel for this affinity is an auditory disposition and hence, the emotions, compassion, and feeling response. -/- The capacity for an auditory disposition, or as Gadamer calls it, listening consciousness to respond to the inter-relationality and therefore inherent balance of nature is developed through music, song and dance of the religious rituals and festivals. They facilitate the unity of mind with nature. This use of music, that transforms ordinary consciousness, explains Cheng’s emphasis on the receptivity of feeling response in comprehensive observation, and Gadamer’s emphasis on openness to the other in attunement. However, an auditory disposition characteristic of pre-literate oral cultures that reveals the “All” need not rely on religion. As theorists about the evolution of language have explained,12 modern languages preserve their pre-historical past in music or prosody. That is to say, the song and dance that revealed the totality of inter-related beings to an ethos of comprehensive observation and attunement toward beings in classical civilizations is retained in the back-and-forth movement or rhythm of the dialogue form. Our mode of being in history is a mode of being in nature – through the music of language. -/- While alerting the reader to the limits of a nominalist interpretation, Gadamer expresses the inner law of the nature as follows: “in perishing there is always becoming, and in becoming there is always perishing.”13 Considered in process, opposites generate and blend into each other. This law of nature applies to everything.14 Hence, in a manner comparable to Pfister’s concluding insights, onto-dialogical hermeneutics is not only open to discrete events of otherness but moreover, to the moving structure of reality expressed, as Gajdosova suggests, in the existential moment of naming. Considered as interplay of tension and resolution with a life of its own, the dialectic of a dialogue is self-similar to the way in which an organism grows (by instinct). There is, therefore, a sense in which the art of interpretation extends the human mind into the eternal cycles of nature such that we participate in the articulation of the inner telos/homeostasis toward which all beings strive and importantly for Gadamer scholars of Heidegger, within the material limits of energy to which our embodied minds are self-evidently subject. In mortality there is always immortality. (shrink)

This book explores a key concept for human life: friendship. German and Spanish scholars approach friendship from different points of view, integrating philosophical and theological reflections as well as perspectives from other human sciences. In addition to researching biblical texts such as Ecclesiasticus and the Gospel of John, they present the ideas of Christian thinkers such as Alfred of Rieval, St. Thomas Aquinas, John H. Newman, Gilbert K. Chesterton, Edith Stein, Maritain and Benedict XVI. These contributions are read in continuity (...) with ancient philosophy, with particular reference to Aristotle's pages on friendship, which open up this human relationship to a wider context, even linking it to politics. (shrink)

An introduction to the special issue of the Journal “Forum Philosophicum” that contains nine studies dealing with a cluster of metaphysical questions of cross-cultural importance: H. Watzka, “A new realistic spirit: the analytical and the existential approaches to ontology”; P. Gilbert, “Voilà pourquoi je ne suis pas ‘ontologue’; P. Favraux, “La pertinence de l’ontologie pour la théologie”; E. Charmetant, "Naturalisme contemporain et ontologie humaine : vers un essentialisme différent"; J. Bremer, "Aristotle on touch”; T. Walsh, "Bonum est causa mali: (...) a problem and an opportunity for metaphysics in the thought of Thomas Aquinas and Hegel”; A. J. Carroll, “Disenchantment, rationality and the modernity of Max Weber”; G. Karuvelil, “Religious experience: reframing the question”; L. Caruana “Universal claims”. (shrink)

Mimesis can refer to imitation, emulation, representation, or reenactment - and it is a concept that links together many aspects of ancient Greek Culture. The Western Greek bell-krater on the cover, for example, is painted with a scene from a phlyax play with performers imitating mythical characters drawn from poetry, which also represent collective cultural beliefs and practices. One figure is shown playing a flute, the music from which might imitate nature, or represent deeper truths of the cosmos based upon (...) Pythagorean views (which were widespread in Western Greece at the time). The idea that mimesis should be restricted to ideals was made famous by Plato (whose connections to Pythagoreanism and Siracusa are well-known), and famously challenged by his student Aristotle (not to mention by the mimetic character of Plato’s own poetry). This volume gathers essays not only on the philosophical debate about mimesis, but also on its use in architecture, drama, poetry, history, music, ritual, and visual art. The emphasis is on examples from Hellenic cities in Southern Italy and Sicily, but the insights apply far beyond – even to modern times. Contributors include: Thomas Noble Howe, Francisco J. Gonzalez, Gene Fendt, Guilherme Domingues da Motta, Jeremy DeLong, Carolina Araújo, Marie-Élise Zovko, Lidia Palumbo, Sean Driscoll, Konstantinos Gkaleas, Anna Motta, Jure Zovko, Alexander H. Zistakis, Christos C. Evangeliou, Dorota Tymura, Iris Sulimani, Elliott Domagola, Jonah Radding, Giulia Corrente, Laura Tisi, Ewa Osek, Argyri G. Karanasiou, Rocío Manuela Cuadra Rubio, Jorge Tomás García, Aura Piccioni, and José Miguel Puebla Morón. (shrink)

● Sergio Cremaschi, The non-existing Island. I discuss the way in which the cleavage between the Continental and the Anglo-American philosophies originated, the (self-)images of both philosophical worlds, the converging rediscoveries from the Seventies, as well as recent ecumenic or anti-ecumenic strategies. I argue that pragmatism provides an important counter-instance to both the familiar self-images and to the fashionable ecumenic or anti-ecumenic strategies. My conclusions are: (i) the only place where Continental philosophy exists (as Euro-Communism one decade ago) is America; (...) (ii) less obviously, also analytic philosophy does not exist, or does no more exist as a current or a paradigm; what does exist is, on the one hand, philosophy of language and, on the other, philosophy of mind, that is, two disciplines; (iii) the dissolution of analytic philosophy as a school has been extremely fruitful, precisely in so far as it has left room for disciplines and research programmes; (iv) what is left, of the Anglo-American/Continental cleavage is primarily differences in styles, depending partly on intellectual traditions, partly owing to sociology, history, institutional frameworks; these differences should not be blurred by rash ecumenism; besides, theoretical differences are alive as ever, but within both camps; finally, there is indeed a lag (not a difference) in the appropriation of intellectual techniques by most schools of 'Continental' philosophy, and this should be overcome through appropriation of what the best 'analytic' philosophers have produced. ● Michael Strauss, Language and sense-perception: an aspect of analytic philosophy. To test an assertion about one fact by comparing it with perceived reality seems quite unproblematic. But the very possibility of such a procedure is incompatible with the intellectualistic basis of logical positivism and atomism (as it is for example to be found in Russell's Analysis of Mind). According to the intellectualistic approach pure sensation is meaningless. Sensation receives its meaning and order from the intellect through interpretation, which is performed with the help of linguistic tools, i.e. words and sentences. Before being interpreted, sensation is not a picture or a representation, it is neither true nor false, neither an illusion nor knowledge; it does not tell us anything; it is a lifeless and order-less matter. But how can a thought (or a proposition) be compared with such a lifeless matter? This difficulty confronts the intellectualist, if on the one hand he admits the necessity of comparing thought with sense-perception, and on the other hand presupposes that we possess only intellectual and no immediate perceptual understanding of what we see and hear. In this paper I give a critical exposition of three attempts, made by Russell, Neurath and Wittgenstein, to solve this problem. The first attempt adheres to strict conventionalism, the second tends to naturalism and the third leads to an amended, very moderate version of conventionalism. This amended conventionalism looks at sense impressions as being a peculiar language, which includes primary symbols, i.e. symbols not founded on convention and not being in need of interpretation. ● Ernst Tugendhat, Phenomenology and language analysis. The paper, first published in German in 1970, by which Tugendhat gave a start to the German rediscovery of analytic philosophy. The author stages a confrontation between phenomenology and language analysis. He argues that language analysis does not differ from phenomenology as far as the topics dealt with are concerned; instead, both currents are quite different in method. The author argues that language-analytic philosophy does not simply lay out of the mainstream of transcendental philosophy, but that instead it challenges this tradition on the very level of foundations. The author criticizes the linguistic-analytic approach centred on the subject as well as any object-centred approach, while proposing inter-subjective understanding through language as the new universal framework. This is, when construed in so general terms, the same program of hermeneutics, though in a more basic version. ● Jürgen Habermas, Language game, intention and meaning. On a few suggestions by Sellars and Wittgenstein. The paper, first published in German in 1975, in which Habermas announces his own linguistic turn through a discovery of speech acts. In this essay the author wants to work out a categorical framework for a communicative theory of society; he takes Wittgenstein's concept of language game as a Leitfade and, besides, he takes advantage also of Wilfried Sellars's quasi-transcendental account of the genesis of intentionality. His goal is to single out the problems connected with a theory of consciousness oriented in a logical-linguistic sense. ● Zvie Bar-On, Isomorphism of speech acts and intentional states. This essay presents the problem of the formal relationship between speech acts and intentional states as an essential part of the perennial philosophical question of the relation between language and thought. I attempt to show how this problem had been dealt with by two prominent philosophers of different camps in our century, Edmund Husserl and John Searle. Both of them wrote extensively about the theory of intentionality. I point out an interesting, as it were unintended, continuity of their work on that theory. Searle started where Husserl left off 80 years earlier. Their meeting point could be used as the first clue in our search. They both adopted in effect the same distinction between two basic aspects of the intentional experience: its content or matter, and its quality or mode. Husserl did not yet have the concept of a speech act as contradistinguished from an intentional state. The working hypothesis, however, which he suggested, could be used as a second clue for the further elaboration of the theory. The relationship of the two levels, the mental and the linguistic, which remained for Husserl in the background only, became the cornerstone of Searle' s inquiry. He employed the speech act as the model and analysed the intentional experience by means of the conceptual apparatus of his own theory of speech acts. This procedure enabled him to mark out a number of parallelisms and correlations between the two levels. This procedure explains the phenomenon of the partial isomorphism of speech acts and intentional states. ● Roberta de Monticelli, Ontology. A dialogue among the linguistic philosopher, the naturalist, and the phenomenological philosopher. This paper proposes a comparison between two main ways of conceiving the role and scope of that fundamental part of philosophy (or of "first" philosophy) which is traditionally called "ontology". One way, originated within the analytic tradition, consists of two main streams, namely philosophy of language and (contemporary) philosophy of mind, the former yielding "reduced ontology" and the latter "neo-Aristotelian ontology". The other way of conceiving ontology is exemplified by "phenomenological ontology" (more precisely, the Husserlian, not the Heideggerian version). Ontology as a theory of reference ("reduced" ontology, or ontology as depending on semantics) is presented and justified on the basis of some classical thesis of traditional philosophy of language (from Frege to Quine). "Reduced ontology" is shown to be identifiable with one level of a traditional, Aristotelian ontology, namely the one which corresponds to one of the four "senses of being" listed in Aristotle's Metaphysics: "being" as "being true". This identification is justified on the basis of Franz Brentano's "rules for translation" of the Aristotelian table of judgements in terms of (positive and negative) existential judgments such as are easily translatable into sentences of first order predicate logic. The second part of the paper is concerned with "neo-Aristotelian ontology", i.e. with naturalism and physicalism as the main ontological options underlying most of contemporary discussion in the philosophy of mind. The qualification of such options as "neo-Aristotelian" is justified; the relationships between "neo-Aristotelian ontology" and "reduced ontology" are discussed. In the third part the fundamental tenet of "phenomenological ontology" is identified by the thesis that a logical theory of existence and being does capture a sense of "existing" and "being" which, even though not the basic one, is grounded in the basic one. An attempt is done of further clarifying this "more basic" sense of "being". An argument making use of this supposedly "more basic" sense is advanced in favour of a "phenomenological ontology". ● Kuno Lorenz, Analytic Roots in Dialogic Constructivism. Both in the Vienna Circle ad in Russell's early philosophy the division of knowledge into two kinds (or two levels), perceptual and conceptual, plays a vital role. Constructivism in philosophy, in trying to provide a pragmatic foundation - a knowing-how - to perceptual as well as conceptual competences, discovered that this is dependent on semiotic tools. Therefore, the "principle of method" had to be amended by the "principle of dialogue". Analytic philosophy being an heir of classical empiricism, conceptually grasping the "given", and constructive philosophy being an heir of classical rationalism, perceptually providing the "constructed", merge into dialogical constructivism, a contemporary development of ideas derived especially from the works of Charles S. Peirce (his pragmatic maxim as a means of giving meaning to signs) and of Ludwig Wittgenstein (his language games as tools of comparison for understanding ways of life). 7. Albrecht Wellmer, "Autonomy of meaning" and "principle of charity" from the viewpoint of the pragmatics of language. In this essay I present an interpretation of the principle of the autonomy of meaning and of the principle of charity, the two main principles of Davidson's semantic view of truth, showing how both principles may fit in a perspective dictated by the pragmatics of language. I argue that (I) the principle of the autonomy of meaning may be thoroughly reformulated in terms of the pragmatics of language, (ii) the principle of charity needs a supplement in terms of pragmatics of language in order to become really enlightening as a principle of interpretation. Besides, I argue that: (i) on the one hand, the fundamental thesis of Habermas on the pragmatic theory of meaning ("we understand a speech act when we know what makes it admissible") is correlated with the seemingly intentionalist thesis according to which we understand a speech act when we know what a speaker means; (ii) on the other hand, to say that the meaning competence of a competent speaker is basically a competence about a potential of reasons (or also of possible justifications) which is inherently connected with the meaning of statements, or with their use in utterances. ● Rüdiger Bubner, The convergence of analytic and hermeneutic philosophy This paper argues that the analytic philosophy does not exist, at least as understood by its original programs. Differences in the analytic camp have always been bigger than they were believed to be. Now these differences are coming to the fore thanks to a process of dissolution of dogmatism. Philosophical analysis is led by its own inner logic towards questions that may be fairly qualified as hermeneutic. Recent developments in analytic philosophy, e.g. Davidson, seem to indicate a growing convergence of themes between philosophical analysis and hermeneutics; thus, the familiar opposition of Anglo-Saxon and Continental philosophy might soon belong to history. The fact of an ongoing appropriation of analytical techniques by present-day German philosophers may provide a basis for a powerful argument for the unity of philosophizing, beyond its strained images privileging one technique of thinking and rejecting the remainder. Actual philosophical practice should take the dialogue between the two camps more seriously; in fact, the processes described so far are no danger to philosophical work. They may be a danger for parochial approaches to philosophizing; indeed, contrary to what happens in the natural sciences, Thomas Kuhn's "normal science" developing within the framework of one fixed paradigm is not typical for philosophical thinking. And in philosophy innovating revolutions are symptoms more of vitality than of crisis. ● Karl-Otto Apel, The impact of analytic philosophy on my intellectual biography. In my paper I try to reconstruct the history of my Auseinandersetzung mit - as I called it - "language-analytical" philosophy (including even Peircean semiotics) since the late Fifties. The heuristics of my study was predetermined by two main motives of my beginnings: the hermeneutic turn of phenomenology and the transformation of "transcendental philosophy" in the light of the "language a priori". Thus, I took issue with the early and the later Wittgenstein, logical positivism, and post-Wittgensteinian and post-empiricist philosophy of science (i.e. G.H. von Wright and the renewal of the "explanation vs understanding controversy" as well as the debate between Th. Kuhn and Popper/Lakatos); besides, with speech act theory and the debate about "transcendental arguments" since Strawson. The "pragmatic turn", started already by C.L. Morris and the later Carnap, led me to study also the relationship between Wittgensteinian "use" theory of meaning and of truth. This resulted on my side in something like a program of "transcendental semiotics", i.e. "transcendental pragmatics" and "transcendental hermeneutics". ● Ben-Ami Scharfstein, A doubt on both their houses: the blindness to non-western philosophies. The burden of my criticism is that contemporary European philosophers of all kinds have continued to think as if there were no true philosophy but that of the West. For the most part, the existentialists have been oblivious of their Eastern congeners; the hermeneuticians have yet to stretch their horizons beyond the most familiar ones; and the analysts remain unaware of the analyses and linguistic sensitivities of the ancient non-European philosophers. Briefly, ignorance still blinds almost all contemporary Western philosophers to the rich, variegated philosophical traditions outside of their familiar orbit. Both Continental and Anglo-Americans have lost the breadth of view that once characterized such thinkers as Herder and the Humboldts. The blindness that has resulted is not simply that of individual Western philosophers but of our whole, still parochial philosophical culture. (shrink)

SOCIOLOGIA DO TRABALHO: O CONCEITO DO TRABALHO DA ANTIGUIDADE AO SÉCULO XVI -/- SOCIOLOGY OF WORK: THE CONCEPT OF WORK OF ANTIQUITY FROM TO THE XVI CENTURY -/- RESUMO -/- Ao longo da história da humanidade, o trabalho figurou-se em distintas posições na sociedade. Na Grécia antiga era um assunto pouco, ou quase nada, discutido entre os cidadãos. Pensadores renomados de tal época, como Platão e Aristóteles, deixaram a discussão do trabalho para um último plano. Após várias transformações sociais entre (...) diferentes eras e povos, o trabalho foi ganhando espaço nos debates entre os povos, como os caldeus, hebreus e romanos. O trabalho conferiu-se no escopo da discussão social. Na Idade Média, com Agostinho, Santo Aquino e outros o labor foi concebido como algo benéfico e divino. O que se via como algo “escravo” ao povo, transformou-se em necessidade e benevolência divina. -/- Palavras-chave: Conceito; Trabalho; História; Definição. -/- ABSTRACT -/- Throughout the history of mankind, work has figured itself in different positions in society. In ancient Greece it was a little matter, or almost nothing, discussed among the citizens. Renowned thinkers of such a time, like Plato and Aristotle, left the discussion of the work for a last plan. After several social transformations between different eras and peoples, work was gaining space in the debates among peoples, such as the Chaldeans, Hebrews and Romans. The work has taken place within the scope of social discussion. In the Middle Ages, with Augustine, Saint Aquinas and others the work was conceived as something beneficial and divine. What was seen as something “slave” to the people, became need and divine benevolence. -/- Keywords: Concept; Work; History; Definition. -/- BASES TEMÁTICAS DESSE TRABALHO -/- ➢ O trabalho é um conceito construído socialmente; -/- ➢ A modernidade trouxe consigo mudanças significativas quanto à valorização do trabalho; -/- ➢ A origem dos mercados de trabalho, juntamente com o surgimento do capitalismo, minimizou o trabalho como um mero emprego assalariado; -/- ➢ O trabalho, no entanto, apresenta múltiplas manifestações nas nossas sociedades. -/- 1. A VISÃO GREGA DE TRABALHO -/- Comecemos pelos gregos, uma civilização excitante que, durante muitos séculos antes de Cristo, já começava a elaborar riquíssimas reflexões sobre vários aspectos da vida humana. No entanto, surpreende aqueles de nós que já ler os primeiros filósofos gregos, como entre tantas análises rigorosas e “diálogos”, um elemento tão central na vida social dos povos, como o trabalho havia tido escassa repercussão. A explicação só faz sentido, justamente, ao analisar a valorização que esses grandes pensadores tinham acerca do nosso objeto de estudo que é o trabalho. Embora, como supracitado, os gregos não tivessem uma visão unânime sobre o trabalho, não é menos certo assinalar que para esta civilização o trabalho foi considerado um fato altamente desvalorizado. O trabalho, para eles, dado a sua vinculação com a dimensão de constrangimento e necessidades, limitava a liberdade dos indivíduos, condição indispensável para integrar o mundo da “pólis” na qualidade de cidadão. O homem livre realizava atividades absolutamente desinteressadas: a atividade intelectual (que não era considerada trabalho) fazia parte do ócio e da contemplação. O trabalho, reservado apenas aos escravos, como bem sinala Hopenhayn (1955), significava uma mera função produtiva. Portanto, o escravo passou a ser unicamente uma força de trabalho. Como tal, ele não tem personalidade e pertence ao seu mestre, como uma coisa entre muitas. Como objeto de propriedade, escapa ao pensamento antropológico que domina a filosofia sofista e socrática, porque para o cidadão grego falar de escravo não implica um sujeito pensante, senão uma coisa ou, no máximo, a força. Também escapa ao pensamento platônico, porque, como uma coisa, parece totalmente desvalorizado na construção idealista-dualista da realidade (HOPENHAYN, 1988. p. 23 – Tradução própria). -/- Três termos fundamentais que devemos recordar da tradição grega: -/- 1 – Ponos: penalidade, fadiga; -/- 2 – Banausia: trabalho mecânico, e -/- 3 – Ergon: realização. -/- Vejamos como essa noção de trabalho é construída como algo servil (ponos), ao qual uma visão positiva de lazer e contemplação foram contrastadas como uma atividade puramente humana e libertadora. As raízes do supracitado são encontradas no valor eticamente supremo da autarquia socrática. Segundo essa noção alcunhada por Sócrates (469-399 a.C.), todo aquele que trabalha está submetido tanto à matéria como aos homens para quem trabalha. Nessa medida, sua vida carece de autonomia e, portanto, de valor moral. Naturalmente, não só os escravos, mas também qualquer trabalhador dedicado a todos os tipos de tarefas manuais, foram desprezados por um pensamento helênico indubitavelmente aristocrático. Para Platão (427-347 a.C.), de origem aristocrática, descendente do último rei de Atenas e discípulo de Sócrates, a autarquia continua a ser perpetrada como um valor ético supremo e, em consonância com os interesses da aristocracia fundiária, afirmava que somente a agricultura evocava autêntica autonomia. Dessa forma, o pensamento platônico restringiu a participação política a escravos, comerciantes e artesãos. Todos eles têm em comum a dependência das condições materiais em que produzem e trocam mercadorias. O plano político estará intimamente relacionado ao econômico-trabalhista: somente quem é capaz de governar a si mesmo (e como sabemos, acontece com aqueles que não trabalham ou possuem terras), pode governar os outros. Somente a liberação total da prática mundana do trabalho abre as possibilidades de dedicar-se, como fez Platão, à contemplação (σχολή), à filosofia e às ciências, e por meio disso saber distinguir o bem do mal, o justo do injusto, o verdadeiro do falso. Quem poderia dedicar-se a tais “tarefas nobres”? Evidentemente, aqueles que não precisam fazer parte da população trabalhadora, isto é, a aristocracia. Esse sistema de governo aristocrático foi defendido, obviamente, por Platão. Em sua “A República” sinala que o governo perfeito é o aristocrático, e que a este se sucedem a timocracia (governo dos guerreiros), a oligarquia (dos ricos) e a democracia (“governo daqueles que amam o prazer, a mudança e a liberdade), que perece por seus excessos nas mãos de alguns homem audaz que se coloca à frente do povo para defender a democracia e “do tronco desses protetores do povo nasce o tirano”, dando origem à tirania.(2) Em seu diálogo “Político” podemos ler: Aqueles que possuem a si mesmos através da compra, e aqueles que podem ser chamados sem nenhuma discussão de escravos, não participam da arte real [...] E todos aqueles que são livres, se dedicam espontaneamente a atividades servis como as supracitadas, transportando e trocando produtos da agricultura e de outras artes; que nos mercados, indo de cidade em cidade por mar e terra, trocando dinheiro por outras coisas ou por dinheiro, o que chamamos de banqueiros, comerciantes, marinheiros e revendedores, poderão, por acaso, reivindicar para eles algo da ciência política? [...], mas também aqueles que estão dispostos a prestar serviços a todos por salários ou por subsídios, nunca os encontramos participantes na arte de governar [...] Como os chamaremos? Como você acabou de dizer agora: servidores, mas não governantes dos estados (PLATÃO, 1983. pp. 237-8 – adaptado). Esse estado ideal que Platão projetou em seus ensinamentos estava longe, a propósito, da democracia ateniense defendida por Péricles. De certa forma, Platão só confiava em uma elite no poder constituída por uns poucos (oligarquia) que não deveriam se render às tarefas servis da produção e circulação das riquezas. Para ele, as crianças aristocráticas deveriam ser selecionadas desde a infância, recebendo uma educação suficiente tanto em filosofia quanto nas “artes da guerra”. Aos trinta anos, eles já seriam capazes de passar por um exame donde seriam selecionados os “filósofos-reis” encarregados do governo. De fato, no entanto, suas concepções de governo nunca poderiam ser executadas com pureza; ou pela chamada “contrarrevolução aristocrática”, ou pela invasão estrangeira subsequente. Essa visão do trabalho que estamos a analisar, como bem sinala Henri Arvon (1914- 1992), conduz a uma sociedade basicamente conservadora e estancada no produtivo. (3) A ideia de liberdade, ócio e contemplação como valores superiores, propõe um desprezo pelo trabalho que, como vimos, é uma atividade puramente transformadora. Há aqueles que, mediante tal contestação, arriscam fundamentar que grande parte do subdesenvolvimento tecnológico na Grécia derive justamente a essa cultura tão peculiar em relação ao trabalho. Caso contrário, se houvesse escravos, por que avançar em conhecimentos que facilitaram o trabalho? Não nos surpreende, nesse sentido, que uma civilização capaz de criar conhecimentos espetaculares em áreas particularmente complexas como a geometria (Euclides), por outro lado, não soubesse (ou não gostaria) de avançar em conhecimentos técnicos aplicáveis ao campo econômico-trabalhista. Já vimos como a cidadania era o escopo da de alguns aristocratas da civilização helênica. Hannah Arendt (1906-1975) sinalava que os gregos distinguiam entre os escravos, os inimigos vencidos (dmôes ou douloi) que estavam encarregados do trabalho doméstico, e os demiourgoi, homens livres para se deslocarem do domínio privado para o público. Somente depois do século V, sinala Arendt, a pólis começou a classificar as ocupações de acordo com os esforços que eles exigiam. Nisso, Aristóteles (384-322 a.C.) teve que desempenhar um papel preponderante que colocou aqueles cujo “corpo está mais deformado” na faixa mais baixa. Ele não admitiria, portanto, aos estrangeiros (os escravos), nem tampouco aos banausoi, antes dos demiourgoi, trabalhadores e artesãos que deviam resignar-se ao mundo dos “oikos”. Estes, não só estavam submetidos à necessidade como eram incapazes de ser livres, mas também incapazes de governar a parte “animal” do seu ser (República, 590). Serão eles, não obstante, aqueles que permitem o florescimento da chamada democracia helênica, pois, quem senão os trabalhadores (escravos ou artesãos) poderia manter com seu esforço o ócio e a contemplação dos “homens livres”, cidadãos do mundo? Como foi supracitado, será Aristóteles quem delimitará ainda mais os direitos de cidadania. Sua cidade ideal, como em Platão, diferenciaria os governantes dos governados. O primeiro, constituído pela classe militar, estadistas, magistrados e sacerdócio. O segundo, pelos agricultores, artesãos e os camponeses. Com os comerciantes há uma certa ambivalência: embora ele considerava uma ocupação antinatural, estava disposto a admiti-los até certo ponto em sua cidade ideal, cuja base seguiria sendo a escravidão. Em sua Política, ele explana: A cidade mais perfeita não fará do trabalhador manual (artesão) um cidadão. Caso o admitir como tal, a definição de virtude cívica [...] não alcança todos os cidadãos, nem apenas os homens livres, mas só os que estão isentos de trabalhos indispensáveis à sobrevivência. Destes, os que estão a serviço de um só indivíduo, são escravos; os que servem a comunidade, são trabalhadores manuais (artesãos) ou trabalhadores não qualificados (ARISTÓTELES, 1998. p. 203). Tampouco compreenderá os agricultores como reivindicava Platão: “Tampouco deverão ser agricultores os futuros cidadãos, pois para a formação de sua virtude e para a atividade política, o ócio é necessário”. Essa prolifera discussão ocorreu em uma civilização onde começaram a surgir as primeiras mudanças produtivas derivadas do crescimento econômico feito do descobrimento do ferro, e sua posterior divisão do trabalho, onde florescem os grupos de comerciantes e a aristocracia proprietária de terras começa a dominar. Os pensadores da época, mais aliados a estes últimos, contrariavam os princípios da acumulação comercial. Em sua Política, Aristóteles aconselha os cidadãos a absterem-se de qualquer profissão mecânica e de toda especulação mercantil. O primeiro, porque limita intelectualmente, e o segundo, porque degrada o ético. Somente o ócio (scholé), para esses pensadores, permite a virtuosidade e a capacidade de julgar. A Koinonia politiké (comunidade dos homens livres) era típica daqueles que não precisavam de trabalho, relegando a população trabalhadora ao mero âmbito da reprodução material (chrematistiké), o que só era possível em um contexto de alta divisão do trabalho onde um grupo minoritário (oligarquia) vivia à custa do trabalho da maioria (muitos deles escravos). O termo “ócio” provém de “scholé”, entendido entre os gregos como tempo para si mesmo, para a contemplação (sjolé) e, portanto, para a formação (scholé = escola). Desse ponto de vista, o ócio para os gregos é um fim em si mesmo. Entre os romanos, no entanto, adquire outra conotação. Em latim octium, designa o campo contraposto ao neo-octium (negócio), ou seja, é o tempo de descanso que permite dedicar-se ao negócio. Tal visão sobre o trabalho e o ócio, respectivamente, não foi, no entanto, como supracitado no início, unanimemente desenvolvida em toda a história da civilização helênica. Os textos de Homero(4) (séculos IX e VIII a.C.) são mais reservados a respeito, mas acima de tudo, na Grécia antiga encontramos autores como Hesíodo (século VIII), que postulavam outras teses. Para o autor de “Os trabalhos e os dias”, o trabalho se constituía em um justo e necessário castigo que Zeus impôs aos homens pelo pecado de Prometeu. Note a similitude com a crença bíblica que veremos adiante. Hesíodo explana: Lembre-se sempre do meu conselho e trabalhe [...] os deuses e os homens se indignam com quem ocioso vive, semelhante em caráter aos zangões sem ferrão, que consomem o esforço das abelhas [...] O trabalho não é nenhuma desonra; desonra é não trabalhar (HESÍODO, 2012. p. 93 e 95). Também entre alguns sofistas (aqueles que vendiam sua sabedoria a quem gostaria de comprá-la), como Protágoras (século V a.C.), “o primeiro e o maior deles”(5), coloca o estudo e a arte (técnica) na mesma faixa, e Antifonte (século V a.C.) disse: “[...] e as honras e preços, e toda a espécie de encorajamento que Deus incumbiu aos homens, devem necessariamente resultar de fadiga e suor”. Como conviveu a cultura grega com essas noções tão diferentes? Tenho a ideia, juntamente com Hopenhayn, que o desprezo dos pensadores gregos pelo manual foi causado pela violência dos guerreiros e dos aristocratas de plantão, que impuseram aos seja derrotados o jugo. Do trabalho árduo e difícil. Porque a aristocracia queria trabalhar nessas condições? A própria divisão do trabalho em si possibilitou o crescimento da civilização helênica, estava gerando diferentes classes com visões distintas sobre o trabalho. Por outro lado, surgiram os camponeses pobres, os derrotados e aqueles que tinham que viver do trabalho artesanal. Essas pessoas, na maioria das vezes isoladas do mundo da “polis”, gerariam suas próprias leituras dos acontecimentos, seus próprios espaços para o desenvolvimento cultural, inclusive sua própria religião, distante daquela imposta pela visão aristocrática, olímpica, contemplativa e estética dos “homens livres”. -/- 2. A VISÃO DOS CALDEUS ACERCA DO TRABALHO -/- A leitura de outros povos e civilizações sobre este tema tem sido diferente. Entre os caldeus, por exemplo, a visão pejorativa analisada entre os gregos não é registrada. Nas escrituras sagradas da religião de Zaratustra (o Avesta), lemos: “É um santo aquele que constrói uma casa, na qual mantém o fogo, o gado, sua mulher, seus filhos, os bons párias. Aquele que faz a terra produzir trigo, que cultiva os frutos do campo, cultiva corretamente a pureza” (HOPENHAYN, 1988. p. 35). Para os caldeus, como se pode observar, o trabalho implica, de uma posição diametralmente oposta à helênica, uma contribuição na ordem econômica, mas também na espiritual. Trabalhar não é só “cultivar o trigo” (dimensão das necessidades fisiológicas), mas também “cultivar a pureza”, dimensão esta, relacionada com a satisfação das necessidades espirituais. Por que apreciamos uma diferença tão acentuada entre essas culturas? Provavelmente, os diferentes graus de desenvolvimento dos povos levaram a isso. Enquanto entre os gregos primava uma divisão do trabalho, onde alguns tinham o status de “homens livres” dedicados à contemplação e ao ócio, outros não tinham escolha a não ser trabalhar, em uma situação de domínio em relação às naturezas daqueles que o empregaram. Esse não foi o caso dos caldeus, que possuía um escasso dividido trabalho, em que a todos se correspondia uma atividade laboriosa. -/- 3. A VISÃO DOS HEBREUS SOBRE O TRABALHO -/- No meio do caminho entre os caldeus e os gregos, encontramos a avaliação do trabalho feita pelos hebreus, dessa vez, tingindo de ambivalências. Tal como ponderava Hesíodo entre os gregos, para os hebreus, o trabalho se constituía de um mal necessário; em um meio para expiar os pecados; dessa vez não de Prometeu, mas de Adão e Eva. Vamos ver, no entanto, alguns aspectos mais complexos. A primeira coisa a se notar da perspectiva hebraica (compartilhada com o cristianismo) é o que se resulta da leitura do livro de Gênesis, aquela história poética e cheia de imagens para elucidar facilmente a origem da criação. Lá se estabelece a ideia de um deus criador-trabalhador: “No princípio Deus criou o céu e a terra [...] No sétimo dia Deus já havia concluído a obra que realizara, e nesse dia descansou [...] de toda a obra que realizara na criação”.(7) Esse Deus como primeira causa (São Tomás de Aquino (1225-1274)) denota laboriosidade seu correspondente descanso, um binômio que será fundamental para compreender a evolução do direito do trabalho e do direito ao descanso semanal contemporâneo. Digamos, em segundo lugar, que o Senhor Deus providenciou o trabalho no Éden: “O Senhor Deus colocou o homem no jardim do Éden para cuidar dele e cultivá-lo”.(8) Portanto, não é certa a ideia de que o trabalho é o resultado do pecado: ao contrário, é um trabalho árduo aquele que deriva do pecado segundo a tradição hebraico-cristã. Antes, na ausência do pecado, havia uma espécie de bom trabalho. Foi o pecado original, que levou Deus a condenar Adão e Eva, e por isso a toda a humanidade, a “ganhar o pão com o suor da sua testa”. “Por isso o Senhor Deus o mandou embora do jardim do Éden para cultivar o solo do qual fora tirado”. (9) O Talmude diz: “Se o homem não encontra seu alimento como animais e pássaros, precisa ganhá-los, isso se deve ao pecado”. Essa sentença, de caráter histórico, promove a ideia de trabalho como meio para expiar o pecado original, mas também como meio para produzir; isto é, legitimando a mudança inerente a todo trabalho e, portanto, legitimando também aquela vontade transformadora que caracterizou desde sempre os povos hebreus.(10) Agora, ao contrário dos caldeus, para os hebreus da antiguidade, o trabalho nunca teve um fim ético em si mesmo, mas foi constituído apenas como um meio. Essa visão esteve sempre presente, e caracteriza muito claramente a concepção que muitos integrantes de nossas sociedades contemporâneas possuem sobre o trabalho, além da religião de cada um. -/- 4. OS ROMANOS E O TRABALHO -/- Os romanos, por sua vez, deram uma importante contribuição para o desenvolvimento do conceito de trabalho. Se bem que, a grosso modo, não houvesse grandes diferenças com o pensamento dos gregos, com quem eles tinham em comum, além disso, uma maior divisão do trabalho fruto do desenvolvimento econômico e o uso massivo de mão de obra escrava(11); a maior contribuição do ponto de vista de sua originalidade histórica estava presente na tradição jurídica que inauguraria o Império Romano. O maior impacto por meios jurídicos e não filosóficos é explicado pelo fato de que os romanos, ao contrário dos gregos, não conseguiram “inspirar” a produção de grandes pensadores sociais. Com efeito, para os romanos, como o escravo não era considerado uma pessoa, o viam-no desprovido de personalidade jurídica. Isso conduziu a negação da relação de trabalho entre a pessoa encarregada de um trabalho manual (escravo) e seu dono. Tal relação correspondia, acima de tudo, ao direito de propriedade que os juristas romanos haviam garantido quase sem limites para seus cidadãos. O problema, como aponta Hopenhayn, surgiu quando o proprietário não ocupa seu escravo, mas aluga-o para terceiros. Surge assim a figura do arrendamento de serviços, que deriva do arrendamento das coisas. Porém, como na realidade o que se alugava era a força de trabalho, a qualidade jurídica desloca-se para a atividade realizada pelo escravo. Dessa forma, a atividade do trabalhador, primeiro do escravo, posteriormente do homem livre, começa a ser tratada como uma coisa, e se converte em antecedente do arrendamento de serviços do Direito Civil moderno. Ademais, na tradição romana, o trabalho manual estava desprestigiado. Cícero (106-43 a.C.) em De Officiis, estabeleceu com fria claridade “ipsa merces est auctoramentum servitius”(12) (todo trabalho assalariado é trabalho escravo). A vida era difícil para esses trabalhadores: nos territórios sob domínio romano, Augusto (63-14 a.C.) tinha imposto um tributo à todos os homens que exerciam algum tipo de trabalho manual, além do imposto à residência, às valas e outros mais particulares como o imposto para a detenção de porcos. Certamente, aqueles que levaram a pior parte no tempo da Roma Imperial foram os escravos (servi) sob domínio e propriedade de seus donos (domini). Me seus tempos de auge, a demanda de escravos em Roma era de 500.000 ao ano. Se compararmos com os 60.000 escravos negros trazidos a América nos anos de maior tráfico, teremos uma ideia mais ou menos exata da magnitude desse triste fenômeno. -/- 5. O CRISTIANISMO E O TRABALHO -/- As mensagens do cristianismo primitivo, são inseridas logo, nesse tempo histórico, onde Roma se tornava o centro das maiores mobilizações de rebeldia da antiguidade. Isaías, nesse sentido, proclamaria que o Messias viria: “[...] a pregar boas novas aos abatidos, a vendar aos quebrantados de coração, a publicar liberdade aos cativos, e aos presos a abertura do cárcere”.(13) Jesus, efetivamente, incluiu em sua missão, mensagens de libertação aos pobres e oprimidos. Porém, ao contrário do supracitado, como bem sinala Eric Roll (1907-2005), dos antigos profetas hebreus, não o faria saudando as comunidades tribais com seu espírito de grupo; mas animado por uma mensagem mais universal e permanente, proclamando uma mudança mais completa e integral na conduta do homem em sociedade, onde os valores de justiça e amor se colocariam em um primeiro plano. Evidentemente, a mensagem do cristianismo primitivo, e mais concretamente de Cristo, distava muito dos filósofos gregos. Deixemos que Roll explique: Temos visto que as doutrinas econômicas de Platão e, em certa medida, de Aristóteles, nasciam da aversão aristocrática ao desenvolvimento do comercialismo e da democracia. Seus ataques contra os males que acarreta o afã de acumular as riquezas são reacionárias: olham para trás, e o de Cristo olha para frente, pois exige uma mudança total, mas relações humanas. Aqueles sonhavam com um estado ideal destinado a proporcionar a “boa vida” para os cidadãos livres unicamente e cujas fronteiras eram as da cidade-estado daquele tempo; Cristo pretendeu falar por todos e para todos os homens. Platão e Aristóteles haviam justificado a escravidão; os ensinamentos de Cristo sobre a fraternidade entre todos os homens e o amor universal eram incompatíveis com a ideia da escravidão, apesar das opiniões expostas depois por São Tomás de Aquino. Os filósofos gregos, interessados somente pelos cidadãos, sustentaram opiniões muito rígidas sobre a diferente dignidade das classes de trabalho, e consideravam as ocupações servis, com exceção da agricultura, como próprias apenas para os escravos. Cristo, ao dirigir-se aos trabalhadores de seu tempo, proclamou pela primeira vez a dignidade de todas as classes de trabalho, assim materiais como espirituais (1942. p. 42 – Tradução própria). Não pode escapar desse estudo, o fato de que o próprio Jesus Cristo herdou o ofício de carpinteiro de seu “Pai” José; e que escolheu seus discípulos entre os pescadores e artesãos da região. Essa visão primitiva do cristianismo, no entanto, deve ser analisada no quadro das escrituras sagradas do Antigo Testamento que compartilha com a cultura (e obviamente a religião) hebraica. Nesse sentido, o trabalho não deixa de ser um meio, descartando-se como um fim em si mesmo. Mas, agora atribuindo-lhe um novo valor, sempre em tento um meio para um fim virtuoso: o trabalho será fundamental para permitir a satisfação das necessidades de cada um, mas também seus frutos, deverão ser inseridos em uma dimensão comunitária, onde o “próximo” necessitado esperará a contribuição fraterna e solidária do cristão. O trabalho, nessa perspectiva, não só possibilita o “tomar”, mas também o “dar”. Em relação a dupla perspectiva, é onde podemos entender a crítica do cristianismo a acumulação da riqueza. Como aponta o evangelista Mateus, “acumular o tesouro no céu, onde nem a traça nem a ferrugem os consomem, e onde os ladrões não perfuram nem roubam. Onde está o seu tesouro está seu coração”. (14) Com São Paulo se incorpora um novo componente valioso: a obrigatoriedade moral do trabalho. Em sua carta aos Tessalonicenses dita claramente “ao que não trabalha que não coma”. Diz São Paulo: Vocês sabem em que forma têm que nos imitar: nós trabalhamos enquanto estivemos entre vocês, não pedimos a ninguém um pão que não teríamos ganhado, senão que, de noite e dia, trabalhamos duramente até nos cansarmos, para não ser carga para nenhum de vocês [...] Além disso, quando estávamos com vocês lhes demos está regra: se alguém não quiser trabalhar, não coma. Mas agora ouvimos que há entre vocês alguns que vivem sem nenhuma disciplina e não fazem nada, muito ocupados em meter-se em tudo. A estes lhes mandamos e lhes rogamos, por Cristo Jesus, nosso Senhor, que trabalhem tranquilos para ganhar a vida (II Tes. 3:10). Essa frase, entendida somente no contexto de uma sociedade donde não existia um conceito de desemprego tal como entendemos atualmente, é curiosamente reproduzida pelo modelo soviético em pleno século XX. Com efeito, a Constituição da União Soviética estabeleceu em seu Artigo 12: “O trabalho é, na Rússia, uma questão de dever e de honra para todo cidadão fisicamente capaz. Essa obrigação é baseada no princípio: “quem não trabalha não come”. (15)(16) Para São Paulo, o trabalho deve ser o meio para ganhar a vida. Ele quis ser exemplo e enquanto pregava continuava trabalhando, presumivelmente como tecelão de tendas. A obrigatoriedade moral se aplica na medida em que a pessoa está em condições de o fazer. Para os incapacitados a fazê-lo (idosos, crianças, deficientes, doentes, acidentados etc.) existia a obrigatoriedade do socorro segundo a máxima do amor (ágape) ao próximo. Essas sentenças morais têm hoje em dia uma importante quota de explicação para com as contemporâneas políticas sociais. -/- 6. O TRABALHO NA IDADE MÉDIA -/- A Idade Média, período que ocupa desde o crepúsculo do Império Romano do Ocidente no século V pelos bárbaros, até o século XV, com a queda de Constantinopla, evidentemente mostra um conjunto importante de escolas e pensadores que marcaram pautas importantes para discernir o valor do trabalho nas diferentes culturas. A organização econômica mais visível nestes mil anos, onde operou o trabalho, consistia em extensões grandes de latifúndios errados do Império Romano (o sistema econômico denominado feudalismo), onde (mediante a falta de escravos) recorreu-se à mão de obra camponesa para o trabalho. O sistema, implicava o arrendamento de parte dessas terras a ex-escravos ou homens livres, em troca de uma renda em dinheiro e espécies, além do cultivo das próprias terras senhoriais. Por certo, a figura do servo não distava muito da do escravo se tivermos em conta as condições de funcionamento do contrato de trabalho. O comércio também teve seu lugar no sistema feudal, o mesmo adquiriu grande importância em certas regiões ou lugares, à exemplo de Constantinopla. A atividade econômica seguia seu rumo na história, e depois dos séculos IX e X, o crescimento das forças produtivas deu lugar a uma maior acumulação por parte de componentes e artesãos e, por certo, a uma maior apropriação de excedentes por parte do Senhor feudal. Essa situação foi ativante para a construção dos primeiros Burgos ou cidades, onde o comércio e a indústria artesanal teriam um marco mais adequado para o seu desenvolvimento. Essa é a etapa do nascimento dos primeiros grêmios corporativos (17). Então para o século XII, a estrutura feudal começa a desmoronar porque a produção de determinados bens começa a ser mais eficiente em cidades e não no feudo. O dinheiro, então, passou a ganhar maior peso que a terra, o que obriga os senhores feudais a aumentar seus rendimentos. Isso leva a um empobrecimento lógico dos camponeses, o que não dura muito, porque na primeira metade do século XIV, a maior parte dos servos alcança sua liberdade. Por sua vez, nessa apertada síntese da história econômica da Idade Média, devemos assinalar que pelo século XIV, e depois das Cruzadas e o posterior desenvolvimento do comércio internacional entre os impérios arábico e bizantino, inaugura-se uma etapa pré-capitalista que durará três séculos. É lá que se levanta mais energética a voz de alguns homens da Igreja contra a tendência à exaltação da riqueza já começava a avivar-se na Europa. São Tomás de Aquino, nesse sentido, não considerará ao comércio pré-capitalista bom ou natural. No entanto, ele o julgava inevitável uma vez que era o meio ao qual o comerciante tinha que manter a sua família. Dessa forma, os lucros do comércio não era outra coisa senão o fruto do trabalho. Se tratava, então, de colocar o acento na justiça da mudança efetuada, para o qual Aquino recorre a Aristóteles, cuja análise sobre o valor de mudança é figurado no seu estudo da Justiça. Muitos padres da Igreja, desde então, pretenderam formular um conceito de “preço justo”. Nesse sentido, o Cristianismo apresenta uma evolução do seu pensamento sobre o comércio que partia de uma visão absolutamente contrária ao começo da Idade Média (Santo Agostinho (354-430), São Jerônimo (347-420) etc.), a outra mais transacionável, que acompanhou, sobretudo, o pensamento de Aquino. Algo similar ocorreu com outro dos “preceitos” da Igreja em matéria econômica: a usura. Esta era considerada pela igreja como a melhor forma de obter lucro. O mesmo evangelista Lucas (século I d.C.) foi categórico ao rejeitar essa linha de operações. A lei hebraica também fez isso, e podemos encontrar no livro do Êxodo (22,25) tal proibição a respeito. Mais atrás no tempo, há antecedentes de condenação à usura entre os hindus (Rigveda, cerca de 1500 a.C.) e budistas (século VI d.C.), além do Islã mais próximo do nosso tempo (século VI d.C.). Ao princípio da Idade Média, como testemunha Roll, a proibição somente alcançava a Igreja, já que o escasso desenvolvimento mercantil não merecia outra coisa. No final da Idade Média, no entanto, que a situação é outra; e a prática secular foi orientada no sentido de promover o empréstimo de dinheiro cobrando por isso um juro. Alarmada ante esses fatos, a Igreja condena mais uma vez a usura no Terceiro Concílio de Latrão de 1179. No mesmo escreveu e ensinou São Tomé (século I d.C.) e outros discípulos da Igreja. No entanto, as práticas econômicas foram minando a autoridade eclesial e está terminou, através de sucessivas etapas, por aceitar, em certas condições e sob certas circunstâncias, a cobrança de juros sobre a concessão de um empréstimo. Em tal sentido, um dos autores mais representativos só início da Idade Média foi Santo Agostinho. Foi este um dos pilares, em seu tempo, das noções “anticapitalistas” que foram seguidas e complementadas por homens do tamanho de São João (347-407), São Ambrósio (340-397), São Clemente (150-215), São Cipriano (200-258) entre outros. (18) Santo Agostinho valoriza o trabalho recordando em tal sentido a São Paulo, a que cita com muita frequência em seus textos. Segundo o Bispo de Hipona, todo trabalho manual é bom pelas razões dadas pelo cristianismo primitivo. Concilia, além disso, seu dualismo platônico, ao sustentar que enquanto o homem trabalha tem a alma livre, de modo que é perfeitamente compatível pensar em Deus ao mesmo tempo em que se trabalha. Essa particular sintonia entre o trabalho e a oração foi perfeitamente posta a prova pelos monges beneditinos, cujo lema “Ora Et Labora” (orar e trabalhar) é paradigmático. “Trabalha e não desesperes” dizia seu fundador, São Bento de Núrsia (480-547), de seus monastérios distribuídos em um primeiro momento a Subiaco, no início do século VI. Também corresponde a São Bento uma sentença que perdura até o dia de hoje no imaginário moral sobre o trabalho: “Otiositas inimica est animae” (a ociosidade é inimiga da alma), tal qual diz uma expressão popular castelhana: “el ocio es la madre de todos los vicios” (o ócio é a mãe de todos os vícios). Tomás de Aquino, alguns séculos depois, continua a reflexão sobre o trabalho e estabelece uma hierarquia de profissões, onde localiza o trabalho agrícola e artesanal acima do comercial. Uma quota de originalidade na história do pensamento sobre o trabalho consistiu em considerá-lo como uma obrigação somente se necessário para subsistir; ou dito de outra maneira: quem não tem necessidade de trabalhar não tem que fazê-lo. Isso sim, à falta de trabalho, devia dedicar-se à oração e contemplação divina, atividades por certo mais elevadas para o autor da Suma Teológica. Logo, considerará que Deus é a causa primária, a que tudo deve a sua existência; por derivação, o homem é causa segunda, procurando atreves do trabalho “criar” em suas dimensões humanas. “Entre todas as formas com que a criatura humana tenta realizar a semelhança divina, não há outra de relevo mais destacado que a de trabalhar, isto é, ser em o mundo causa novos efeitos”, disse o Santo. (19) Aquino, além disso, utilizando categorias platônicas, hierarquiza o trabalho, considerando o intelectual acima do manual. Chama “artes servis” a estes últimos, enquanto que o trabalho intelectual corresponde ao conjunto das “artes liberais”, dignas de maior remuneração ao fazer uso da inteligência. Esta distinção própria da Escolástica, dá lugar à divisão clássica entre as 7 artes liberais: o Trívium (gramática, retórica e dialética) e quadrivium (astronomia, geometria, aritmética e música). Outras contribuições de São Aquino têm a ver com sua posição diante do trabalho agrícola ao qual o considera como o melhor meio para assegurar a subsistência de um povo; a maior importância dada à vida contemplativa sobre a ativa, embora considerando a primeira como “laboriosa”; sua posição sobre a escravidão, que não considerava como natural, no entanto, entendê-la “útil”(20); e sua interpretação sobre o contrato de trabalho: neste, o operário não vende a si mesmo, nem seu corpo, nem sua inteligência, nem sequer sua faculdade de trabalho. Isso significa que o Direito Natural proíbe considerar o trabalho como um objeto de mudança. Propõe, em vez disso, considerar o contrato como um arrendamento de serviço. Em termos gerais, a valorização que sobre o trabalho se realiza na Idade Média, rebaixando ao trabalho manual em relação a outras tarefas, fica explícita na divisão tripartida que recorre, entre outros, Adalberão Bispo de Laon (947-1030): “Triplex Dei ergo domus est quae Creditor uma nunca oran, alii pugnat, Aliique laborant” (ternária é a casa do Senhor e não uma: aqui sobre a terra uns oram, outros lutam e outros trabalham). Não gostaria de deixar passar por alto, finalmente, entre os movimentos originados na Idade Média, a contribuição que sobre o tema do trabalho teve a ordem franciscana. Essa, contra o que muitos podem crer, é uma ordem não mendicante no sentido estrito, mas sim trabalhadora e de pobreza. São Francisco de Assis (1181/82-1226), no final do século XII, marcaria como ninguém dentro do cristianismo, uma vida ascética baseada no trabalho e na pobreza. Inclui, além disso, um elemento pela primeira vez descoberto na cultura europeia: o sentido da alegria que acompanha o trabalho. “Essa condição de 'suor de sua testa' com 'a alegria de seu coração' outorga ao trabalho uma condição diferenciada”. Avançando então na história da humanidade, entramos na época moderna, caracterizada por cinco grandes eventos: -/- 1. A decadência do poder moral da Igreja e o enfraquecimento de seu poder econômico frente ao da crescente burguesia; -/- 2. O renascimento intelectual e artístico; -/- 3. As viagens paras as índias e a descoberta da América; -/- 4. A formação e a constituição dos Estados-nação; -/- 5. As reformas religiosas de Lutero (1483-1546) e Calvino (1509-1564). -/- Nesse contexto, os séculos XV e XVI mostraram como o mercantilismo ia avançando apesar dos esforços de alguns pensadores da Igreja que eventualmente perderam o pulso diante do desenrolar dos acontecimentos. Sucessivas encíclicas papais terminaram por legitimar o interesse nos empréstimos e, por meio desta, levou-se a maior acumulação de riquezas por parte dos banqueiros. Esse foi o meio ideal para o desenvolvimento da atividade do mercador, para quem, o trabalho passou a ser considerado um meio para obter sucesso. Ao dinamizar-se a atividade econômica e mercantil, a visão humanista do trabalho começa a perder valor, realçando-se ao mesmo como um simples meio para fins de enriquecimento. Talvez a exceção a essa noção estendida entre os novos atores tenha sido a proporcionada pelo humanismo renascentista. Para Campanella (1568-1639), por exemplo, sua “Cidade solar”, não existe o divórcio entre trabalho manual e intelectual, isso quando o segundo começa a ser supervalorizado por sua ação no plano das invenções e das novas técnicas.(22) Na mesma linha se situa Thomas More (1478-1535), o autor de “Utopia”, outra reação do cristianismo às projeções que estava adquirindo o cada vez mais influente mercantilismo. Embora o trabalho não seja considerado como um mau, pelo contrário, apresenta características humanizadoras, é sugestivo comprovar como em Utopia a jornada do trabalho não supera as seis horas diárias e na Cidade solar não se devia trabalhar mais que quatro horas. Indubitavelmente, essas versões de sociedades ideais terminariam por impactar sobre maneira a constituição das Missões Jesuítas na América do Sul; e as Franciscanas na Baixa Califórnia. É o Renascimento, o lugar propício, além disso, para renovar o conceito da virtuosidade, agora traduzida na figura do empresário ou financista audacioso e empreendedor. Essa linha foi reforçada logo por Calvino, para quem os negócios são um bom serviço a Deus, e a riqueza não é mais que um fruto de uma vida dedicada ao trabalho desde uma perspectiva ética que analisarei com Weber mais tarde, mas que confere ao trabalho a particularidade de ser um caminho para o sucesso. Esse puritanismo impulsionou sobremaneira a versão do “homo economicus” que mais tarde, em pleno auge do capitalismo pós-industrial, ao qual, segundo Daniel Bell (1919-2011), fora substituído pelos valores hedonistas. -/- REFERENCIAL TEÓRICO AGOSTINHO. Cidade de Deus: contra os pagãos. Trad. O. P. Leme. 2ª ed. Bragança Paulista: Editora Universitária, 2008. (Col. Pensamento humano). _____________. O livre-arbítrio. Trad. N. A. Oliveira. 1ª ed. São Paulo: Paulus, 1995. AQUINO, T. de. Suma Teológica. 2ª ed. São Paulo: Loyola, 2001. ARENDT, H. A condição humana. Trad. Roberto Raposo. Posfácio de Celso Lafer. 10ª ed. Rio de Janeiro: Forense Universitária, 2007. ARISTÓTELES. Política. Trad. A. C. Amaral e Carlos Gomes. 1ª ed. Lisboa: Vega, 1998. ARVON, H. A filosofia do trabalho. Trad. João Carlos Cunha. 1ª ed. Lisboa: Socicultur, 1961. AUGUSTI, J. C. W. Corpus Librorum symbolicorum. 1ª ed. Elberfeldi, 1827. BAVA, A. C. Introdução a sociologia do trabalho. 1ª ed. São Paulo: Ática, 1990. BÍBLIA SAGRADA. Trad. J. F. Almeida. Rio de Janeiro: King Cross, 2008. BOMENY, H. et al. Tempos modernos, tempos de sociologia. 2ª ed. São Paulo: Editora do Brasil, 2013. CAMUS, A. O mito de Sísifo. In: FALABRETTI, E.; OLIVEIRA, J. Filosofia: o livro das perguntas. 1ª ed. Curitiba: IESDE, 2011. ELDERS, L. J. O Pensamento de Santo Tomás de Aquino sobre o Trabalho. Trad. D. N. Pêcego. Aquinat, n° 9, (2009), 2-12. ISBN 1808-5733. FOSSIER, R. O trabalho na Idade Média. Trad. Marcelo Barreiro. 1ª ed. Petrópolis: Vozes, 2019. FRIEDMANN, G.; NAVILLE, P. Tratado de Sociologia do Trabalho. 1ª ed. São Paulo: Cultrix, 1973. HERZOG, J. S. Historia del pensamiento económico-social: de la antigüedad al siglo XVI. 4ª ed. México: FCE, 1939. HOPENHAYN, M. El Trabajo, itinerario de um concepto. 1ª ed. Santiago: PET, 1988. _________________. Repensar el trabajo – Historia, profusión y perspectivas de un concepto. 1ª ed. Buenos Aires: Norma, 2001. LUDWIG, E. Stalin. 1ª ed. Rio de Janeiro: Calvino, 1943. MACHADO, I. J. de R.; AMORIM, H. J. D.; BARROS, C. R. de. Sociologia hoje. 1ª ed. São Paulo: Ática, 2013. MERCURE, D.; SPURK, J. (Orgs.). O Trabalho na história do pensamento Ocidental. Petrópolis: Vozes, 2005. NOGUERA, J. A. El concepto de trabajo y la teoría social crítica. Barcelona: Papers, 2002. O'CONNOR, D. J. Historia crítica de la filosofía occidental. Tomo I – La filosofía en la antigüidad. 1ª ed. Buenos Aires: Paidós, 1967. OLIVEIRA, P. S. de. Introdução a sociologia. 24ª ed. São Paulo: Ática, 2001. PLATÃO. A República. 2ª ed. São Paulo: Martin Claret, 2000. (Col. A obra-prima de cada autor). _______. Político. Trad. J. C. de Souza, J. Paleikat e J. C. Costa. 2ª ed. São Paulo: Abril Cultural, 1983. (Col. Os Pensadores). ROLL, E. Historia de las doctrinas económicas. 1ª ed. México: FCE, 1942. SIMÓN, Y. R. Work, society and culture. 1ª ed. Nova Iorque: Fordham University Press, 1971. SILVA, A. et al. Sociologia em movimento. 2ª ed. São Paulo: Moderna, 2016. THE ZONDERVAN CORPORATION (Ed.). A História – a bíblia contada como uma só história do começo ao fim. Trad. Fabiano Morais. 1ª ed. Rio de Janeiro: Sextante, 2012. (shrink)

I here present an anarchist critique of the idea of ‘animalistic evil’ and its common use as a justification for the State’s existence and use of force. On this view, ‘evil’ is a privation of morality, justice, and civilised behaviour. It is then identified with the ‘animalistic’ since animals are often thought to be defined by the aforesaid privation. I first clarify the idea of animalistic evil within the history of philosophy and science. Aristotle (384–322 BCE), Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679), (...) and Thomas H. Huxley (1825–1895) prominently argue that all that prevents humanity from devolving into animalistic evil, a state of violent and individualistic struggle for bare survival, is the power of State government to forcibly control the animalistic drives within its citizens. I subsequently pose two questions. (1) Is it justified to associate animal life with evil when this is (a) understood as a privation of a morality, justice and society and (b) characterised as an individualistic struggle for survival? (2) If this is not justified, what is the political harm of doing so? Building on the work of the anarchist thinker Peter Kropotkin (1842–1921), I argue that any conception of animalistic evil is unjustifiable, that it is a false justification for the State’s existence and use of force, and that the State, upon making the empty threat of animalistic evil, both violently harms individuals and impedes the socially beneficial practice of mutual aid. (shrink)

After the discoveries of such scholars as J. H. Poincaré, E. N. Lorenz, I. Prigogine, etc. the term ‘chaos’ is used actively by representatives of various scientific fields; however, one important aspect remains uninvestigated: which attitude one should have toward chaotic phenomena. This is a philosophical question and my dissertation aims to find the answer in the history of philosophy, where chaos theme has had its investigators from ancient philosophy to the philosophical theories of the 21st century. My dissertation is (...) based on the idea that sciences and philosophy can achieve significant success in exploring chaos theme when their efforts are combined. This dissertation research is designed to help in the planning of conscious, rational actions towards chaotic phenomena, since it is aimed at exploration and systematic presentation, as well as comprehension of possible systems of such actions – philosophical strategies for interacting with chaos. -/- Results of the dissertation are the following. I reveal, reconstruct, and explain the content of six possible strategies for interacting with chaos that were worked out in history of philosophical thought: ordering, avoiding, transfiguring, preventing, controlling, and integrating. I argue that the first philosophical strategies for interacting with chaos were worked out in the 19th century by German philosophers K. W. F. Schlegel and F. W. Nietzsche on the basis of their rethinking the ideas which were expressed by different thinkers during classical antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the modern period. I show that ideas of strategic views towards chaos were also elaborated by such 20th-century thinkers as H. Rickert, N. Berdyaev, I. Prigogine, H. Haken, G. Deleuze, Q. Meillassoux, and others. I outline the main stages of the evolution of philosophical strategies for interacting with chaos as well as its regularities. The dissertation shows perspectives of further development of each one of the six strategies for interacting with chaos. -/- In contemporary scientific and philosophical research on chaos, my exploration contributes to the new approach to improving the understanding of aims of acts towards chaotic phenomena. I think that knowing a range of different strategic views of chaos help researchers of chaotic phenomena to choose the most appropriate and rational reactions. In the area of history of philosophy, my research contributes detailed data about development and conceptual transformations of the notion of ‘chaos’ through all periods of Western philosophy. -/- The dissertation consists of five chapters: 1) Literature Review, Methodology and Key Research Terms, 2) Ancient and Medieval Philosophical Ideas about Chaos, 3) Genesis of the First Strategies for Interacting with Chaos, 4) Strategies for Interacting with Chaos in the 20th and 21st Centuries, 5) Regularities and Prospects of the Development of Philosophical Strategies for Interacting with Chaos. In the first chapter I analyze more than five hundred books, articles, and other philosophical and scientific sources in which the chaos theme is raised. I also argue the necessity of applying methods such as analysis, the structural method, the hermeneutic method of interpretation, and the comparative method in my dissertation research. Moreover, in this chapter, I define key terms for my dissertation – ‘chaos’ and ‘philosophical strategies for interacting with chaos.’ -/- Then, in the next chapter, I analyze the appearance and development of Ancient and Medieval philosophical ideas about chaotic phenomena and order. Particularly, I explore thoughts of philosophers such as Anaxagoras, Anaximander, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Plato, Aristotle, Augustine of Hippo, Bernard Silvestris, Ramon Llull, etc. In this chapter I also compare the first Western ideas about chaos with similar thoughts from Eastern philosophy, analyzing Indian and Chinese philosophical ideas about disorder. -/- In the third chapter I explore transformations in understanding the meaning of the term ‘chaos’ in philosophy from the 15th to the end of the 19th century. I analyze ideas about chaos and order from thinkers such as M. Ficino, Paracelsus, F. Bacon, P. Bayle, Voltaire, J. G. Herder, I. Kant, F. W. J. Schelling and other philosophers from the Renaissance, the Age of Enlightenment, and the German idealist period, showing that these thinkers’ new approaches to interpreting the notion of ‘chaos’ were the background for K. W. F. Schlegel’s and F. W. Nietzsche’s creations of the first strategies for interacting with chaos in the 19th century. I finish the chapter with detailed analysis of K. W. F. Schlegel’s strategy for transfiguring chaos and F. W. Nietzsche’s strategy for ordering chaos. -/- The development of philosophical strategies for interacting with chaos in the 20th and the beginning of the 21st century is the topic of the fourth chapter. I research new ideas about ordering chaos (H. Rickert) and transfiguring chaos (N. Berdyaev). Also, I reveal thoughts about avoiding chaos (A. Camus), preventing chaos (J. Ortega y Gasset), integrating chaos (G. Deleuze, Q. Meillassoux). Moreover, I analyze a philosophical component of the strategy for chaos control (I. Prigogine, H. Haken). In the final fifth chapter of the dissertation I trace the major features of philosophical strategies for interacting with chaos and find out the main conditions and periods of their development. Then I outline the prospects for the development of the philosophical strategies for interacting with chaos and show the most productive ways of their progress. (shrink)

‘Greek Ethics’, an undergraduate class taught by the British moral philosopher N. J. H. Dent, introduced this reviewer to the ethical philosophy of ancient Greece. The class had a modest purview—a sequence of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle—but it proved no less effective, in retrospect, than more synoptic classes for having taken this apparently limited and (for its students and academic level) appropriate focus. This excellent Companion will now serve any such class extremely well, allowing students a broader exposure than (...) that traditional sequence, without sacrificing the class’s circumscribed focus. The eighteen chapters encompass some of what went before, and surprisingly much of what came after, those three central philosophers—including, for instance, a discussion of Plotinus and his successors, as well as a discussion of Horace. The book will therefore be useful in many different types of class on ethical philosophy in the ancient world. This Companion will be useful not only to students, but also to at least three further groups: specialists in ancient Greek philosophy (since some contributors advance significant new positions, e.g. R. Kamtekar on Plato’s ethical psychology and D. Charles on Aristotle’s ‘ergon argument’ as already implicitly invoking ‘to kalon’); scholars working in academic subjects adjacent to ancient Greek philosophy; and contemporary moral philosophers. (shrink)

Was heißt die existenziale Analytik? Um diese Grundfrage der Fundamentalontologie zu beantworten, geht der Autor von der Problematik des Ich-Sagens aus. Während der Marburger Vorlesungen entstand der Begriff Dasein durch Heideggers Umdeutung der aristotelischen Seele anhand des leiblich-lebensweltlichen Subjektivitätsbegriffs Husserls. Dabei entwickelte Heidegger mittels des Diltheyschen Begriffs Bedeutsamkeit das Noema als Zeug hermeneutisch weiter. Um das Sein eines Ich durch Handlungsprädikate auszulegen, ist es notwendig, mit der Bedeutsamkeit der Welt vorbegrifflich vertraut zu sein. Das Verstehen als Weltvertrautheit ist das Existenzial, (...) d. h. die Bedingung der Möglichkeit für das Ich-Sagen. So schlägt der Autor vor, die Schemata: Das Umwillen seiner , das Wovor und das Um-zu als Schematismus der Handlung zu deuten. Darüber hinaus wird untersucht, warum die geschichtliche Rationalität trotz seiner Aufnahme der praktischen Philosophie Aristoteles’ und Kants von Heidegger vernachlässigt wurde. (shrink)

Both Philip and Andrew are philosophy students whose interests converge around the philosophy of technology broadly understood. Philip's interest is specifically aimed toward the ethics of Transhumanism and depictions of Transhumanism in works of fiction. On the other hand, Andrew finds himself more focused on religious behavior in the technological world. While the two perspectives might not seem that close, there is certain to be an overlap in Andrew and Philip's shared understanding of how technological phenomena play a crucial role (...) concerning religion and society. (shrink)