Why Should Philosophers Care About Ancient Philosophy?

The apologist in the humanities springs forth as a perennial, an eager advocate for this old man or that classic tome, often as not incurring the wrath of modernity at least as great as his own love for antiquity.  Even these defenses of the humanities ––classics, philosophy and literature being closest to my heart–– have become treasured chestnuts: “It enriches the individual,” “Humanities matters for its own sake,” “It is the source of X or Y.”

Instead of these appeals, which, in my understanding, would only reach those already possessed of a humanistic sympathy, I wish to offer four pragmatic reasons to be interested in ancient philosophy.  These reasons are particularly addressed to those interested in philosophy, especially modern philosophers, whether professors or students or avid amateurs.

1) Ancient Philosophy is a 2,300 year old conversion with great minds.
While there are undoubtedly many great treatises that are being written, or have been in recent memory, there are a number of benefits from focusing on a field of study which has persisted through millennia.  As opposed, to say, Wittgenstein, who has had less than 100 years worth of great minds commenting and interacting with his work, Aristotle has had a prolonged engagement with generation upon generation of thinkers.  Augustine, Aquinas, Descartes, Hobbes, have all either borrowed, adapted, or explicitly confronted Aristotelean ideas.  These, fortunately, are only some of the philosophers who have gone to the mat with Aristotle; there are countless others, including commentators from late antiquity whose sole ambition was to write on Aristotle.  So two philosophical birds can be had with one stone: if you read other great philosophers on Aristotle, you get two great minds on worthwhile topics.

2) Ancient philosophy provides a common framework for philosophy.
If the definition of philosophy is frustratingly difficult to come by, perhaps we can at least have (or preserve) the canonical philosophy that the Greeks have given to us.  The questions about what is, how we ought to live, how we can know, are central to ancient philosophy, to be sure, but these inquiries continue to guide philosophy in modern intellectual contexts as well.  It is hard to imagine a philosophical question worth pursuing that does not first show up in the pages of Plato, even if it shows up in the philosophical master’s periphery and was not his whole landscape.

3) Ancient Philosophy offers a helping hand.
It is uncontroversial, I hope, to say that every age has its moral or intellectual blindspots.  There are problems we face and cannot solve precisely because we are the responsible party for the undetected arrival of the original difficulty. A benefit of ancient philosophy, however, is that, at the very least, these thinkers do not share the same handicaps that we do.  For their faults, whatever they are, they will not count among them either consumerism, political correctness, or technological worship.  What this means is that when it comes to overlapping philosophical interests, the ancients will have different perspectives and concerns than us, which in turn can provide us novel and insightful answers to the issues we think we have discovered for the first time.

4) Ancient Philosophy explains the ancient origins of modern philosophy.
Did you know that Aristotle gives philosophical reasons to adopt a systematics, that is, a system of animal classification, hundreds of years before Carl Linnaeus? [1] And that this system of classification was in direct response to competing Platonist classifications?  Although surprising, a seemingly “modern” area of philosophy such as the philosophy of biology was already blooming in ancient literature.  Similarly, although outdated in many parts, Aristotle’s Physics and Plato’s Timaeus offer compelling reasoning in such areas as the philosophy of time [2] and various elements of the cosmological argument.  Of course, metaphysics and ethics are plentiful in the Platonic and Aristotelean corpus, and never go out of style.  There are few, if any, books on ethics which can surpass the Nicomachean Ethics.  Even in logic [3] or philosophy of language [4] there is a robust fount of philosophy that began well before those influential modern disciplines, and still have much to offer for those willing to put in the time.


REFERENCES:

[1] See Parts of Animals, Book 1
[2] See Aristotle, Physics, Book 4, Ch. 1-14
[3] see Aristotle’s Organon
[4] The Organon once again, and Plato’s Cratylus)

Aristotle: Measuring Virtue by Pleasure

Aristotle’s Rhetoric is thought by many to be among his most polished works, yet it still can be a dry read for the technical jargon and lengthy list-like discussions found within it.  It also has, at least in part because of the poor, sophistical reputation that rhetoric, as a field, has acquired for itself, suffered a philosophical fate worse than it probably should have.

Nevertheless, because of the daunting enormity of the task in becoming virtuous according to Aristotelian rigor, in that one must possess all of the virtues and be virtuous in such a way that a given action is expressed spontaneously as a reflection of a developed character, I have begun to wonder if there is way to measure progress toward that goal.

One possibility occurred to me as I was reading the Rhetoric on the topic of pleasure.  Aristotle says, in enumerating the things that are pleasurable, that:

For the habitual [is pleasurable] as if it has already become to be by nature.  And a habit of a certain kind is like nature, for often is similar to always, and nature pertains to the always, while the habitual pertains to the often.  Furthermore the non-compulsory [is pleasurable] (Rhetoric, 1370a6-10). [1]

One notion that is assumed in this discussion is that the natural is pleasurable,[2] as can be inferred from this passage, but also from Aristotle’s remark that the non-compulsory is pleasurable.  Presumably then, the compulsory is not-pleasurable, nor natural, while the non-compulsory is natural, or can approach being natural (which always happens) by occurring “often” even if not “always.”

Thus for one practicing the Aristotelian virtues, a very pertinent question to ask oneself in  making ethical progress is whether or not you are experiencing pleasure while doing it.  If, during given instances of practicing character or intellectual virtues, you feel no pleasure, you have probably not achieved the ideal of virtue in that sphere.  Do you feel no spark of joy while performing what you know to be a just action?  Do you have no pleasure when an act of courage is called for?  Are you not pleased when acting prudently, and in general, avoiding the extremes of ethical endeavors, as opposed to the mean? Then it is perhaps necessary to re-evaluate the status of your ethical condition in general and in particulars.


 

REFERENCES:
[1] καὶ γὰρ τὸ εἰθισμένον ὥσπερ πεφυκὸς ἤδη γίγνεται·
ὅμοιον γάρ τι τὸ ἔθος τῇ φύσει· ἐγγὺς γὰρ καὶ τὸ πολλάκις
τῷ ἀεί, ἔστιν δ’ ἡ μὲν φύσις τοῦ ἀεί, τὸ δὲ ἔθος τοῦ πολ-
λάκις καὶ τὸ μὴ βίαιον (παρὰ φύσιν γὰρ ἡ βία, διὸ τὸ
ἀναγκαῖον λυπηρόν…

[2] Perhaps a contentious notion.  Also worth noting here is that although Aristotle will later deny that pleasure is a motion (NE 10.4.2), as he takes it to be here, I think this not relevant to the point I am making .

Aristotle’s Case Against Vegetarianism: Predator and Prey

If it is a given that man is an animal, as is so famously articulated in Aristotle’s famous dictum that man is a social animal, then there should be no good reason to exclude ideas which, in general, are meant to apply to man as an animal, from animals.  So in the case of vegetarianism: if there is an argument suitably argued against vegetarianism for animals qua animals then it will apply to man insofar as he is an animal as well.

This is the case in an interesting passage from the first book of Aristotle’s Politics.

For some animals, when they are created, at the outset bring forth with them in the process of creation (τοῖς γεννωμένοις) so much nourishment as is adequate until the time when the animal itself is able to provide for itself; for example those animals which have larvae or eggs. As many animals as give birth to live young, they have nourishment in themselves for a given time, the substance called milk.  So that clearly one must think that [there is nourishment] for the things which have been created (γενομένοις), plants on account of animals and the other animals for the sake of humans.  The tame animals are for the use and nourishment of mankind, while the wild ones, if not all, most of them, are on account of nourishment and help, in order that clothes and other tools come to be from these.  And therefore, if nature does nothing in vain or without a purpose, it is necessary that nature made all of these on account of humans (Translation mine, Aristotle, Politics, 1256b10-22) [1]

Aristotle, not uncharacteristically, is running together lines of thought, arguments and assumptions.  He begins from the idea that in nature when an animal is in the process of being former, it is supplied by nature with some form of physical sustenance, such as an egg providing not only a type of shelter but also some nutrition for the growing embryo.  To Aristotle, this is a universal feature for animal life; even in the case of animals which give birth to live young, their mothers are capable of lactation to provide this same sustenance in a different manner.  Thus, the thinking goes, when an animal is past the initial stage of life, nature would likewise still provide it with nourishment as when it has reached the point of maturity.

Latent within this passage is the idea that once nature has delivered an animal into its full physical maturity, it will have come to possess capabilities to procure food by its own means.[2]  Thus, there is still a need for food, but the initial form of food, such as a lactating mother, is not longer present for the animal.  The animal feels the urge to continue feeding, and in Aristotle’s mind, it has a natural instinct to seek those things which will best suit its appetite.  Among those things are both plants and animals.  Thus vegetarianism is ruled out, albeit Aristotle does need some detail work in explaining the nuances of this idea in full.

Lastly, there is the point made about nature doing nothing in vain.  What does he mean in applying that thought in this case?  (1) Either that nature does not bring an animal into maturity to just let it die since it has no way to get food (e.g. a human baby dies because it cannot find food); but this would be absurd.  (2) Or nature does not bring an animal into existence for it not be used in the proper way (i.e. cows are made for hamburgers, for leather, and for milk) (3) Or both, to put it somewhat directly, the predator and prey are made for a purpose, and both fulfill their roles.


REFERENCES:

[1]  καὶ γὰρ κατὰ τὴν ἐξ ἀρχῆς γένεσιν τὰ μὲν συνεκ- (10)
τίκτει τῶν ζῴων τοσαύτην τροφὴν ὥσθ’ ἱκανὴν εἶναι μέχρις
οὗ ἂν δύνηται αὐτὸ αὑτῷ πορίζειν τὸ γεννηθέν, οἷον ὅσα
σκωληκοτοκεῖ ἢ ᾠοτοκεῖ· ὅσα δὲ ζῳοτοκεῖ, τοῖς γεννωμένοις
ἔχει τροφὴν ἐν αὑτοῖς μέχρι τινός, τὴν τοῦ καλουμένου γά-
λακτος φύσιν. ὥστε ὁμοίως δῆλον ὅτι καὶ γενομένοις οἰη- (15)
τέον τά τε φυτὰ τῶν ζῴων ἕνεκεν εἶναι καὶ τὰ ἄλλα ζῷα
τῶν ἀνθρώπων χάριν, τὰ μὲν ἥμερα καὶ διὰ τὴν χρῆσιν
καὶ διὰ τὴν τροφήν, τῶν δ’ ἀγρίων, εἰ μὴ πάντα, ἀλλὰ
τά γε πλεῖστα τῆς τροφῆς καὶ ἄλλης βοηθείας ἕνεκεν, ἵνα
καὶ ἐσθὴς καὶ ἄλλα ὄργανα γίνηται ἐξ αὐτῶν. εἰ οὖν ἡ (20)
φύσις μηθὲν μήτε ἀτελὲς ποιεῖ μήτε μάτην, ἀναγκαῖον
τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἕνεκεν αὐτὰ πάντα πεποιηκέναι τὴν φύσιν.

[2]  Unsurprisingly, Aristotle will include hunting among the means.