Aristotle claims that the citizens of the best city should be both intelligent and spirited at Politics VII.7 1327b19-38. While he treats intelligence as an unqualified good, thumos is valuable but problematic. This paper has two aims: to consider the political value of spirit in Aristotle’s Politics and in particular to identify the ways in which it is both essential to political excellence and yet insufficient for securing it, and to use this analysis of the role of spirit in (...) the political realm to explain Aristotle’s exclusion of women from political authority, even in the context of the household. I analyze spirit as a physical phenomenon and as a type of desire, before considering its moral and affective aspects. I then return to the role of spirit in political life and examine its importance for the activity of ruling. In the last section I consider the implications of this analysis of spirit for the social and political roles Aristotle assigns to men and women. (shrink)

Résumé — Dans cet article, je montre que l’une des fonctions de la tragédie est de procurer un entraînement au thumos , en l’habituant à devenir amical plutôt qu’agressif envers les philoi . Je donne d’abord un bref aperçu des thèses sur le thumos exposées dans les œuvres éthiques et politiques d’Aristote. Ensuite, j’étudie la relation entre le thumos et les actes de violence entre proches, qui constituent le sujet de la tragédie, en montrant comment la pitié (...) et la crainte ressenties en réponse à ces actions peuvent aider à restreindre la tendance, associée à un thumos excessif, à blesser ses propres philoi. Je conclus en étudiant une thèse défendue par John Cooper en 1996, selon laquelle l’objet des désirs du thumos d’une personne vertueuse est le kalon, ce qui est à la fois noble et beau en un sens esthétique, car possédant ordre, symétrie, et délimitation. En m’appuyant sur les thèses de Cooper, je soutiens que les propriétés formelles de l’intrigue tragique, son ordre, sa symétrie et sa délimitation, ne procurent pas seulement un plaisir esthétique, mais qu’elles aident aussi à habituer le thumos à désirer et à prendre plaisir à ce qui est noble.— I argue in this article that one function of tragedy is to provide training for the thumos , habituating it to become friendly rather than aggressive toward philoi . I first provide a brief survey of the views on thumos expressed in Aristotle’s ethical and political works. Next, I study the relationship between thumos and the violent acts among kin that are subject matter of tragedy, suggesting ways in which pity and fear felt in response to these actions can help to restrain the tendency, associated with excessive thumos, to harm one’s own philoi. I conclude by studying an argument made by John Cooper in 1996 that the object of the thumos desires of the virtuous person is le kalon, that which is noble and at the same time beautiful in an aesthetic sense, having order, symmetry and determinateness. Building on Cooper’s ideas, I contend that the format properties of the tragic plot, its order, symmetry and determinateness, not only give aesthetic pleasure, but also help to habituate the thumos to desire and take pleasure in what is noble. (shrink)

Broadly speaking, something can be called intermediate for Plato insofar as it occupies a place between two objects, poles, places, time, or principles. But this broad meaning of the intermediate has been eclipsed by the Aristotelian critique of the intermediate objects of the dianoia, so that it has become more difficult to think of the intermediates as functions of the soul. The aim of this paper is to show how, in the Republic, thumos is analogously treated as an intermediate (...) with other kinds of intermediate objects, and tentatively to relate this psychological intermediate in a broader theory with doxa, as its epistemological ground in the course of action. (shrink)

This contribution to the Common Knowledge symposium “Peace by Other Means” argues that the drive for self-esteem, achieved by gaining honor or standing, has been a root cause of violent conflict and war throughout history and that peace-making that does not take account of what the Greeks called thumos is bound to fail. Using an original data set of all wars since 1648 involving great or rising powers, the essay shows how wars associated with honor, standing, and revenge, all (...) expressions of thumos, far outnumber those caused by security or material concerns. At the same time, it is argued, diplomacy and the theory of international relations have turned increasingly toward belief that conflicts are resolved only by negotiation based on the rational consideration of material interests. The author concludes that conflict resolution needs to rethink its presumptions in comparison with those of Greco-Latin literature and philosophy. (shrink)

_Retrieving Political Emotion _engages the reader in an excursion through our ancient Greek heritage to recover a concept of emotion useful for enriching political philosophy today. Focusing on _thumos_, Barbara Koziak reveals misinterpretations of the concept that have hampered recognition of its possibilities for normative theory. Then, drawing especially on Aristotle's construal of it as a general capacity for emotion and relating this to contemporary multidisciplinary work on emotion, she reformulates _thumos_ to provide a more adequate theory of political emotion, (...) as an antidote to the modern fixation on rational self-interest as the key to explaining political behavior. The book proceeds by recounting the way _thumos_ is used in Homer's _Iliad_ and Plato's _Republic_ and then showing how, while borrowing from both, Aristotle went substantially beyond them. From the _Nicomachean Ethics and Politics_ we can see the activity of _thumos_—how a person with good _thumos_ acts and through which institutions. Through the _Poetics_ we observe the characteristic disposition of _thumos_—what patterns and objects typify a person's emotional capacity in the best regime. Her reconstructed Aristotelian theory of political emotion allows Koziak in the concluding chapter to show how it can help us better understand political behavior today, as manifested in recent congressional debates on welfare reform, and through constructive engagement with feminist thinking on the "ethics of care" lead political theory to pay more attention to the importance of passions in political life. (shrink)

This paper argues that Aristotelian thumos is a non-reducible mental phenomenon that plays a central role in Aristotle’s theory of the mind, motivation, and action. For Aristotle, thumos is not primarily, as others have argued, a desire for the noble, social appraisal, or retaliation; rather, it is an inner drive or impulse to act. More precisely, it is an executory urge to implement or enact one’s ends or goals, whatever they are. Thumos accounts for someone’s proneness to (...) spring into action and can contribute to bringing about rational or non-rational, first-order desires. It is a second-order motivation, which both human and non-human animals have and that comes in degrees: we can be more or less thumotic, which amounts to being more or less disposed to making first-order desires effective so that they issue in actions. Aristotelian thumos, then, anticipates features of the modern notion of the will. Along the way, I argue that thumos is key to Aristotle’s efforts to differentiate and hierarchically organize species, characters, genders, and peoples. (shrink)

What is Aristotle’s conception of thumos? This question can be broken down into two separate but related questions: what is the object of desire for thumos, and in which faculty of the soul is thumos grounded? The latter question is the focus of this paper. In this paper, “grounded in” is to be taken physiologically; the second question can be rephrased as “Which faculty of the soul is thumos a function of?” As a general rule Aristotle (...) employs both a colloquial and a technical sense of thumos throughout the corpus. When I ask “What is thumos?,” I am interested in the technical sense that appears primarily in On the Soul and in the Nicomachean Ethics, where thumos is defined as a category of desire. The main argument of this paper is that Aristotle’s thumos is grounded in the faculty of phantasia – specifically, a sub-faculty called definite phantasia. (shrink)

One of three basic types of desire, claims Aristotle, is thumos (‘spirit,’ ‘passion,’ ‘heart,’ ‘anger,’ ‘impulse’). The other two are epithumia (‘appetite’) and boulêsis (‘wish,’ ‘rational desire’). Yet, he never gives us an account of thumos; it has also received relatively little scholarly attention. I argue that thumos has two key features. First, it is able to cognize what I call ‘social value,’ the agent’s own perceived standing relative to others in a certain domain. In human animals, (...) shame and honor are especially important manifestations of social value. Second, thumos provides non-rational motivation to pursue what affirms the agent’s social value and avoid what denies it. Interpretations that hold thumos just is anger, or that its object is the fine (kalon), I argue, are mistaken. My account also explains the role of thumos in moral education. In a virtuous agent thumos will be affectively attuned to the correct social rankings; it will take the practically wise, the lovers of the fine, or moral exemplars, as authorities. (shrink)

At EN VII.6 1149a24-b3, Aristotle offers an argument for the conclusion that akrasia due to thumos is less shameful than akrasia due to epithumia. The reasoning in this argument is obscure, for Aristotle makes two claims in particular that are difficult to understand; first, that in some way thumos “hears” reason when it leads to akrasia, and second, that thumos responds to what it hears “as if having syllogized” to a conclusion about how to act. This paper (...) argues that previous attempts to understand these two points have failed. It offers an account of the first difficult claim, but concludes there is not enough material in the text to determine what Aristotle means when he says thumos responds “as if having syllogized”. Nevertheless, the paper ends by offering an account of this remark that is Aristotelian in inspiration, even though it admittedly goes beyond anything that can be gleaned from the text. (shrink)

Barbara Koziak’s wide-ranging Retrieving Political Emotion: Thumos, Aristotle, and Gender criticizes political theory for sidelining emotion and develops an account of political emotion based on Aristotle’s treatment of thumos. Koziak hopes her project will be of particular interest to feminist political theorists—both women and emotion having been badly served by history and often on the basis of a supposed link between being female and being emotional. For, contrary to the scholarly opinion that thumos is the particular trait (...) of spiritedness, Koziak argues that in Aristotle, it is the capacity for emotion in general which, in Aristotle’s psychology, is responsive to reason. What are the consequences of this conception of emotion for politics? Aristotle directs us to educate, rather than ignore or repress, the emotions—not only the aggressive emotions already cultivated by institutions such as the military or the disagreeable emotions of “managed despair, imaginative fear, bourgeois anger, and sexual dread” employed in welfare reform rhetoric, but also pity, sympathy, generosity, and friendship. We may also follow Aristotle in evaluating social arrangements in terms of the emotions they support or hinder: for example, Aristotle argues for private property on the grounds that one needs to have something of one’s own to give away in order to practice generosity, and, as a moral virtue, generosity has a necessary emotional content ; again, he argues against big economic disparities because they create “unfortunate emotions, specifically the emotions of arrogance, malice, envy, and contempt”. An Aristotelian conception of emotion also helps us to acknowledge the emotional “labor”, usually performed by women, which holds society together. Finally, the insights of care feminism can be incorporated into and justified by an Aristotelian framework. Although Koziak’s work opens up many avenues for discussion, I will here concentrate on three: the complaints about political theory’s marginalization of emotion that motivate her book, her interpretation of thumos in Plato, and her appropriation of an Aristotelian conception of the emotions for contemporary purposes. (shrink)

Questo articolo presenta un quadro dei problemi che il frammento B85DK di Eraclito solleva e delle interpretazioni antiche e moderne che sono state suggerite. In particolare, è esaminata la testimonianza di Aristotele, la più antica e anche la più profonda e articolata. Una panoramica sui significati di thumos, punto centrale del frammento, mostra che per Aristotele questo concetto non si esaurisce nel pathos dell’ira. Il thumos è in primo luogo una dunamis, una facoltà dell’anima che rende possibile non (...) solo il pathos, l’affezione passeggera dell’ira, ma anche il coraggio, l’impulsività, l’affetto, il senso della libertà e dell’autorità. Questa nozione aristotelica, così ricca e polimorfica da sottrarsi a una traduzione unica esaustiva, proviene in realtà dalla sistematizzazione di un materiale molto antico, omerico e presocratico, legato ai proverbi. Eraclito stesso ne offre già una formulazione che sintetizza due aspetti che Aristotele accoglie e sottolinea: la forza irresistibile e inarrestabile dello slancio impulsivo naturale, una volta che sia stato innescato, e l'estrema conseguenza a cui puo' portare, e cioè la perdita della vita stessa. (shrink)

In a recent article, C. H. Kahn addresses an ‘old scholarly myth’, namely the idea that Book I of the Republic began life as an earlier, independent dialogue and was subsequently adapted to serve as a prelude to the much longer work that we know. The case for this hypothesis rests both on stylometric considerations and on the many ‘Socratic’ features that Book I, unlike the rest of the Republic, shares with Plato's earlier works. Having disposed of the positive arguments (...) in favour of the ‘myth’, Kahn turns to the contrary—and in his view overwhelming—evidence that Book I was composed from the start as an integral part of the longer Republic. He catalogues 12 passages in Book I, accounting for roughly half its length, whose full significance will, he argues, only emerge if they are seen as instances of prolepsis, deliberate anticipations of what is to come in later books. (shrink)

Research has shown that the knowledge worker, the decisive driver of the knowledge economy, works increasingly longer hours. In fact, it would appear that instead of working to live, they live to work. There appears to be three reasons for this living-to-work development. First, the knowledge worker ‘has to’ on account of the pressure to become ever more efficient. Such pressure translates into internalized coercion in the case of the self-responsible knowledge worker. Secondly, working is constant, because the Internet and (...) smart technologies and mobile devices have made it ‘possible’. It gives the worker the capacity and management omnipotent control. In the final instance, the neoliberal knowledge worker works all the time because s/he paradoxically ‘wants to’. It is a curious phenomenon, because this compulsive working is concomitant with a rise of a host of physical, emotional, and psychological disorders as well as the erosion of social bonds. The paradox is exacerbated by the fact that the knowledge worker does not derive any of the usual utilities or satisfactions associated with hard work. Elsewhere I have ascribed this apparent contradiction at the heart of the living-to-work phenomenon to the invisible thumotic satisfaction generated by knowledge work. In the present article, I argue that neoliberal governmentality has found a way to tether thumos directly to the profit incentive. I draw on Foucault’s 1978-1979 Collége de France lecture course in which he analysed neoliberal governmentality with specific emphasis on the work of the neoliberal theorist of human capital, Gary Becker. (shrink)

Josh Wilburn examines the relationship between Plato's views on psychology and his political philosophy. Focusing on his reflections on the spirited part of the tripartite soul, or thumos, and spirited motivation, he explores the social and political challenges that occupy Plato throughout his works.

This paper responds to two trends in debates about Plato's view of women in the Republic. First, many scholars argue or assume that Plato seeks to minimize the influence of femininity in the ideal city, and to make guardian women themselves as “masculine” as possible. Second, scholars who address the relationship between Plato's views of women and his psychological theory tend to focus on the reasoning and appetitive parts of the tripartite soul. In response to the first point, we argue (...) that the idea that Plato seeks to masculinize/de-feminize the city oversimplifies his treatment of Greek gender norms. Although he does want to eliminate some traditionally feminine qualities from the city, he also seeks to eliminate many masculine qualities as well. Moreover, while he tries to make guardian women more like men in some respects, he simultaneously aims to make guardian men more like Greek women in important ways. Regarding the second point, we argue that this project of reimagining gender norms is illuminated by Plato's psychology, but instead of emphasizing reason and appetite, we show how his views are connected to his account of the third, “spirited” part of the soul, thumos, and its dual hard/soft or aggressive/gentle nature. (shrink)

The paper argues that thumos, which is never explicitly mentioned as a part of the soul in the Symposium, plays a major role in the dialogue. In light of the Republic’s characterization of thumos as the source of emotions such as of love of honor, love of victory, admiration for courage, shame, anger, and the propensity to become indignant at real or imaginary wrongs, the paper argues that both Phaedrus’ speech and the speech of Alcibiades are shaped by (...) thumoeidetic motivations. While Phaedrus’ stress on shame, honor, glory and courage aims at proving that Eros inspires virtue, the speech of Alcibiades shows that thumoeidetic motivations are not sufficient to shape a noble character. The dependence on recognition, the ambiguous role played by shame, and the tension between what is admirable and what just happens to be admired are implicit shortcomings in Phaedrus’ speech. When the same themes come back in Alcibiades’ speech they work as negative counterpoints to Phaedrus’ main arguments. Alcibiades’ obsession with power and victory dominates his ambivalent encomium of Socrates. The speech does not reveal who Socrates really is. Rather, it shows how the philosophical life can be misunderstood when reason’s best ally takes over in the souls of men. (shrink)

Aristotle's claim that natural slaves do not possess autonomous rationality (Pol. 1.5, 1254b20-23) cannot plausibly be interpreted in an unrestricted sense, since this would conflict with what Aristotle knew about non-Greek societies. Aristotle's argument requires only a lack of autonomous practical rationality. An impairment of the capacity for integrated practical deliberation, resulting from an environmentally induced excess or deficiency in thumos (Pol. 7.7, 1327b18-31), would be sufficient to make natural slaves incapable of eudaimonia without being obtrusively implausible relative to (...) what Aristotle is likely to have believed about non-Greeks. Since Aristotle seems to have believed that the existence of people who can be enslaved without injustice is a hypothetical necessity, if those capable oí eudaimonia are to achieve it, the existence of natural slaves has implications for our understanding of Aristotle's natural teleology. (shrink)

In this paper, I provide an interpretation of Plato’s repeated claims in Republic V that women are “weaker” (asthenestera) than men. Specifically, I argue that Plato thinks women have a psychological propensity to get easily dispirited, which makes them less effective in implementing and executing their rational decisions. This interpretation achieves several things. It qualifies Plato’s position regarding women and their position in the polis. It provides the background against which we can interpret Aristotle’s claim in Politics I that women (...) possess a deliberative capacity that is not authoritative (akuron). It expands our understanding of the nature and role of spirit (thumos) in these authors. And, finally, it gives us insight into a kind of moral-psychological success that Plato and Aristotle consider central to both personal and political agency. (shrink)

Following Part I, this essay (Part II) continues my attempt to develop an ontology of peace by drawing resources from Ricœur’s thought. I begin with Augustine, Dionysius, and Aquinas to show that peace is not contrary to our humanity but is a natural desire that runs with the grain of our being. This account is complicated by the category of the irascible, however, which Ricœur interprets as an appetite for difficulty, suggesting the human desire for peace is not directly continuous (...) with the simple animal desire for rest and repose. Instead, there is a fundamental conflict at the heart of human being, which Ricœur identifies as thumos. I argue that thumos is not opposed to peace, but instead plays the essential role of mobilizing peace, just as it mobilizes other virtues like courage, moderation, and justice. Moreover, the right ordering of thumos does not eliminate the constitutive conflict of the self; right ordering is right conflict, with the right proportion of the disproportion of finite and infinite. As a result, this essay deepens our understanding of peace as more than rest and repose, and in turn also deepens our understanding of what rest is—in faith and hope as the finely tuned affective tension that makes up the self. (shrink)

The spirited part, thumos, plays a complex and often disputed role in Plato's account of the soul. The doctrine of the soul as specifically tri‐partitioned seems to depend on a substantial conception of thumos as fundamental and non‐reducible. Building on John Cooper's contribution in the discussion of the topic, this article aims to show that the role of thumos is characterised by an indispensable, deep‐rooted urge for dignified self‐preservation. The view is supported by Plato's own examples, and (...) discussed with regards to Myles Burnyeat's account of thumos as an essentially social phenomenon. The main claim is that in order to preserve the Platonist idea of thumos as fundamental one should discard Burnyeat's characterisation of thumos as unequivocally social, and instead advocate a view of thumos as concerned with a particular form of self‐preservation, which Cooper's account suggests, but does not fully elaborate. (shrink)

Desire is a central concept in Aristotle's ethical and psychological works, but he does not provide us with a systematic treatment of the notion itself. This book reconstructs the account of desire latent in his various scattered remarks on the subject and analyses its role in his moral psychology. Topics include: the range of states that Aristotle counts as desires ; objects of desire and the relation between desires and envisaging prospects; desire and the good; Aristotle's three species of desire: (...) epithumia, thumos and boulêsis ; Aristotle's division of desires into rational and non-rational; Aristotle and some current views on desire; and the role of desire in Aristotle's moral psychology. The book will be of relevance to anyone interested in Aristotle's ethics or psychology. (shrink)

This paper attempts a detailed and in-depth examination of the particular case of Thrasymachus’ behavior. Our attempt is not to provide a consistent analysis and interpretation of Thrasymachus’ account of justice, but to present his rhetorical skills. In particular, the aim of this paper is to provide an account of behavior as an essential parameter in his teaching of rhetoric. Plato’s choice of Thrasymachus in order to confront Socrates is not a random one. He chooses a renowned Sophist in the (...) art of rhetoric, who places great emphasis on the release of emotions in rhetorical speech. Against this backdrop, following Thrasymachus’ arguments and behavior, we might configure his pedagogical method of teaching rhetoric. (shrink)

When Aristotle limits the manifestation of true courage to the military context only, his primary target is an overly inclusive conception of courage presented by Plato in the Laches. At the same time, Aristotle explicitly tries to demarcate his ideal of genuine courage from the paradigmatic examples of courageous actions derived from the Homeric epics. It remains questionable, though, whether Aristotle is truly earnest in his efforts to distance himself from Homer. It will be argued that Aristotle's attempt to associate (...) with Homer the two forms of specious courage—courage of the citizen troops and spirit-caused courage—fails to provide sufficient criteria for the demarcation in question. All the essential elements of the Aristotelian account of courage, such as a voluntary choice, a noble goal, and a thumos-driven reaction guided by reason are exemplified by a number of Homeric characters as well. It is thus likely that the philosopher's account of courage largely incorporates the poetic tradition at a new level, rather than supersedes it. (shrink)

In this paper I examine the account of courage offered in Books 3 and 4 of the Republic and consider its relation to the account of courage and cowardice found in the final argument of the Protagoras. I defend two main lines of thought. The first is that in the Republic Plato does not abandon the Protagoras’ view that all cases of cowardice involve mistaken judgment or ignorance about what is fearful. Rather, he continues to treat cowardly behavior as an (...) indication that, at least at the time of action, the agent lacked correct belief about what is best and least fearful. The evidence for this view will include an argument that what it means for the thumoeides to ‘preserve what is announced by rational accounts’ in the Republic is for it to prevent the fluctuation or corruption of reasoning under the deceptive influence of appetite. Second, I will argue that the Protagoras anticipates this account of courage in important ways. In particular, it draws attention to the problematic instability of belief and adumbrates the need for something like the spirited element of our psychology. According to my interpretation, the Republic’s account of courage is an elaboration or supplementation of the Protagoras’ account, rather than a rejection of it. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 124.1 (2003) 143-146 [Access article in PDF] William V. Harris. Restraining Rage: The Ideology of Anger Control in Classical Antiquity. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2001. xii + 468 pp. Cloth, $49.95. It is a mark of evolving interests in the discipline that a well-known ancient historian should choose to write a major book on the ancient understanding of a single emotion. This reflects both (...) an ever-widening conception of what social history can include (and of how social and political history are interconnected) and the intense study in recent years of ancient ideas about the nature and therapy of the emotions, especially in Hellenistic and Roman philosophy. This book combines specificity of focus with breadth of evidence examined. The topic is not just anger but, more precisely, the ideology, broadly understood, of anger control. The evidence discussed ranges from Homer to early Christian ideas in late antiquity; it embraces literature, historiography, and philosophy, among much else. The combination of a single line of enquiry and comprehensiveness of material is crucial to the character and value of this study.The project of the book can be defined more exactly. Harris sets out to examine the evidence for ancient thought about anger and to contextualize it, placing it in a socially oriented history of ideas. This project explains the structure of the book. Part 1 considers the relevant material, above all the Hellenistic-Roman philosophical treatises on control of anger, and explores questions of method and approach. Key points include the difference between Greek or Roman and modern English vocabulary, such as the Greek distinction between violent temper ( orge \) and "spirit" or impulse ( thumos), and the importance of placing the Hellenistic treatises in a developing tradition of emotional self-control from the fifth century B.C. onwards. Part 2, the largest, connects Greco-Roman thought about the restraint of anger with salient features of political and social structure; this is extended, in part 3, to family life and the treatment of slaves. Part 4 returns to ancient ideas, especially in philosophy, about anger as a "sickness of soul" to be treated by "therapy"; these ideas are now placed within a larger history of anger control from archaic Greece to late antiquity.Inevitably, with a topic of such breadth, some of the discussion surveys material examined more fully by scholars writing from more specialist standpoints. This is so, for instance, in the review of philosophical ideas on control of anger in chapters 6 and 14-15 (though these ideas have not, I think, been assembled before in a single study). The main originality of the book lies in the social contextualization of ideas, particularly in parts 2 and 3. Here, a set of substantively new claims are offered, bearing especially on the explanation of the [End Page 143] prominence of the theme of anger control in Greek and Roman culture. For instance, the presentation of Achilles' rage in the Iliad as intensely problematic, taken with the more positive characterization of Odysseus' revenge (which depends on restraint of anger) in the Odyssey, is seen as expressing a growing awareness of the dangers of heroic or kingly rage in a period (ca. 700 B.C.) when the Greek archaic city-states were emerging from their pre-polis form (chapter 7, especially 145-46). Analogously, the preoccupation with the destructive impact of violent anger ( orge \) and the reiterated stress on emotional control ( so \ phrosune \) in the fifth and fourth centuries B.C., in contexts such as drama, historiography, and oratory, are taken as integral elements of the growth of cooperative life in the polis. Harris draws on Norbert Elias's thesis that the internalisation of doctrines restraining the motives (including anger) that generate violent aggression constitutes a key part of the development of civilized society (150).A comparably wide range of sources is reviewed for Roman attitudes; much of the evidence is drawn from the late Republic, a period when violent anger played a major role in the disruption of social and political order—although this connection is not... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 123.2 (2002) 293-297 [Access article in PDF] Angela Hobbs. Plato and the Hero: Courage, Manliness, and the Impersonal Good. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. xviii + 280 pp. Cloth, $59.95. Hobbs directs this stimulating but rather unfocused study to a question of considerable interest and centrality in Platonic studies: the engagement of Platonic texts with the traditional Greek ethic of heroic endeavor. As she is (...) able to show, the Platonic texts appropriate much of the traditional language and ideology familiar from archaic literature to a new paradigm in which the eccentric [End Page 293] figure of Socrates is the exemplar. Hobbs emphasizes the rhetorical value of this approach, in that it could help to make the image of philosophy accessible and appealing to the young men whom Plato wished to attract as students and colleagues at the Academy. She points to the difficulties of this appropriation, however; and more can be said about the problems that it poses for Platonic rhetoric.The most cogent and interesting analysis in the book is dedicated to the Republic. Hobbs is able to show the connection between traditional concepts of andreia and the function of the soldier class of the ideal city, the thumoeideis. She traces to a common source the apparently various aspects of Plato's thumos and its corresponding social class—readiness to anger, concern for social status, an intense sense of shame, and indignation at unfairness. Platonic thumos represents "the need to form an ideal image of the self in accordance with one's conception of the fine and noble [kalon]." When the image is threatened, "anger, self-disgust and shame are likely to be the result. This ideal of oneself also needs to be confirmed by social recognition: others must treat one in accordance with one's self-image" (30).Hobbs demonstrates that the susceptibility of the thumos element to the kalon is key to the training of the guardian class from childhood, when intellectual understanding is less developed. She has interesting things to say about the role of the kalon in the value schemes of the Republic and Symposium (222-31), arguing that, as a Form, it must ultimately be identical with the Good (agathon), but that the kalon, because of its greater accessibility to an undeveloped intellect, is an easier way to begin the ascent toward the ideal. She effectively connects the concept of the thymoeidic personality to the description of the timocratic man in Republic 8.549c-550b, and, in the middle chapters of the book, to Callicles in the Gorgias, whose motivation, she argues, is primarily thymoeidic or timocratic, since he values sensual indulgence primarily as a token of the power and autonomy desired by the lover of prestige.While Hobbs is certainly right to use Achilles as the exemplar of the traditional ethic that Plato confronts, she is less successful in arguing that Achilles is a central figure in the Republic. In fact, as she points out, he disappears altogether from the myth of Er, where he is replaced by Aias. Achilles cannot be connected with the Platonic concept of thumos in its positive aspects once it has been argued that he is depicted as greedy and impious (390e, 391c). A number of Hobbs's other claims, that Platonic texts identify Socrates with Odysseus, or that Achilles performs his heroic acts through fear of death, are not supported by an adequate textual analysis. Hobbs tends to push a single allusion out of its context to reach extreme speculative conclusions. That Socrates in the Protagoras (315b9 and c8) quotes Odysseus' words ("And then I noted him," "And I also saw Tantalus") as he lists famous figures in Hades does not necessarily mean that Socrates becomes an Odysseus figure: such an identification would require more than these passing allusions, which function quite sufficiently as an ironic comment on the viewing of celebrities. That Homer's Achilles refers to the bleakness [End Page 294] of life in the underworld or emphasizes what he loses by his heroic choice does not mean that... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Plato and the PoetsCatalin ParteniePierre Destrée and Fritz-Gregor Herrmann, editors. Plato and the Poets. Mnemosyne Supplements: Monographs on Greek and Latin Language and Literature, 328. Leiden-Boston: Brill, 2011. Pp. xxii + 434. Cloth, $217.00.This beautifully produced volume is a collection of nineteen essays, half of them being initially presented as papers given at a 2006 conference in Louvain. Seven chapters focus on the Republic and address a variety (...) of issues: the ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry (Glenn W. Most); Plato’s criticism of poetry and his negative attitude toward women (Penelope Murray); mimêsis as appearance-making (Gabriel Richardson); the meaning of mimêsis (Jera Marušič); Plato’s criticism and appreciation of poetry (Stephen Halliwell); thumos and the criticism of poetry (Pierre Destrée); painting, poetry, and the cognitive division of the soul (Rachel Singpurwalla). One chapter deals with myth, invented story, and true account in the Timaeus (Gretchen Reydams-Schils). Two are devoted to the Laws—mimetic correctness and choric poetry (Antony Hatzistavrou), and tragedy and philosophy (Susan Sauvé Meyer). The remaining nine chapters deal with other dialogues, although they are often discussed in connection with the Republic; the topics they discuss include: theia moira, enthousiasmos, and mimêsis in Gorgias (Fritz-Gregor Herrmann); divine possession, inspiration, and mimêsis in Ion and Republic (with references to Plato’s entire corpus, Catherine Collobert); the poet and the rhapsode as hermêneus in Ion (Carlotta Capuccino); the poet, the mad lover, and the mad philosopher as the true interpreter in Ion and Phaedrus (Francisco Gonzalez); inspiration and Plato’s psychology in Ion, Phaedrus, Politicus, Philebus, Timaeus (Stefan Büttner); theia moira in Ion and Meno, and the poets’ incomplete ascension in Symposium (Dominic Scott); Plato’s use of poetry and poets in Symposium (Elizabeth Bel-fiore); poetry and image-making in Republic and Sophist (Noburu Notomi); and poetry, the tripartition of the soul and the Form of Beauty in Phaedrus (Elizabeth Pender).As Stephen Halliwell put it in his essay, there is the seemingly Platonic attitude “which criticizes, censors and even ‘banishes’ poets, and which speaks in terms of unmasking the false pretensions and the damaging influence of poetry. But there is also the Platonic stance which never ceases to allow the voices of poetry to be heard in Plato’s own writing, which presupposes not only extensive knowledge but also ‘love’ of poetry on the part of Plato’s readers, and which at certain key junctures claims for itself nothing less than the status of a new kind of philosophical poetry and art: the status, indeed, of ‘the greatest music’ [Phaedo 61a; cf. Phaedrus 248d, 259b] and even of ‘the finest and best tragedy’ [Laws 817b]” (241). All the contributors address, in one way or another, the puzzling contrast between these two views on poetry. Halliwell, for instance, claims that Book X of the Republic “offers not a simple repudiation of the best poets but a complicated counterpoint in which resistance and attraction to their work are intertwined, a counterpoint which (among other things) explores the problem of whether, and in what sense, it might be possible to be a ‘philosophical lover’ of poetry” (244). While Most argues that “there is little or no evidence for any consciousness” of a generic opposition between philosophy and poetry tout court before Plato, “this opposition may even be in the process of being constructed” in his Republic (19) (Notomi, too, discusses this topic, and refers to the view according to which the “ancient quarrel” was Plato’s invention). [End Page 291]In reading the nineteen essays of this volume, one realizes that in Plato there is not just one poetics, or two contrasting views on poetry, but—as the editors put it—“several models of what poetry is and what the poets do” (xxii). One would have liked that these several models be explicitly discussed in a concluding chapter. The editors, however, acknowledge that neither they nor their authors aimed at achieving a unified vision of the subject: “While certain recurring themes crystallize themselves with increasing complexity in the course of the various discussions, there remain both contradictions and incompatibilities between results... (shrink)

Em breve “diálogo” com dois textos do Prof. John Cooper, este artigo trata um aspecto particular da relação entre os tratamentos da “alma”, principalmente, no Livro IV da República de Platão; e por Aristóteles no De anima, na Retórica e nos tratados éticos. Para Platão, a alma humana representa a combinação de três elementos, partes ou fatores - logistikon, thumoeides, epithumêtikon -, comparáveis a um homem, um leão e um monstro e respectivamente associados a ações causadas pela razão, pelo “ (...) class='Hi'>thumos” ou por nossos apetites. A tripartição é uma ideia dominante pelo menos em contextos relacionados à psicologia moral e à explicação da ação nos diálogos platônicos a partir da República. Não há grande interesse de Aristóteles pelas “partes” da alma, mas pelo menos no contexto ético há alguma tendência a dividir a alma, se bem que apenas por analogia, e divide frequentemente o desejo em três subtipos - boulêsis, thumos e epithumia. Contudo, naqueles textos aristotélicos que se preocupam mais diretamente com a psicologia moral, isto é, os tratados éticos e a Retórica, o que realmente mais chama a atenção é, acima de tudo, a ausência da tripartição da alma. Para Aristóteles, não há muita utilidade para qualquer ideia de “partes” da alma no sentido platônico. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:On the Fifth Stasimon of Euripides' MedeaCharles SegalAmong the lyrics of extant Greek tragedy several passages of Euripides are remarkable for the effects of pathos achieved by introducing children. In Alcestis the children of the protagonists appear unexpectedly on the stage and sing a strophic lament over their dead mother, punctuated by two trimeters of Admetus sharing their grief (392-415). Suppliants presents an even longer and more complex choral (...) lament as Euadne's now orphaned children join with the chorus in a commatic, antiphonal thrēnos for their mother (1123-64).1 Their appearance not only adds to the sudden flurry of new characters when the play is already nearing its end (Euadne enters at 990 and her father Iphis at 1034) but also fills out the panorama of lament at the end of the play: children and a father lament over a mother and a daughter who chose a heroic death, and the Argive children, thanks to Theseus, can lament over the bodies of their slain warrior fathers (Supp. 1114-75). The parallelism helps emphasize the heroism of Euadne, one of several self-sacrificing women in these so-called political plays.Euripides obtains another kind of pathos by the offstage cries of Medea's children at the moment of their murder. In an initial strophe and antistrophe the chorus of Corinthian women expresses its horror at the imminent slaughter and speculates on its supernatural causes (an Erinys in the house, 1258-60) and also on its human motivations (Medea's [End Page 167] rage, 1265-67). There follows a cry from within the house, indicated by μοι, which a third century B.C. papyrus fragment has now restored to the text.2 In the ensuing exchange the chorus sings in dochmiacs while the children cry out in iambic trimeters from within the house (1270a-81):Child (within). Alas for me.Chorus. Do you hear, do you hear the children's shouting? Alas, miserable woman, ill-starred.Child A. Alas, what shall I do? Where shall I flee my mother's hands?Child B. I know not, dearest brother; for we are being destroyed.Chorus. Shall I enter the house? I am decided to ward off murder from the children.Child A. Yes, in the gods' name, help; for we stand in need.Child B. How close we are to the snares of the sword.Chorus. Wretched woman, truly then you are rock or iron, you who will kill with a doom from your own hands the fruit of children that you bore!The audience, we must recall, can have only a vague idea about how the children would die, for Euripides seems to be the first poet to [End Page 168] make Medea kill them intentionally.3 The chorus began their previous ode, the fourth stasimon, by abandoning hope for the children's lives (, 976-77: "Now no longer do I have any hope of the children's lives, no longer; for they are already going to their murder"). Despite Medea's impulses of love and pity in the celebrated speech of inner struggle that follows this ode (1040-80), we experience the increasing inevitability of the children's deaths, especially after the news of Creon's and the Princess' deaths (cf. 1236-41). In contrast to her earlier hesitation, when she addressed her thumos with a plea not to do the deed (1056), Medea now, just before the fifth stasimon, addresses heart and hand to steel themselves for the final step of her revenge. Although Medea is now irrevocably committed to the murder, her speech nevertheless marks another moment of deep tragic division between maternity and vengefulness (1244-50):4Come, my wretched hand, take the sword, take it, and go toward the painful goal of your life, and do not yield to cowardice or remember how dear are the children, how you gave them birth, but for this short day forget your children, and then utter your lament. For if you kill them, yet they are dear. Unfortunate woman that I am.5When the chorus, in the ode that follows these lines, prays to Earth and Helios, it brings us closer to a vision... (shrink)

1. Introduction Geoff Cockfield, Ann Firth and John Laurent -/- 2. The Role of Thumos in Adam Smith’s System Lisa Hill -/- 3. Adam Smith’s Treatment of the Greeks in The Theory of Moral Sentiments: The Case of Aristotle Richard Temple-Smith -/- 4. Adam Smith, Religion and the Scottish Enlightenment Pete Clarke -/- 5. The ‘New View’ of Adam Smith and the Development of his Views Over Time James E. Alvey -/- 6. The Moon Before the Dawn: A Seventeenth-Century (...) Precursor of Smith’s The Theory of Moral Sentiments Jack Barbalet -/- 7. Adam Smith’s Moral Philosophy as Ethical Self-formation Ann Firth -/- 8. Science and its Applications in The Theory of Moral Sentiments David Thorpe -/- 9. Adam Smith, Charles Darwin and the Moral Sense John Laurent and Geoff Cockfield. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Aristotle on Sexual Difference: Metaphysics, Biology, Politics by Marguerite DeslauriersRosemary TwomeyMarguerite Deslauriers. Aristotle on Sexual Difference: Metaphysics, Biology, Politics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2022. Pp. 376. Hardback, $110.00.Aristotle on Sexual Difference is the latest addition to a growing literature on Aristotle’s views on women and other female animals. Like much of that literature, it surveys both his biological views and his political and ethical commitments. The writing is (...) lucid, and the book is well organized. As described in the introduction, the book defends two overarching theses. First, Deslauriers claims that, unlike some of his predecessors who either saw women as an unalloyed evil (Hesiod, Empedocles, and Plato, among others) or thought of sexual difference as ideally eliminated (Plato again), Aristotle believes that females are valuable, albeit inferior. Second, she finds a biological basis for Aristotle’s description of women’s reason as not authoritative, which she argues is the result not of an intellectual deficit but of a moral one.The first chapter gives an overview of how Aristotle’s predecessors approached questions about sexual difference: How did females first come to exist? What distinguishes them biologically? And how are those differences reflected in the role that women play both in the actual state and in ideal states like Plato’s kallipolis? Here Deslauriers seeks to highlight those accounts according to which women are not only inferior but also bad, since she will later argue that, unlike some earlier thinkers, Aristotle sees females as good.Part of Deslauriers’s case for the significance of females comes from the role they play in reproduction. In chapter 2, she points to the cool heart that Aristotle says is distinctive of females. Their lower body heat prevents them from concocting blood into sperm, but it does allow them to produce katamênia (menses), which is necessary as the material cause of offspring. Deslauriers argues convincingly that Aristotle thought males and females share a form and an end; as such, they are not essentially different. Instead, the difference between them is material: a female fetus is accidentally produced when either the semen or the menses is imperfectly concocted (116). When Aristotle says that females are deformed men, Deslauriers argues that he does not mean that they fail to achieve the end set by the form, but only that they do so to a lesser extent than males do. Both sexes have as an end “generat[ing] another such as itself” (DA II.4, 416b24), which in turn requires that they produce fertile residue. Since the menses that females produce is the material cause of the fetus, it is, she says, a fertile residue, albeit a residue less fertile than the semen acting as the efficient cause of the fetus.In chapter 3, Deslauriers considers the role of women in the city. Here she emphasizes that Aristotle describes rule over women, unlike rule over slaves and children, as constitutional (politikôs). Aristotle notoriously claims that women have the deliberative capacity in a nonauthoritative way, but rather than highlighting his assertion that their deliberative capacity lacks authority, Deslauriers foregrounds the fact that at least he thought that women possess such a capacity. The deliberative capacity’s lack of authority does not imply, she claims, that women are intellectually inferior. Rather, Aristotle thinks that women lack the authority to set collective ends. They “acquire virtue by borrowing the phronêsis of a natural ruler” (169), which Deslauriers describes as a moral rather than intellectual failing. Evocatively, she compares women’s role in the city to that of a nonvoting committee member (183). [End Page 501]Chapter 4 attempts to locate women’s need to borrow the phronêsis of another in their biological nature. One possibility is that Aristotle thinks that women’s coldness affects their perceptual capacity and therefore their rational imagination. Deslauriers thinks that this interpretation is inconsistent with Aristotle’s claim that women do have the deliberative faculty, since it would seem to follow that women would be faulty at practical deliberation more generally, not just at decision-making (230). Instead, she prefers an interpretation according to which women’s relative coldness and moistness weaken their thumos... (shrink)

In book IV of the Republic, Socrates offers an analysis of the tripartite structure of the soul as a perfect match-up to the class structure of the city. But the deeds that produce those speeches reveal the fixed relation among three independent parts to be the result of a dynamic process of self-division. This self-division is the work, more specifically, of thumos or spiritedness, which first cuts reason from desire, then separates itself from each in turn. By following this (...) “plot,” one uncovers the roots of the devotion to justice that animates the construction of the best city in speech. The psychology of Republic IV proves to be a striking model in miniature of what Seth Benardete called “the argument of the action.”. (shrink)

Plato is the first philosopher to see courage as primarily a philosophical virtue. This innovation, the necessary link between courage and philosophy, stands in stark opposition to the traditional view linking courage with military or civic affairs. Plato makes courage so central to the life of philosophy that this fact alone sets him apart from almost every other author in the western philosophical canon. Courage of a new type, philosophical courage, emerges in his writings, a kind of courage necessary for (...) and configured to the philosophical life. ;The Introduction presents an overview of the pre-philosophical development of courage from Homer to Thucydides in order to prepare the transition to the Platonic understanding. Chapter One discusses the Laches, the most extensive Platonic text on courage. Chapter Two takes up the Protagoras, which discusses the issue of knowledge and its relation to courage. Chapter Three turns to the Republic and argues that whereas the highest civic activity is characterized by a desire for honor, whose psychological basis is thumos, the life of philosophy is essentially erotic. Thus, thumos and eros are connected respectively to two distinct types of courage and the move from thumos to eros is the key to explaining the move from courage in the conventional sense to philosophical courage. ;Philosophical courage implies faith in the abiding power of reason to shed light on how to face ignorance, evil, and injustice with the conviction that the remedy is philosophy itself. Plato's account of the life of philosophy is, in its very essence, characterized by philosophical courage as an enduring commitment to the project of showing that the good is the ruling principle of the universe. Philosophy remains, therefore, a quest and philosophical courage is the virtue needed to endure in that quest. Philosophical courage sustains the life of philosophy, the striving after wisdom, by maintaining the conviction of the ultimate goodness of such a life in the absence of complete and comprehensive knowledge. If the life of philosophy represents the highest human activity, then the type of courage associated with this life is correspondingly highest. (shrink)

In the myth of the Phaedrus Plato sets forth a picture of the life of discarnate souls in heaven. He represents these souls by the symbol of a winged charioteer driving winged horses. In the case of the souls of the gods, the charioteers and horses are good. In the case of the other souls whom Plato calls daimones, and among whom our own souls are included, the soul is represented by a charioteer with two horses of which the right (...) one is good but the left one evil. It is generally agreed that the right and left horses represent thumos and passion respectively, while the charioteer symbolizes reason. Plato goes on to describe a procession which the gods and daimones make up to the outer edge of heaven in order to contemplate the Forms which lie beyond. The gods, we are told, make the ascent easily and when they reach the edge of heaven have no difficulty in staying there and beholding the Forms. The daimones, however, experience difficulty due to the recalcitrance of the evil horse, which all their charioteers possess (247 b Plato divides the daimones into three main groups: those who succeed in beholding the Forms though with difficulty; those whose vision is only partial; those, finally, who fail to see the Forms at all. Since contemplation of the Forms provides the nourishment by which the wings of the soul are nurtured, those daimones who fail to see the Forms at all lose their wings and fall to earth. They have to go through a series of earthly existences for 10,000 years, before they regain their wings and return to heaven. (shrink)

Starting from the platonic concept of thumos/thumoeides formulated in the Republic, the paper intends to show (1) the originality of the those concepts for the Plato’s anthropological conception of the individual and the citizen; (2) its coherence with the platonic doctrine of the Principles, delivered by the so called indirect tradition of the Platonism, and, (3) its fecundity for a contemporary reflection about the action of the statesman and about the political action of the philosopher. Key words: Plato, courage, (...) moderation, measure, mixture, indirect tradition. (shrink)

In this introduction to part 2 of the Common Knowledge symposium “Peace by Other Means,” the journal's editor reflects on the difference between the contributions to parts 1 and 2. Whereas the first installment concentrated on ethnography, the second focuses on the peacemaking repertoire of the Greco-Latin tradition, whose basis is psychological. That tradition is characterized by its refusal of wishful thinking about human nature and, in particular, by its doubt about claims that human drives other than thumos — (...) the rage for self-aggrandizement — motivate the initiators of wars. Given this assumption about motive, the Greco-Latin tradition tends also to regard negotiations based on the rational discussion of material interests as unlikely to succeed. Success requires symbolic and ritual gestures — acts of self-humiliation on the part of those apparently with the greatest power — by which thumos is propitiated and pacified. Most of the introduction considers cases of such settlements, including two contemporary efforts at ritual peacemaking, a successful one by Queen Elizabeth II in Ireland and an unsuccessful one by Pope Francis in the Middle East. (shrink)