Aristotle (384-322 BC) was one of the greatest philosophers of all time. Judging solely by his philosophical influences, only Plato was his contemporary: Aristotle's work shaped philosophy for centuries from the late antiquity to the Renaissance, and even today people continue to study it with a keen, non-antiquity interest. As a remarkable researcher and writer, Aristotle left behind a large number of writings, probably as many as two hundred papers, of which about thirty-one have survived. [1] His extant work covers a wide range of disciplines, from logic, metaphysics, and philosophy of mind, to major non-philosophical fields such as ethics, political theory, aesthetics, and rhetoric, to empirical biology, and he specializes in detailed observations of plants and animals. and instructions. In all these areas, Aristotle's theories provided enlightenment, met resistance, sparked debate, and generally sparked sustained interest from enduring readers.
Because of its vast scope and remoteness, Aristotle's philosophy cannot be summed up simply. The long history of interpretation and appropriation of Aristotle's texts and themes—spanning two millennia, including philosophers who have worked in various religious and secular traditions—has made even the basic points of interpretation controversial. The set of entries on Aristotle in this site addresses this situation through three levels of processing. First, the current general entry provides a brief account of Aristotle's life, describes his core philosophical commitments, and highlights his most unique approach and most influential achievements. [2] This is followed by general topics, which detail the main areas of Aristotle's philosophical activity. Finally, this is followed by a special topic that investigates in greater detail narrower issues, especially those that have focused on recent aristotle scholarship.
1. The life of Aristotle
2. Aristolite German Library: Characters and Main Classifications
3. Phainomena and Endoxic methods
4. Logic, Science and Dialectics4.1 Logic 4.2 Science 4.3 Dialectics
5. Essentialism and homophony
6. Category theory
7. The four-cause explanation of interpretive adequacy
8. Alienation
9. Aristotle's Teleology
10. Substances
11. Creatures
12. Happiness and Politics Association
13. Rhetoric and Art
14. The Legacy of Aristotle
Bibliography A. Translation B. Annotated Translation C. General Engineering D. A bibliography of cited works
Academic tools
Other Internet resources
Related entries
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Born in 384 BC in Stagira, a small city in Macedonia in northeastern Greece (hence the nickname "Stagirite", which occasionally met aristotle's scholarship), Aristotle was sent to Athens at the age of about 17 to study platonic academy, an outstanding place of study in the Greek world. After arriving in Athens, Aristotle remained in touch with the Academy until Plato's death in 347, when he traveled to Athos in Asia Minor on the northwest coast of present-day Turkey. There, he continued the philosophical activities he had begun at the Academy, but most likely also began to extend his research into marine biology. He spent about three years in Athos, apparently after the death of his master, Hermeas, who had been the ruler of Athos, and his friends and former academics moved to the nearby coastal island of. There he collaborated for two years with Theophrastus, a native from, to continue his philosophical and empirical research, and in antiquity he was also reportedly associated with Plato's Academy. While on, Aristotle married Hermias's niece, Pythias, and had a daughter, also known as Pitias.
In 343, at the request of Philip the Macedonian king, Aristotle left for Pella, the capital of Macedonia, to counsel the king's thirteen-year-old son, Alexander, who eventually became alexander the Great' boy. Although speculation about Aristotle's influence on the developing Alexander has proved irresistible by historians, in fact, little is known about the interaction between them. All in all, it seems reasonable to draw some conclusions about tuition fees, but it only lasted two or three years, when Alexander went from thirteen to fifteen. By the age of 15, Alexander had apparently served as his father's deputy military commander, a situation that undermined the judgment of historians who speculated on longer tuition fees, if not conclusive. Is it because it may,
It is difficult to rule out this possibility decisively, as little is known about Aristotle's life from 341 to 335. Apparently, he spent another five years in Stagira or Macedonia before his second and final return to Athens in 335. The gakuen. Those who belonged to the Aristotelian school came to be known as Peripatetics, probably because of the existence of peripatos school properties adjacent to athletic fields. Members of Lyceum studied a wide range of disciplines of interest to Aristotle himself: botany, biology, logic, music, mathematics, astronomy, medicine, cosmology, physics, history of philosophy, metaphysics, psychology, ethics, theology, rhetoric, political history, government and political theory, rhetoric, and art. In all these areas, Lyceum collected manuscripts, based on some ancient records, and thus formed the first large ancient library.
During this time, Aristotle's wife, Pythias, died, and he established a new relationship with Herpyllis, perhaps a native of Stagira, as was his, although her origins are disputed, as was her exact relationship with Aristotle. Some believed that she was merely his slave; others deduced from Aristotle's will that she was a freed woman, most likely Aristotle's wife at the time of his death. In any case, they had children together, including a son, Nicomachus, named after Aristotle's father, after whom his Nicomachean ethics probably bore.
After living in Athens for 13 years, Aristotle found another reason to retire from the city in 323. His departure may have been due to the resurgence of anti-Macedonian sentiment that had been brewing in Athens, which could boil freely after Alexander and die of illness in Babylon the same year. Because of his ties to Macedonia, Aristotle had reason to fear for his safety and left Athens, as an old story that is often repeated, and he saw no reason to allow Athens to violate philosophy twice. He retreated directly to Chalcis on an island off the attic coast of Euboea, where he died of natural causes in 322. [ 3 ]
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Aristotle's writings often cause great difficulties for his novice readers. First, he makes heavy use of unexplainable technical terms, and his sentence structure can sometimes be frustrating. Moreover, sometimes a chapter or even an entire treatise passed to us in his name seems to be very organized, if organized. In fact, in some cases, scholars have debated whether the successive papers currently arranged under a single heading were stitched together by aristotles that Aristotle had intended to publish in its present form, or by later editors using whatever organizing principles he deemed appropriate. [4] This helps explain why students, after being first introduced to the supple and beautiful prose displayed in Plato's dialogues, tend to find the experience frustrating. Aristotle's prose required some adaptation.
Even more puzzling, Cicero's observation is that if Plato's prose is silver, then Aristotle's prose is the flowing golden river (Ac. Pr. 38.119, see Top 1.3, De or.1.2.49). Cicero is arguably the greatest Latin prose stylist, and without a doubt an accomplished and impartial critic of the prose styles of others writing in Latin and Greek. Then we must assume that Cicero preceded aristotle's work, not the work we have. In fact, we know that Aristotle wrote the dialogue, probably while in the Academy, and among the few remnants of them that have survived, we can glimpse the style Cicero described. Unfortunately, in most of the works we have, we find that the characteristics of the works are much less. Conversely, Aristotle's extant works are likely to read like this: lecture notes, drafts written first and then rewritten, continuous records of ongoing investigations, and, in general, internal compilations prepared not for the general audience but for the inner circle. auditor. Bohr. 1278b30；EE 1217b22、1218b34)。 Unfortunately, most of what we leave behind (though certainly not all) is unfinished work in progress, not finished and polished. Still, many who insisted on using Aristotle began to appreciate the unadorned directness of his style.
More importantly, the primitive state of Aristotle's surviving treatises does not hinder our ability to grasp its philosophical content. His 31 surviving works (i.e., those considered true in the "Aristolite German Library" of our medieval manuscripts) contain recognizable Aristotle doctrines; and most of them contain arguments with clear basic themes, even on questions of detail and nuance.
The works can be classified according to Aristotle's preferred principle of intuitive organization. He refers to the branch of learning as "science" (epistêmai), and it is better to think of it as an organized institution of learning done for demonstration than as a record of ongoing empirical research. Moreover, in his terminology, the natural sciences such as physics are only one branch of theoretical science. , including experiential and non-empirical pursuits. He distinguishes theoretical science from more practice-oriented research, some of which focuses on human behavior and others on production processes. Thus, Aristotle's science is divided into three categories: (i) theoretical, (ii) practical, and (iii) productive. The principles of division are simple: theoretical science seeks knowledge for itself; practical science involves the behavior and good deeds of individuals and societies; and the science of production aimed at creating beautiful or useful objects (Top. 145a15-16; Phys . 192b8-12; DC 298a27-32, DA 403a27-b2; Met. 1025b25, 1026a18-19, 10164a ; EN 1139a26–28、1141b29–32）。
(i) Theoretical science consists primarily of what Aristotle called the First Philosophy or what we now call metaphysics, but also mathematics and physics, or natural philosophy. Physics studies the natural universe as a whole, and in Aristotle's hands tends to focus on the conceptual puzzles related to nature rather than empirical studies; but it goes further, so it also includes the theory of causal explanation, and finally even includes a proof of an immovable enabler that is considered the initial and ultimate cause of all motion. Many of the puzzles that Aristotle was primarily concerned with have proven attractive to philosophers, mathematicians, and natural scientists with theoretical leanings. They include Zeno's paradox of motion as a small sample, puzzles about time, the nature of place, and difficulties in thinking about infinity.
Natural philosophy also incorporates special sciences, including biological, botanical, and astronomical theories. Most contemporary critics believe that Aristotle saw psychology as a branch of natural philosophy because he saw the soul (psuchê) as a fundamental principle of life, including all animal and plant life. In fact, however, the evidence for this conclusion is uncertain at best. Notably, early Aristotle academics thought this was controversial, so that even questions like the proper home of psychology in Aristotle's scientific division, for example, sparked a decades-long debate. regeneration. [ 5 ]
(ii) Practical science is less controversial, at least in terms of its scope. These involve the actions and actions of individuals and societies. Thus, practical science contrasts with theoretical science, which seeks knowledge for its own benefit, and less obviously, with the science of production, which deals with the creation of products outside of science itself. Both politics and ethics belong to this branch.
(iii) Finally, the science of production is primarily a process aimed at producing artefacts or human products that are more broadly interpreted. The sciences of production include shipbuilding, agriculture, and medicine, as well as the arts of music, theater, and dance. Another form of production science is rhetoric, which deals with the principles of speech that suit a variety of courtroom and persuasion environments, including central political gatherings.
It is worth noting that Aristotle's triple division of science makes no mention of logic. Although Aristotle did not use the word "logic" in our sense, he in fact developed the first formal logical and effective reasoning system. In Aristotle's framework—though he did not specify this—logic does not belong to any one science, but rather formulates the principles of correct argument that apply to all areas of common inquiry. It systematizes the principles of permissible reasoning and helps to highlight tantalizing patterns of false reasoning at the abstract level that anyone with a primary interest in truth should avoid. Thus, in addition to his technical work on logic and logic theory, Aristotle studied informal ways of argumentation and attempted to expose common fallacious patterns of reasoning.
Aristotle's study of logic and argumentative forms forms forms form part of a group of works passed down to us from the Middle Ages, titled Organon (organon = Tools in Greek). Although Aristotle did not have such a feature in these terms, the name is appropriate as long as it is remembered that knowledge inquiry requires a wide range of tools. Thus, in addition to logic and argumentation (dealt primarily with a priori analysis and subject matter), the works contained in Organon also deal with category theory, propositional and terminological theories, the structure of scientific theories, and, to some extent, the basic principles of epistemology.
When we include Aristotle's most important surviving works of authenticity in this project, we end up with the following basic division of his major works:
Oghanon category (cats. De Interpretatione ( DI ) [ On Interpretation ] A Priori Analysis (APr) Apo topic (top. Sophistry Refutation (SE)
Theoretical Science Physics (Phys.) Generation and Corruption (Gen. et Corr.)De Caelo (DC) [In Heaven] Metaphysics (Met.) de Anima (DA) on the Soul] Parva Naturalia (PN) [Brief Nature Paper] Animal History (HA) Animal Parts (PA) Animal Motion (MA) Meteorology (Meteors) Animal Evolution (IA) Animal Generation (GA )
Practical Science Nicomachean Ethics (EN) Eudemian Ethics (EE) Magna Moralia (MM) [Great Moral] Politics (Pol.)
Production Science Rhetoric (Rhet. Poetics (poet)
The titles in this list are the most commonly used titles in English scholarships today, followed by standard abbreviations in parentheses. Somehow, it is customary to use Latin titles in some cases and English in others. Where Latin names are commonly used, English names are given in square brackets.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="44" >3.Phainomena and Endoxic methods</h1>
Aristotle's basic approach to philosophy is initially best understood by contrast. Descartes sought to place philosophy and science on a solid footing by placing all intellectual claims under intense methodological skepticism, while Aristotle was convinced that our perceptual and cognitive faculties were fundamentally reliable, that they largely brought us into direct contact with the characteristics and divisions of our world, and that we did not need to pose skeptical before engaging in substantive philosophy. Therefore, he conducts research in all fields of research in the way of modern natural scientists, who believe that progress is the diligent application of a trained mind, so when problems are encountered, just go to work. When he went to work, Aristotle first considered how the world came about, reflected on the puzzles that these phenomena had caused, and recalled the claims made about them so far. These methods include his methods of phenomena and internal oxygen.
These two approaches first reflect in different ways Aristotle's deepest motivation for philosophy. "Human beings began to do philosophy," he said, "as they do now, because of surprise, at first because they were curious about the strange things in front of them, and then little by little they progressed, because they came to find the bigger things incomprehensible" (Met. 982b12）。 According to Aristotle, humans think philosophically because they find certain aspects of their experiences puzzling. The difficulties we encounter in thinking about the universe and our place in it—aporiai, in Aristotle's terminology—affect our understanding and prompt us to think philosophically.
According to Aristotle, it is necessary for us to begin to philosophicalize by listing phenomena, phenomena, or more generally, things that seem to be like this, and then to gather internal causes, that is, credible opinions about things that we find puzzling. As a classic example, Aristotle encountered a conundrum in his Nicomachean Ethics about human behavior, namely that we are sometimes manifestly unruly or weak-willed. Introducing the puzzle, Aristotle paused to ponder a precept that guided his approach in many areas of study:
In other cases, we have to list the phenomena (phainomena) and solve all the difficult problems about them. In this way, we must prove credible opinions about these experiences (endoxa) – ideally, all credible opinions, but not all, then most, those are the most important. Because if the objection is answered and the credible opinion remains, we will have ample evidence. ( EN 1145b2–7)
Scholars argue about Aristotle's level of trust in his account of endoxa and the underlying phenomena he appeals to (phainomena). [6] Of course, since endotoxins sometimes conflict with each other, often precisely because phenomena produce aporiai or puzzles, it is not always possible to fully respect them. Therefore, as a group, they must be reinterpreted and systematized, and if this is not enough, some must be rejected outright. In any case, it is abundantly clear that Aristotle was willing to give up some or all of his endotoxins and all phenomena that science or philosophy required him to do so (Met. 1073b36, 1074b6; PA 644b5; EN 1145b2-30）。
Nevertheless, his attitude toward phenomena does indicate that he tends to preserve as many appearances as possible within a given field— not because appearances are impeccablely accurate, but because, as he assumes, appearances tend to track the truth. We are equipped with sensory and thinking abilities whose structure allows us to engage with the world, thus providing us with data about its basic components and divisions. While our abilities are not foolproof, they are not systematic deception or misleading. Since the goal of philosophy is truth, and it seems to us that much has been proved correct analytically, phenomena provide both the impetus for philosophical reflection and the examination of some of its more extravagant impulses.
Of course, it is not always clear what a phenomenon is; it is even less clear what kind of phenomenon to respect in the face of real disagreements. This is part of the reason why Aristotle endorsed his second and related methodological precepts, namely that we should begin philosophical discussions by gathering the most stable and deep-rooted opinions on the subject of study passed down to us by our predecessors. Aristotle's term for these privileged views, endoxa, is presented in different ways as "reputable opinion," "credible opinion," "deep-seated belief," "credible belief," or "common belief." Each of these translations contains at least part of the intent of the word Aristotle, but it is important to realize that this is a fairly technical term for him. An endoxon is the kind of person who thinks we spontaneously see it as reputable or worthy of respect, and even after much deliberation, we may doubt its authenticity. (Aristotle appropriated the word from the common Greek, in which endoxos is a man of eminent or respectable stature, a man of high prestige whom we would spontaneously respect—though, of course, we may find reasons to criticize him after careful observation.) He explains that his use of the term "endoxa" is a widely shared opinion that usually ends up with those we respect most: 'Endoxa is the opinion that is accepted by everyone, most of them, or the wise —among the wise, all or most of them, or those with the most notable and highest reputation' (100b21-23 BC). Endoxa is partly because they form significant subclasses of play a special role in Aristotle's philosophy of pharomena (EN 1154b3-8): because they are privileged opinions, we find ourselves unthinkingly endorsed and after some reflection reiterate that they themselves come to be able to preserve the appearance as much as possible.
For this reason, Aristotle's approach of starting with internal oxygen is not just a pious cliché to the effect that we should pay attention to our superiors. As it stands, he does think so, but he also insists more enlighteningly that we may be led astray by the terminology left to us by philosophical questions. Many times, the conundrums we face are articulated by early thinkers, and we find them puzzling for this reason. However, just as often, if we reflect on the terminology in which the puzzle lies, we find our way forward; when the formulation of a puzzle betrays an untenable structural assumption, a solution naturally praises itself. That's why, in more abstract areas of research, we may find ourselves seeking guidance from our predecessors, even as we question the way they shed light on the problems we face.
Aristotle applied his method extensively in almost every area of his philosophy, namely through phenomena and extensive collection of endotoxins. As a typical example, we find that he clearly deployed the method in the discussion of time in physics iv 4 10-14. We have a phainomenon at the beginning: we are convinced that time exists, or at least the passage of time. Inevitably, our world emerged: we experience time as passing, one-way, and unrecoverable after loss. However, when we start explaining the possible time, we find ourselves confused. As a guide, we turn to what those who reflect on the nature of time say about time. It is a direct indication that philosophers and natural scientists have raised the question of time.
As Aristotle set out, these problems take the form of conundrum, or aporiai, about whether if they exist in time (physics. 218a8-30）。 If we say that time is the sum of the past, the present, and the future, we will immediately find that there are objections to the existence of time but the past and the future. According to opponents, only the present exists. If we refute that time was, then that time was, and will exist, then we first notice that our narrative is not enough: after all, there are many things that have existed, are happening, or will exist, but these are the things that are different in time and so on than time itself. We further see that our account has threatened circularity, because saying that something has existed or will exist seems to be simply saying that it existed at an earlier time or will exist at a later time. Then we find that there are people who disagree with our claims, even if the current concept is disturbing. After all, it's either constantly changing now or forever. If it were to never change, then the present is the present of ten thousand years ago; yet this is absurd. If it is constantly changing, then no two are now the same, in which case the past present must appear and disappear before the present. when? Either it disappears when it appears, which at least seems strange, or it disappears at some point after it appears, in which case, too, the two gifts must exist at the same time immediately. Now Aristotle does not subscribe to the claims made in stating these types of fallacies; in fact, many times he cannot, for some people qualify as aporiais only because they contain individual specious arguments that produce incompatible conclusions. As a result, they can serve as a springboard for deeper, more demanding analyses.
Therefore, in general, Aristotle's setting up such an error does not imply endorsement of any given endoproton on one side or the other. Instead, he argues that such considerations raise believable puzzles that reflect on might lead us to a valid understanding of the nature of time. In this way, aporiai brings sharp contrasts to the issues that need attention if progress is to be made. Thus, by reflecting on the mysteries of time, we are immediately led to think about duration and separability, about quanta and continuum, and about various classification questions. That is, if time exists, then what is it? Is it something that exists absolutely independently? Or rather, is it the kind of thing that depends on something else to exist just like the surface? As we begin to solve these types of problems, we also begin to identify the various hypotheses that play a role in the inner loop that comes down to us about the nature of time. So when we collect endotoxins and look at them critically, we learn something about our quarries, in this case about the nature of time — and crucially about the conceptual groups that must be perfected if we are to make real philosophical progress in this area. Aristotle implied that what was established in the case of time generally holds. That's why he began his philosophical inquiry by presenting phenomena, collecting endotoxins, and solving the puzzles they caused.
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Given the role this view plays in dialectics, Aristotle's dependence on Nedosha takes on greater significance, which he considers to be an important form of non-scientific reasoning. Dialectics, like science (epistêmê), comes at the expense of logical reasoning; but science requires some kind of premise that goes beyond the scope of ordinary dialectical reasoning. Science relies on necessary and known premises, and dialectical discussion can proceed by relying on endoxa, and therefore can only claim to be as secure as endoxa on which it depends. Aristotle suggested that this is not a problem because we often make productive reasoning without being able to claim to have gained scientific understanding. At the very least, however, all reasoning—whether scientific or dialectical—must respect the norms of logic and reasoning.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="58" >4.1 logic</h1>
One of the great achievements that Aristotle can claim was the first systematic treatment of the principle of correct reasoning, the first logic. Although today we recognize many forms of logic other than Aristotle, he not only developed what is now called syllogism, but also added modal syllogism to it, and went a long way in demonstrating some of the metatheorems associated with these systems. Of course, the philosophers before Aristotle reasoned well or badly, and the capable of them had a reliable grasp of the principles of validity and rationality of arguments. Before Aristotle, however, no one had a systematic treatment of the principle of correct reasoning. No one before him had tried to codify the formal and syntactic principles that played a role in such reasoning.
Once you have investigated our work, if you think that our system has been fully developed compared to other treatments that have so far originated from tradition – remember what happened at the beginning of our survey – this falls on you, our students, are tolerant of any omissions in our system and are deeply grateful for the findings it contains (Soph. Ref. 184b2-8）。
Even though it is commonplace now to think that his logic is only a small part of the logic we know and use, Aristotle's achievements are so extensive that Kant's characters, who wrote two thousand years after aristotle's treatise on logic, found it easy to give an appropriately laudatory judgment: "From the earliest times, logic has embarked on a safe path, which can be seen from the fact that since the time of Aristotle it has not had to take a step backwards... What's so remarkable about logic is that until now it has not been able to take a step forward, so it seems that everything has been done" (Critique of Pure Reason, B vii).
In Aristotle's logic, the basic components of reasoning are given in terms of the include and exclude relationships that are graphically captured many years later by the apparatus of the Venn diagram. He began with the concept of a clearly correct argument whose apparent and unquestionable acceptability prompted Aristotle to call it "perfect deduction" (APr. 24b22-25）。 In general, according to Aristotle, sullogismon is a valid or acceptable argument. Rather, deduction is "an argument in which when certain things are placed, others are bound to follow because of their existence" (APr. 24b18-20）。 His deductive view is similar to the concept of validity, albeit with some minor differences. For example, Aristotle insisted that unrelated premises undermine deduction, while validity was indifferent to unrelated or actually adding any type of premise to an already valid argument. Moreover, Aristotle insisted that deduction would make progress, and that every inference from p to p was trivial. Nevertheless, Aristotle's general deductive concept is close enough to validity that we can speak of effective structure when portraying his syllogism. In general, he argues that deduction is the kind of structural argument that guarantees its validity, regardless of the truth or falsity of its premise. This intuitively applies to the following structures:
All one ss is one second.
All Bs are C seconds.
Therefore, all a s is C seconds.
Therefore, anything in this form is a deduction in the Aristotle sense. Let an S, Bs and c^s everything be anything, and if it is indeed an s for B S and B S C S, then the inevitable will is C seconds. This particular inference is perfect because its validity does not require proof, and perhaps because it does not allow proof: any proof seems ultimately to depend on the intuitive validity of this argument.
Given that his discipline was still in its infancy, Aristotle sought to exploit the intuitive validity of perfect deduction in a surprisingly bold way: he thought he could establish conversion principles according to which every deduction (or, more accurately, every non-modal deduction) could be translated into perfect deduction. By using such a transformation, he argues, we can put all our inferences on a solid foundation.
If we focus only on the simplest deductions, Aristotle's program will soon appear. The perfect deduction that has been proposed is an example of universal affirmation: all A is B; all B s c s; so, all one s is C second. Now, Aristotle argues, it is possible to iterate through all combinations of simple premises and reveal their basic reasoning structures, and then relate them to this and similar perfect deductions. Thus, if we change the number of propositional subjects (universal all versus some uncertain) and mass or some kind of predicate (positive and negative), we come up with all possible combinations of the most basic types of arguments.
It turns out that some of these arguments are deductive or valid syllogisms, while others are not. Those who do not recognize counterexamples, and those who certainly do not. There are some counterexamples, for example, suffering from what came to be known as unassigned intermediate terms, for example: all A is b; some B is C; so, all A is c (all college students are literate; some literate people read poetry; so, all college students read poetry). There are no counterexamples in the perfect deduction of the universal affirmative form: if all one s is b seconds, all B s Çs, then there is no escape from the fact that all A is c. Therefore, if all possible deductive types can be reduced to intuitively valid types, then the validity of all types can be guaranteed.
To achieve this reduction, Aristotle relied on a series of metathesms, some of which he proved, while others he merely reported (although they all proved to be acknowledged). His principle is that the meta-theorem is that no argument can conflict with them and still qualifies as a true deduction. They include the following theorems: (i) no deduction contains two negative premises; (ii) the deduction of a negative conclusion must have a negative premise; (iii) a deduction with a universal conclusion requires two full-name premises; and (iv) a deduction with a negative conclusion requires exactly one negative premise. In fact, he did provide proof for his most important metatheorem, so we can be sure that all the inferences in his system are valid, even if their validity is difficult to grasp immediately.
In the process of developing and proving these logical metatheorems, Aristotle depicted areas that had not been explored before him and that had not been improved for many centuries after his death.
For a more complete account of Aristotle's achievements in logic, see Aristotle's Logic entry.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="73" >4.2 Science</h1>
Aristotle did not make logical study its own end, but focused on its role in human inquiry and interpretation. Logic, he argues, is a tool that makes an important but incomplete contribution to science and dialectics. Its contribution is incomplete because science (epistêmê) uses arguments that are not merely deductive. Deduction is at least a valid syllogism, and of course science must use arguments that exceed this threshold. Still, science needs more: a science advances by organizing the data in its field into a series of arguments that, in addition to being deductive, have the necessary premises, as Aristotle put it, "naturally known," or "more easily understood" (gnôrimôteron phusei) (apolipoprotein). 71b33–72a25; top. 141b3-14; Physics. 184a16-23）。 What he meant was that they should reveal the true, mind-independent nature of things.
He further insisted that science (epistêmê) – a broader term in his usage, as it extended to the fields of inquiry such as mathematics and metaphysics, no less than empirical science – not only reported facts, but also explained them by showing their precedence (APo. 78a22-28）。 That is to say, science explains what is less known in terms of what is more widely known and more fundamental, and what is productive in interpretation explains the poverty of interpretation.
For example, we might want to know why trees fall leaves in the fall. We can rightly say that this is due to the wind blowing through them. Still, this is not a profound or general explanation, as the wind blows the same at other times of the year, but the results are different. A deeper explanation—aristotle's inaccessibility but well illustrated by his point—is more general and more causal: trees fall because less sunlight in autumn inhibits the production of chlorophyll needed for photosynthesis, while trees do not go dormant without photosynthesis. It is important that science should not only record these facts, but also display them in the correct order of interpretation. That is, while a deciduous tree that cannot perform photosynthesis is also a tree that lacks chlorophyll production, its inability to produce chlorophyll explains that it cannot perform photosynthesis, not the other way around. This asymmetry must be reflected in scientific explanations. Aristotle's method of scientific elaboration was designed to meet this requirement.
Science captures not only causal priorities in nature, but also its deep, unchanging patterns. Therefore, in addition to the explanatory basics, the first premise of scientific deduction is also necessary. So, Aristotle said:
Whenever we think we know the cause of something, we think that we understand something unconditionally, rather than understanding it in a sophistry, accidental way—it is the cause of that thing—and knowing that it cannot be anything else. Obviously, knowledge (epistêmê) is such a thing. After all, people with knowledge and people without knowledge think so – even though only people with knowledge are in this state. Therefore, anything that is unconditionally known cannot be anything else. ( APo 71b9-16; See also APo 71b33-72a5; Top . 141b3-14, Phys . 184a10-23; Met. 1029b3-13)
For this reason, science needs more than just deduction. In summary, the prevailing science is argument (apodexis), in which argument is a deduction whose premise reveals the causal structure of the world, proposes to capture what is necessary, and reveals what is more widely known and easier to understand. Nature (APo 71b33–72a5, Phys. 184a16–23, EN 1095b2–4).
Aristotle's approach to the proper form of scientific explanation has led to a reflection on a disturbing epistemological question: How did the argument begin? If we are to make arguments in order to infer the lesser well-known by inferring from the more well-known inferences, then unless we reach the lowest point, we will obviously be forced to continue to retreat backwards towards the increasingly well-known, which seems incredibly endless, or caught in some form of cycle, which seems undesirable. The alternative seems to be perpetual ignorance. Aristotle argued:
Some people think that the knowledge obtained through demonstration requires knowledge of basic things, so there is no knowledge. Others believe that there is knowledge, and that all knowledge is provable. None of these views are true or necessary. The first group, those who argue that there is no knowledge at all, argue that we face infinite regression. They argue that if none of the a priori things are primary, we cannot know the a priori because of the a priori. Here their argument is correct: it is indeed impossible to traverse an infinite series. However, they insist that if regression stops and there is a first principle, then they will be unknowable, because there will certainly be no proof of the first principles — as they insist, because only what is proven can be known. But if it is impossible to know the original things, then we cannot know the things derived from them unconditionally or in any appropriate way. Instead, we can only understand them according to assumptions, that is, if the original things are acquired, then the things derived from them are also obtained. Another group agreed that knowledge could only arise from demonstration, but felt that nothing could hinder demonstration because they recognized that circular and reciprocal demonstrations were possible. ( APo. 72b5–21)
Aristotle's own preferred alternative is clear:
We believe that not all knowledge is provable: knowledge premised on a direct premise is unprovable. Indeed, the necessity here is obvious; for if it is necessary to know the a priori things, that is, those that derive proofs, and if the final regression stops, then these direct premises must be unprovable. ( APo . 72b21–23)
All in all, if all knowledge needs to be proven, and all proofs go from intrinsically more understandable to more difficult to understand, then the process either proceeds indefinitely or stops in the unproven First Principles, which is known and known safely. Aristotle dismissed the only remaining possibility, the argument that could be circular, fairly brief, and commented that this amounted to "just saying that if the situation is indeed so", then by this way it is "easy to prove anything" (APo. 72b32–73a6)。
Aristotle's own preferred alternative, in which those willing to engage in assiduous research, could grasp the first principles of science, caused consternation among many of his readers. In a posterioanasis II 19, he describes the process of the knower from perception to memory, from memory to experience (empeiria) – in this respect, a fairly technical term that reflects a single universality rooted in the mind – and finally from experience to mastery of the first principles. Aristotle described this ultimate state of intelligence as an unmediated intellectual understanding of first principles (APo. 100a10-b6）。
Scholars can understandably question that the contingency to necessity given from sensory experience, as required by the first principles of science, seems to be a paragraph of arbitrary assertion. Perhaps, however, Aristotle merely envisioned an acquired inevitability of science, including the natural sciences. In any case, he thinks that we can and do possess knowledge, so that we somehow begin with sensory perception and gradually come to understand the necessary and unchanging characteristics of the world. This is knowledge in true science (epistêmê). In reflecting on the kind of progress that Aristotle envisioned, some commentators accuse him of an almost naïve epistemological optimism; others argue that, more precisely, an accusation of innocence is itself naïve, betraying the indisputable and untenable alignment of necessity and transcendence. [ 7 ]
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="87" >4.3 dialectics</h1>
Not all rigorous reasoning is scientific. In fact, Aristotle's extant writings rarely meet the requirements of scientific formulation set out in the Posterior Analysis. As he acknowledges, we often find ourselves reasoning from premises that have an inner state, and these views are widely believed or endorsed by the wise, even if they are not considered necessary. Less often than not, we reason first acquire the first principles of our field of study. Therefore, we need some kind of "method by which we will be able to deduce any question that is posed to us by endotoxins and explain ourselves without falling into contradiction [when we are examined by the interlocutor]" (top. 100a18-20). He characterized this method as dialectical.
Our suggestion of often using dialectics in philosophical exchanges reflects Aristotle's assumption that dialectics has two kinds: one is negative, or destructive, and the other is positive or constructive. In fact, in his book On Topics devoted to dialectics, he identified three roles of dialectics in the inquiry of knowledge, the first of which was primarily preparation:
Dialectics can be used for three purposes: training, dialogue and communication, and philosophical sciences. Based on these considerations, it is useful for the purpose of training, and it is obvious that once we have the direction of the survey, we will be more likely to participate in the topics presented to us. This is useful for conversational exchanges, because once we enumerate the beliefs of many people, we do not interact with them according to the beliefs of others, but according to their own beliefs; whenever they seem to say something wrong to us, we redirect them. It is useful for philosophical sciences because when we are able to solve a problem on both sides, it is easier for us to understand what is true and what is false. Going further afield, it helps to reveal the main content of a scientific commitment. For it is impossible to express any opinion on the first principles of a science on the basis of the first principles of the science itself under discussion, for of all the commitments of a science, the first principles are the primary. This necessarily comes from the discussion of credible beliefs (endoxa) that belong to science. This is peculiar to dialectics, or at least best suited to it. For since it is a cross-examination, dialectics contains the first principle of all questioning. (Top.) 101a26–b4）
The first two of the three dialectical forms identified by Aristotle are rather limited. In contrast, the third has philosophical significance.
In the third disguise, dialectics plays a role in "science carried out in a philosophical way" (pros tas kata philosphianepistêmas; Top . 101a27–28, 101a34), in this science we actually find what he pursues in his writings. Major philosophical papers. In these cases, dialectics helps to sort out the inner, placing some in a controversial position while elevating others; it puts Endoxa cross-examined to test their staying power; and, most notably, according to Aristotle, it puts us on the path to first principles (Top.100a18–b4). If so, then dialectics plays an important role in the order of philosophical discovery: we begin to build first principles, in part by determining which of our initial endotoxins stand up to constant scrutiny. Here, as elsewhere in his philosophy, Aristotle showed remarkable faith in the power of human reason and investigation.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="93" >5</h1>
However, we acquire safe principles in philosophy and science, whether through some sort of process that leads to a rational grasp of necessary truths, or through a continuous dialectical investigation of the endotoxins chosen wisely, according to Aristotle we can indeed discover and draw conclusions. Understand the characteristics that are really necessary for reality. Aristotle believed that these traits were captured in the definition of essential designation used in science (again in generalized epistemology).
Aristotle's commitment to essentialism was deeply rooted. In discussing the nature of things, he relies on many loosely related wording that provide some clues to his overall positioning. Words found to be considered essential in Aristotle's contemporary English translation include: (i) to ti esti (what it is) ;(ii) to einai (exists) ;(iii) ousia (exists) ;(iv) hopeer esti (exactly what it is), and most importantly, (v) to ti ên einai (what it is) (APo 83a7; Top 141b35; Phys . 190a17, 201a18-21; Gen. et correction 319b4; DA 424a25, 429b10; encounter. 1003b24、1006a32、1006b13； EN 1102a30、1130a12–13)。 Among them, the last entry (v) needs to be explained, because it is the most peculiar, and because it is a technical term favored by Aristotle for essence. It is an abbreviation that means "an instance of a K class is an instance of a K class." For example, "The one who (has always) been human". In this way, Aristotle hypothesized that if we wanted to know what a person was, we would not be able to identify that ephemeral or non-universal feature; in fact, we could not even identify universal features without explanatory depth. Rather, as his preferred terms indicate, he was interested in what makes humans human—and he hypothesized that, first, there were some characteristics F that were common to all and only humans, and secondly, F explained the other traits we found to span the human range.
Importantly, the second feature of Aristotle essentialism distinguishes his method from the more common modal methods of today, according to which:[8]
F is the basic property of x = df, if x loses F, x ceases to exist.
Aristotle rejected this approach for several reasons, the most notable of which was his belief that certain non-essential features satisfies the definition. Thus, in addition to categorical and logical features (each person is the same or not the same as the number 9), Aristotle recognized a class of attributes he called idia (Cat. 3a21, 4a10; Top . 102a18–30, 134a5–135b6), now commonly known for its proprietary renderings of medieval Latin. Propria are non-essential properties that flow from an essence, so even if they are not necessary, they are that necessary. For example, if we assume that rationality is essential to human beings, then everyone will master grammar. Having grammatical ability is not the same as reason, although it is derived from it. Aristotle assumed that his readers would understand that reason asymmetrically explains being able to use grammar, even if something is rational, if and only if it is able to use grammar. Thus, because it is explanatory first, reason is more able to claim itself to be the essence of humanity than to have grammatical ability. Thus, Aristotle's essentialism is more refined than mere modal essentialism. Aristotle's essentialism held that:
F is x = d f (i) if x loses F, x ceases to exist; (ii) F is objectively a fundamental feature of the interpretability of x.
In sum, in Aristotle's approach, for example, what a person is, is what it has always been and will always be, i.e. reason. Therefore, this is a feature to be captured in a specific description of human nature (APo 75a42-b2; Met. 103b1-2, 1041a25-32）。
Aristotle believed that in a wide range of cases, species have an essence that can be discovered through diligent research. In fact, he did not devote much energy to arguing for this argument; not to mention his tendency to spend energy fighting the anti-realist challenges to essentialism, perhaps in part because he found or thought that the profound laws he had discovered impressed him, confirming the results of his biological research. [9] Nevertheless, he cannot be blamed for profligate in the prospects of essentialism.
On the contrary, in many cases where others are prepared to accept essentialism, he denies essentialism. One finds this denial in his criticism of Plato, though not the only one. In fact, Plato and Platonists' signature critique of Aristotle is that the many identical and unchanging examples of the world they liked were actually examples of ambiguity, or homophony in his technical terminology. In the opening chapter of the category, Aristotle distinguishes between synonyms and homophones (later called monistic and polysemy)). His preferred phrase was "to talk in many ways", or more simply, "multiple meanings" :p olochôs legomenon), which is extremely common in his work. All of these languages have quasi-technical status to him. The simplest is singularity:
a and b are singular F if (i) a is F, (ii) b is F, and (iii) F- ness is the same in "a is F" and "b is F".
Thus, for example, since the description of "man" in "Socrates is man" and "Plato is man" will be the same, in these applications " man " is a singular or synonymous word. (Note that Aristotle's concept of the word "synonym" differs from contemporary English usage, which applies to different words with the same meaning.) In the case of singularity, we expect to capture and state the nature of the species in question. For illustrative purposes, let's again allow for the nature of humanity to be specifically defined as rational animals. Well, since man is a rational animal within the scope of its application, all similar products have some single essence.
In contrast, when synonyms fail, we have synonyms. According to Aristotle:
a and b are F of the same name, if (i) a is F, (ii) b is F, and (iii) F-ness the descriptions in "a is F" and "b is F" do not completely overlap.
To take a simple example that has no philosophical significance, bank is synonymous with "Socrates and Alsibyad had a picnic at the bank" and "Socrates and Alsibyad opened a joint account at the bank". This case is illustrative, if not interesting, because the bank accounts in these events have nothing in common. Part of Aristotle's philosophical interest in homophonic interpretation is that it allows for partial overlap. If we examine whether—using an illustration that is well suited to Aristotle's purpose but largely unexplored by him—conscious, things become more interesting because "Charlene is aware of some embarrassment caused by her remarks" and "higher vertebrates, unlike molluscs, conscious." In these cases, the case of synonyms or homonyms may not be very clear, so reflection and philosophical study are required.
According to Aristotle, this reflection often leads to the interesting discovery that we have been hypothesizing a single explanation but not actually having any. According to Aristotle, this is where platonists went wrong: they assumed that the world provided homophony or polysemy of singularity. (For a vivid illustration of Plato's assumption of singularity in his work, see Meno 71e1-72a5, in which Socrates insisted that only one kind of excellence (aretê) was common to all good people, not males, females, separate types of slaves, children, and so on.) In a particularly important example, Aristotle and Plato parted ways on the question of the unity of good:
We might better consider the universal good and understand its implications— though we do not welcome such surveys, because the people who introduce the form are our friends. However, presumably, the best thing to do is to destroy even the things around us, because that's what is necessary to preserve truth — and even more so given that we are philosophers. While we all love them, piety requires us to respect the truth in the presence of our friends. ( EN 1096a11–16)
Aristotle retorted that Plato erroneously assumed that goodness was "universal, common to all good things, and single" (EN 1096a28). On the contrary, goodness is different in different situations. If he is right on this point, then the far-reaching implications for ethical theory and practice will follow.
To establish non-unitaryness, Aristotle appealed to various tests in his subjects, likewise, his idioms were linguistic, while his quarries were metaphysical. Consider the following sentence:
Socrates was good.
Communism is good.
After a light meal, the crème brëlée was delicious.
It's always good to go the extra mile after a failure.
Maria's singing voice is good, but Renata's singing voice is sublime.
Among the non-singularity tests recommended in the topic, there is a simple paraphrasing test: if the interpretation produces different, non-fungible accounts, the predicate is multilingual. So, for example, a suitable interpretation might be:
Socrates was a moral man.
Communism is a just social system.
After a light meal, the crème brëlée is both delicious and satisfying.
It's always good to work harder after failure.
Maria's singing voice reached a very high artistic standard, but Renata's singing voice exceeded that standard in any case.
Since we cannot interchange these interpretations, we cannot say, for example, that the caramel pudding is a just social system - good must cross the non-monosyms of the application within this range. If this is true, then platonists in this case are wrong to assume singularity, because goodness exhibits complexity that is ignored by their assumptions.
So far, then, Aristotle's appeal to homophony or polyphraseism has been largely destructive, as they seek to undermine platonic assumptions that Aristotle saw as unsustainable. Importantly, just as Aristotle saw the positive and negative effects of dialectics in philosophy, he envisioned that homonyms would have a philosophically constructive effect in addition to their destructive application. To understand his basic ideas, it helps to reflect on a range of positions in philosophical analysis, from pure platonic monotony to decomposing Wittgenstein family similarities. Faced with the successful challenge of Platonic monism, one might assume, for example, that the various cases of the good have nothing in common in all cases, so that good things can at best form a kind of noise.
Aristotle insisted that there was a TERTIUM pound family of similarities and pure monotony: he recognized and trumpeted, a species of core dependence of the same name (also known in the literature, accompanied by varying degrees of precision, such as the meaning of coke and coco Connexion). [10] Homonyms that rely on the core exhibit an order in diversity: although lacking in singularity, such concepts do not evolve into patchwork family similarities due to homophony. To rely on one of Aristotle's own favorite illustrations, consider:
Socrates is healthy.
Socrates' exercise regimen is healthy.
Socrates' complexion was healthy.
Aristotle assumed that his readers would immediately appreciate two of the three health predictions. First, they are non-monotonical, since the second can be roughly interpreted as promoting health, while the third means healthy, while the first means something more basic, such as the sound of the body or functioning well. Therefore, health is not monolithic. Second, even so, the last two predictions still rely on the first one: each one appeals to health in an asymmetrical way in its core sense. That is, any interpretation of each of the latter two predicates must allude to the first, and the narrative of the first does not mention the second or third in its narrative. Thus, Aristotle suggested that health is not only homophonic, but also homophonic that depends on the core: although not monosemantic, it is not a case of hierarchical multiplicity.
Aristotle's illustrations do succeed in showing that there is a conceptual space between pure familial similarity and pure singularity. So, he's right, these are not exhaustive choices. Interest in this result is that it can be derived into richer, more abstract philosophical concepts. Aristotle frequently appealed to homophony and encompassed a full range of philosophical concepts including justice, causation, love, life, identity, goodness, and the body. His most famous appeal to homophones that depend on the core comes from a highly abstract concept that makes it difficult to measure his success without extended metaphysical reflection. It was at the heart of his appeal that relied on the existence of the same name, which sparked both philosophical and scholarly debates. [11 ] Aristotle denied the existence of an existential science on the grounds that no single genus existed, all of them and only existed (SE 11 172a13-15-15; APr. 92b14; Met. B 3, 998b22 ; EEi 8, 1217b33–35)。 One motivation for his reasoning in this way may be that he considers the concept of genera to be indivisible in classification and contrast,[12] and therefore only if one can speak equally well of non-existence—just as animals and non-animals can be talked about between living things, i.e. The plant kingdom. Since there is no non-existence, there can be no non-existent genus, and therefore ultimately there is no genus that exists. Therefore, since every science studies a fundamental type arranged under a single genus, there can be no existential science.
Subsequently, without making it clear that reversing about a science existed in his judgment, Aristotle declared that there was still a science that QUA was (satisfied. IV. 4), the idea of supremacy, which requires life as its subject matter, as long as their life, therefore, considers only all the characteristics relating to the beings—i.e., beings, i.e., not to the extent that they are mathematical, physical, or human, but to the extent that they are beings, periods. Despite the controversy, his recognition of the science clearly lies in his commitment to the central reliance on homophony at the core of existence itself. [13 ] While this case is not as clear and uncontroversial as Aristotle's relatively easy appeal to health (which is why he chose it as an illustration), we should be able to find the following examples of similar core dependencies through reflection:
Socrates existed.
Socrates' position exists.
Socrates weighs up to 73 kg.
Socrates' melancholy today is there.
Of course, the last three items on this list are rather awkward wording, but that's because they try to show that if we want to, we can say that dependent existence exists — but only because they depend on the existence of the core instance, i.e. matter. (It is worth noting here that "principal substance" is Aristotle's regular and less pleasant translation of protê ousia in Greek, more literally meaning "principal existence"). [14] According to this approach, if it were not for the prior fact of Socrates' existence, we would not have any trade-offs or feelings of Socrates today. Therefore, the existence of the first instance as the core instance of existence, other instances will be explained in this way. If this is true, then it means that Aristotle, existence is a homonym dependent on the core; moreover, the science of existence—or, rather, the science of existence as existence—becomes possible, even if there is no genus that exists, because it is ultimately possible to study all existence associated with the core instance of existence, and then also to study that core instance, the entity, as far as it is concerned as the principal context of existence.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="137" >6</h1>
Speaking of existence dependent on substance, Aristotle implicitly appeals to the fundamental philosophical promise that emerged early in his thought and remained stable throughout his philosophical career: his categorical theory. In The Category, which is often regarded as an early work, Aristotle declared rather abruptly:
Of the things spoken in the absence of a combination, each represents: (i) entity (ousia) ;(ii) quantity; (iii) quality; (iv) kinship; (v) where; (vi) when; (vii) in a certain position; (viii) possession; (ix) action; or (x) affected. (Cats.) 1b25-27）
Aristotle barely constructed his categorical theory, did not provide a clear derivation, and did not even publicly state the content of his categorical classification. If librarians classify books and botanists classify plants, then what do philosophical categorists classify?
Aristotle does not specify this explicitly, but his example makes it fairly clear that he meant to classify the types of fundamental existence that might exist. If we again take some clues from linguistic data, rather than inferring that the final object of the classification is itself a language, we can compare what is said "combination":
Men run.
Things say "no combination":
man
run
"Man runs" is an evaluatable truth, while neither "man" nor "run" is. Aristotle said that this kind of thing represents an entity, apparently a supraglobal entity, so that in the first case these entities are relatively complex enough to make the sentence "man running" true, i.e., man is running, and in the second case, an item below the level of truth-making, for example, an entity a man, taken by itself, an action is running, self-inflicted. If so, then entities categorized by category are those that are basic beings below the level of truth-maker or fact-maker. It can be said that these beings obviously contribute to the truth of facts, just as in their linguistic analogues, nouns, and verbs, things that are "uncombined" contribute to the assessment of the truth value of simple assertions. The components of a fact contribute to the fact because the semantically related part of a proposition helps it to have the truth-value condition it has. Therefore, projects classified as Aristotle are part of the facts. If socrates' pale face is a fact, then the basic existence is Socrates and pale face. In Aristotle's words, the first is substance, and the second is quality.
Importantly, these beings may be basic, not absolutely simple. After all, Socrates is made up of a wide variety of parts—arms and legs, organs and bones, molecules and atoms, and so on. As a useful linguistic analogy, we can consider phonemes, which are basic, relative to morphemes of linguistic theory, but also complex because they consist of simpler sound components that, from a linguist's point of view, are irrelevant and they lie below the level of semantic relevance.
Category theory recognizes the fundamental existence of ten supra-languages in total:
<col>
category
illustration
substance
Man, horse
quality
White, syntactical
quantity
Two feet long
relative
Double, slave
place
In the market
Time
Yesterday, tomorrow
location
Lie down and sit
possess
There are shoes
Take action
Cutting, burning
Affected
Cut, burned
Although Aristotle does not say so clearly in the categories, it is clear that Aristotle assumed that these ten categories of existence were both exhaustive and irreducible, and therefore that, although there were no other fundamental beings, it was impossible to exclude any of these categories in favor of the other.
Both claims have been criticized, and each certainly needs to be defended. [15] Aristotle neither provided a conviction defense in his classification. In fact, he did not provide any principled basis for the existence of these categories, a situation that made him vulnerable to further criticism by later philosophers, including the famous Kant, who, after praising Aristotle for proposing the concept of categories, went on to rebuke him for choosing his particular category on the basis of no principles. Kant claims that Aristotle chose his category of existence, as he stumbled upon in his reverie (Critique of Pure Reason, A81/B107). According to Kant, Aristotle's category is ungrounded. Philosophers and scholars before and after Kant sought to provide the required foundation, while Aristotle himself was primarily inclined to justify category theory by applying it to his various philosophical studies.
In conveying two of Aristotle's claims to categorical theory, we have already implicitly encountered: (i) in his approach to time, he regarded time as non-physical; and (ii) in his commitment to the central dependence of existence on homophony, which introduced some more controversial considerations. These can be briefly reviewed to illustrate how Aristotle thought his theory of categories provided philosophical guidance where it was most needed.
The first reflection and its various puzzles, or aporiai, we see Aristotle asking a simple question: Does time exist? He answered the question in the affirmative, but only because he ultimately saw it as a clearly defined one. He claimed that "time is a measure of movement before and after" (Phys. 219b1-2）。 By providing this definition, Aristotle was able to advance the judgment that time does exist, because it is an entity in the quantitative category: time is in motion or in flux, just as length is a straight line. Time therefore exists, but like all items in any immaterial category, it exists in a dependent way. Just as there is no length without lines, there is no time without change. Now, this feature of Aristotle's theory of time has provoked criticism and favorable reactions. [16] In the current context, however, it is important that it is used only to illustrate how Aristotle dealt with existential problems: they were fundamentally about problems of category members. For Aristotle, the question of whether there is a universal or a place or a relation is ultimately also a question of the category of their existence, if any.
Since time is a dependent entity in Aristotle's theory, so are entities in categories other than all entities. This helps explain why Aristotle thought it was appropriate to deploy, and his core relied on the device of the same name in cases. If we asked whether quality or quantity existed, Aristotle would answer in the affirmative, but also pointed out that as dependent entities, they do not exist as independent entities. Thus, even in the case of relative thinness, the class theory provides a reason for discovering the same name for core dependency. Since the existence of all other kinds depends on the entity, an analysis of any of them will eventually produce an asymmetrical reference to the entity. Aristotle, in his Categories, relied on tracking the difference between basic (said-of) and accidental (in) predictions, namely:
All other things are either said to be their subjects or exist in them as subjects. Therefore, nothing else could have existed without raw matter. (Cats.) 2b5-6）
If so, then Aristotle deduced that all immaterial categories have matter at the core of existence. Thus, he concludes, as a case of core dependence on homophones.
One can now argue here about Aristotle's argument, first by inquiring whether he has established a non-monolithic meaning that is before embarking on its core dependency. Nevertheless, if we allow it to be non-unitary, then, according to Aristotle, the apparatus of categories provides sufficient reason to conclude that there are philosophically important instances that qualify as core dependencies on homophony.
Thus, Aristotle's philosophy of existence and substance, like many other things in his philosophy, depended on an advance commitment to his category theory. In fact, category theory has continued throughout his career and provided a scaffold for many of his philosophical theories, from metaphysics and natural philosophy to psychology and value theory.
For this reason, the question of whether Aristotle's theory of categories ultimately holds holds has a particular urgency for assessing much of his philosophy.
For more details on category theory and its foundations, see the aristotle article on categories.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" data-track="182" >7</h1>
Just as important as Aristotle's thought is his four-cause interpretation scheme. Judging by its influence, this doctrine is undoubtedly one of his most important philosophical contributions. Like other philosophers, Aristotle hoped that the explanations he sought in philosophy and science would meet certain standards of sufficiency. Unlike some other philosophers, however, he was careful to articulate his standard of sufficiency. Then, after doing so, he often accused his predecessor of failing to live up to its terms. He states his plan in a methodological paragraph from his second book on physics:
One way to talk about the causes is the creation and persistence of things, such as bronze of statues, silver of bowls, and bronze and silver are genera of species.
In another way, the cause is called a form or pattern, i.e. what is mentioned in the account that belongs to the essence and its genus (logo), such as the reason for the octave is a 2:1 ratio, or a more general number, and the part mentioned in the account (logo).
In addition, the main sources of change and rest are called causes, for example, thoughtful people are a cause, fathers are children's causes, and in general, the maker is the cause of what causes and what brings about Change is the cause of change.
In addition, the end (telos) is called the cause. This is for (hou heneka) to do one thing, such as health is the reason for moving around. "Why is he walking around?" We say, "Be healthy" — that being said, we think we've pointed out why.
(Physical.) 194b23-35）
Although some of Aristotle's illustrations are not immediately clear, his method of interpretation is fairly simple.
Aristotle's attitude toward interpretation is best understood first by considering a simple example he proposes in Physics II 3. A bronze statue allows for the interpretation of a variety of different dimensions. Aristotle believed that if we were confronted with a statue without first recognizing what it was, we would spontaneously ask a series of questions about it. We'll wonder what it is, what it's made of, what brought it up about, and what it's about. In Aristotle's words, in asking these questions, we are seeking knowledge of the four reasons for the statue (aitia): formal, material, efficient, and final. According to Aristotle, when we identify these four causes, we satisfy the reasonable requirement of adequacy of explanation.
More fully, the explanation of the four causes of sufficiency requires investigators to cite these four reasons:
<col style="width: 88px;">
Four causes
material
Something that produces and makes something, such as the bronze of a statue.
formal
Things are realized in structure, and according to it become something certain, for example, the shape of a president, so it is said that this amount of bronze is a statue of a president.
Efficient
The agent responsible for the quantity of material to be notified, such as the sculptor who shaped the quantity of bronze into the current shape, i.e. the shape of the president.
final
The purpose or goal of the complex of form and matter, such as statues created in honor of the president.
In Physics II 3, Aristotle asserts a double claim to this four-factor pattern: (i) citing all four causes is necessary for a full explanation; (ii) these four causes are sufficient to explain. Each of these declarations requires some elaboration and some qualifications.
As for the claim of necessity, Aristotle does not assume that all phenomena recognize all four causes. So, for example, coincidences lack the ultimate cause because they don't happen for anything; after all, what makes them coincidences. If the debtor meets her creditor on her way to the market to buy milk, who is going to the same market to buy bread, she may agree to pay the arrears immediately. Although the desired results were achieved, their meeting was not to pay off the debt; it was not really for anything. It was a simple coincidence. Therefore, it lacks the ultimate cause. Similarly, if we think that there are mathematical or geometric abstractions, such as triangles as objects of thought independent of any material realization,[17] nevertheless, leaving aside these important exceptions, Aristotle hopes that the vast majority of explanations conform to his four-cause model. In non-exceptional cases, he insisted that the failure to elaborate on all four reasons was a failure to explain sufficiency.
The declaration of adequacy is without exception, although it can be misleading if a related issue is ignored. In providing an explanation of the material causes, Aristotle first quoted the bronze of the statue and the silver of the bowl, and then also mentioned that "bronze and silver are the genera of the species" (Phys. 194b25-27）。 He means silver and bronze belong to the type of metal, or more generally just metal. That is, one can specify the material cause of the statue more or less approximately by specifying the characteristics of things with more or less precision. Thus, when Aristotle implies that quoting all four reasons is sufficient to explain, Aristotle does not intend to imply any general level of quotation is sufficient. What he meant was to insist that there was no fifth reason, and that the four situations he preferred contained all types of causes. He doesn't fully support this conclusion, although he does challenge his readers to identify a different cause than the four above (Phys. 195a4-5）。
So far, then, Aristotle's four causal schemas have any intuitive plausibility that his illustrations can provide. However, he was not satisfied with this. On the contrary, he argues that he can argue forcefully that these four causes are real explanatory factors, that is, as features that must be cited, not only because they can provide satisfactory explanations, but also because they are causal factors that really work, and the omission of these factors would make any constructive explanation objectively incomplete and therefore inadequate.
It should be noted that Aristotle's argument for the four causes alone is all carried out in the context of the universal connection he established between causal explanation and knowledge. Because he believes that these four aitia are answering the question of knowledge, seeking the function of the question (physics. 194b18; mother-in-law. In 71b 9-11 94 20), some scholars have begun to understand more about their causes as becauses are not causes —that is, as explanations rather than narrow explanations of causes. [18] Most such judgments reflect an advance commitment to one or another view of causation and interpretation—causation is related to events rather than propositions; explanations are related to inquiry; causal relations are extended, explanations are connotative; explanations must follow some form of economic deductive model, and causes do not need to; or causes must precede their results in time, and explanations, especially intentional explanations, may appeal to the state of affairs that follow their interpreted behavior.
In general, Aristotle did not respect these commitments. Thus, to the extent that they are defensible, his approach to aitia may be seen as obscuring the criteria of causation and interpretation. However, of course, aristotle should not be presupposed that Aristotle had committed any such obfuscation, nor should it even explain his four aitia scholars in terms of causality to grasp the development of causal theory. Hume. Conversely, due to the lack of uniformity in contemporary interpretations of causation and interpretation, and the persistent and rational tendency to regard causal explanations as the basis for opposing other types of interpretations, we may reasonably doubt whether Aristotle's four concepts of aitia are discontinuous in any important respect with the later Hume-inspired approach, and then, to some extent, whether Aristotle's approach will be affected by comparison. Nevertheless, we will do a good job in considering Aristotle's defense of his four aitias, remembering that the controversy revolves around how best to explain his knowledge-driven causality and methods of interpretation in relation to some later methods.
For more information on the four causes, see Aristotle's entry on causation.
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At the heart of Aristotle's four-cause explanation of explanatory sufficiency are the concepts of matter (hulê) and form (eidos or morphê). Together, they constitute one of his most fundamental philosophical commitments to hylomorphism:
Hylomorphism = df Ordinary objects are combinations of matter and form.
The appeal of this definition to "ordinary objects" requires reflection, but as a first approximation, it relies on various examples that Aristotle himself used in stimulating hylomorphism: statues and houses, horses and humans. In general, we may focus on artefacts and familiar creatures. Hylomorphism argues that no such object is metaphysically simple, but contains two different metaphysical elements, one formal and one material.
Aristotle's hylomorphism was originally developed to deal with the various conundrums of change. Thanks to Parmenides and Zeno, the inherent challenges that Aristotle faced in his physics were some notable challenges to the coherence of the concept of change. As we have already seen, Aristotle's initial impulse to face these challenges was to maintain the appearance (phainomena) to explain how change is possible. The key to Aristotle's response to the challenges left to him was his insistence that all change involves at least two factors: something that persists and something that is gained or lost. So when Socrates went to the beach to tan and leave, something continued to exist, namely Socrates, even though something was lost, his paleness, and something else, his tan. This is a change in the category of quality, so the common term is "quality change". If he gains weight, then Socrates will leave something behind, and add something, in this case the quantity of matter. Therefore, in this case, we do not have a qualitative change, but a change in quantity.
In general, Aristotle believed that whatever category a change takes place, something is lost within that category, and something is gained within that category, even if something else, an entity, remains, as the subject of this change. Of course, matter can be produced or disappeared, in the case of creation or destruction; these are variations in the category of matter. However, it is clear that even as this category changes, certain things remain. To take an example in favor of Aristotle, bronze still exists in the case of the creation of the statue, but it acquires a new form, a substantial rather than accidental form. In all cases, whether substantial or accidental, a two-factor analysis will conclude that some things remain the same, and some things gain or lose.
In its most basic formulation, hylomorphism simply labels each of two factors: what persists is matter, and what is obtained is form. However, as the concepts of matter and form were pressed into philosophical service, Aristotle's hylomorphism soon became more complex. It is important that matter and form begin to be paired with another fundamental distinction, namely the distinction between potential and reality. Once again in the case of the production of the statue, we can say that bronze may be a statue, but it is a practical if and only if it is notified in the form of a statue. Of course, before it was made into a statue, this bronze could also have been quite a few other artifacts — cannons, steam engines, or goals on a soccer field. Still, it's not potential for butter or beach balls. This shows that potential does not equate with possibility: to say that x is a potential F means that x already has actual characteristics by virtue of which it can become F by imposing the form of F. Therefore, in view of these different links, forms and substances can be defined as general
Form = df may be F is actually F
Substance = df something that persists, for some range of F s, may be F
Of course, these definitions are circular, but this is not a problem in itself: for Aristotle, reality and potential are fundamental concepts that allow interpretation and description but not reduction analysis.
Summarizing Aristotle's discussion of change in physics i 7 and 8, and illustrating the problem more clearly than he himself, we have the following simple argument for matter and form: (1) the necessary condition for change is the existence and form of matter; (b) there are changes; therefore (3) there are substances and forms. The second premise is a phenomenon; therefore, if this is accepted without further defence, there is only one need for reasons. The first premise is justified by the idea that since there is no ex nihilo, in every changing case, some things will persist and others will gain or lose. In the production or destruction of substance, substantial form is acquired or lost; in mere accidental change, the form gained or lost is itself accidental. Since these two ways of variation exhaust the variety of changes, there are two factors in each variation instance. These are matter and form.
For these reasons, Aristotle hoped that his hylomorphism would be more than just a simple explanatory heuristic. On the contrary, he insisted that matter and form are the independent characteristics of the world from the mind and must therefore be mentioned in any complete interpretation of their operation.
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We may have largely overlooked the suggestion that there is one of the most controversial and difficult of the four causes in favor of Aristotle, namely the valid cause of the ultimate cause. [19] Before doing so, however, we should note that Aristotle's commitment to effective causation did defend Aristotle's preferred term. As a result, he did more than many other philosophers who believed that the causes of efficiency were valid. Aristotle observed, in part, by criticizing Plato's theory of form (which he argued was inadequate due to its inability to explain change and generation) that no potential could be realized without an agent of practically valid causes. Since what is latent is always potential relative to some range of reality, and nothing automatically becomes a reality — for example, no pile of bricks spontaneously organizes itself into a house or a wall — everyone needs a practical agent. An instance of the change. This is the reason for the validity. These considerations also led Aristotle to speak of reality taking precedence over potential: potential is transformed from reality to reality, and indeed always directed against the potential of some reality. The effect of certain realities on certain potentials is an example of effective causality.
That is, most Aristotle readers do not need to justify the existence of an effective causal relationship. By contrast, most people argue that Aristotle really needed to justify the ultimate causal relationship. We naturally and easily identify the ultimate causal activity in the products of human craftsmanship: computers and can openers are devices dedicated to performing certain tasks, and their form and material characteristics will be explained by the attraction to their functions. Nor is it a mystery where artefacts get their functions: we give them the functions we give to artefacts. The purpose of the artefact is to intentionally represent the result of a design activity. Aristotle acknowledged these ultimate causalities, but more problematically, he envisioned teleology as having a much greater role in the interpretation of nature: nature showed teleology without design. For example, he argues that organisms not only have parts that require teleological explanations —for example, the kidneys are torn and chewed food to purify blood and teeth— but that organisms as a whole, humans and other animals, also have ultimate causes.
Crucially, Aristotle's public denial that the reasons that essentially work are intent-dependent. He argues that organisms have ultimate causes, but they do not arise through some deliberate agent or the design activity of someone else. Therefore, he denied that x had a necessary condition for the ultimate reason that x was designed.
Although Aristotle's commitment to this natural purpose has been criticized, Aristotle was not easily influenced by the standard opposition to his views. Indeed, it is clear that whatever the most persuasive virtue of these criticisms, most of the criticisms directed directly at Aristotle are shocking illiterate. [20] Citing just one of a few numbing examples, the famous American psychologist BF Skinner revealed that "Aristotle believed that a falling body would accelerate because the closer it found itself to home, the happier it became" (1971, 6). For anyone who has actually read Aristotle, it is not surprising that this description does not come with a textual reference. For Aristotle, as Skinner portrays, rocks are conscious beings, they have final states, and they enjoy acquiring these states so much that as they get closer and closer to reaching them, they accelerate in excitement. There was no excuse for this intellectual laziness, and by the late 19th century,
In fact, there is little need to caricature Aristotle's teleological promises in order to bring them into the focus of criticism. In fact, Aristotle offers two defenses of unintentional teleology in nature, the first of which is fraught with difficulties. He claims in Physics II 8:
For these [ie. Teeth and all other parts of natural life] and all other natural things always or mostly happen, while what happens due to chance or spontaneity always or mostly happens. ...... Then, if these are either the result of coincidence or for something, and they cannot be coincidental or spontaneous results, then they must be for something. Moreover, even those who make such declarations [i.e. ]. Everything is inevitable] will agree that these things are natural. Therefore, for the sake of it exists in things that naturally exist. (Physical.) 198b32–199a8）
The arguments here are expressed in different ways by scholars,[21] which seem to have a double problem.
In this argument, Aristotle seems to have introduced a phenomenon in which nature exhibits regularity, so that parts of nature appear in a patterned and regular way. So, for example, humans tend to arrange their teeth in a predictable way, with the front teeth in front and the molars in the back. Then he seems to argue that, as an exhaustive and exclusive separation, things happen either by accident or for the sake of something, and finally only imply that what is "always or mostly"—that occurs in a patterned and predictable way—does not seem to be accidental. Thus, he concluded that whatever happened, always or in most cases, must have happened for the sake of something, and therefore must acknowledge the teleological causes. Thus, teeth always appear or mostly in front of the front teeth and molars in the back; since this is a regular and predictable event, this cannot be accidental. Since things that are not accidental have an ultimate cause, then teeth have an ultimate cause.
If so many grasp Aristotle's main arguments about teleology, then his views have no motive. This argument is first and foremost problematic because it assumes an exhaustive and exclusive separation between chance and for the sake of something. But apparently there are other possibilities. Hearts don't beat to make sounds, but they always do, not by accident. Secondly, if we express him correctly, it is confusing that Aristotle himself was aware of a counterexample of this view, and was indeed keen to point it out himself: although, he insisted, that bile was usually a predictable yellow, it was yellow neither by chance nor for anything. In fact, Aristotle mentions many such counterexamples (Part. An. 676b16–677b10, General Ann 778a29–b6). Thus, it seems that he is not to blame for the direct contradiction, either he has not been correctly described according to our interpretation of this argument, or he has simply changed his view of the teleological basis. Taking the first option, one possibility is that Aristotle did not really try to argue teleology from scratch in physics II 8, but rather thought that the existential teleological causes had been determined, and confined himself to observing many natural phenomena, i.e., those that always happen or mostly occurred, and was a good candidate for acknowledging teleological explanations.
This would provide the possibility of a broader motive for teleology, perhaps the kind that Aristotle offered elsewhere in physics, when it comes to the impulse to look for non-intent-dependent teleological causes in nature:
This is most evident in animals other than humans: they use neither craftsmanship nor are they based on inquiry or deliberation. For those who want to know whether these creatures work out of reason or some other ability, this is actually a source of confusion – spiders, ants, and so on. Moving forward little by little in the same direction, it is clear that even in plants there will be features that contribute to the end – for example, leaves are grown to provide shade for the fruit. If swallows build nests, spiders build webs, are born and for purpose, plants grow leaves for fruit, and root for nutrition rather than rooting, then it is simple. This reason plays a role in what comes naturally. Because nature is dual, as matter and form, form is the end, and since everything else is for the purpose, form must be the cause for the purpose. (Physical.) 199a20–32)
As Aristotle very correctly observes in this passage, in describing the characteristics of non-human animals and plants, we find ourselves speaking frequently and easily in teleological terms. Of course, this is consistent with how we say that all of our simple language in these contexts is too easy: it is actually lax and careless, because it is groundlessly human-centric. When we are scientifically rigorous and empirically serious, we may also require that all these languages be painstakingly reduced to some non-teleological idioms, although we first need to investigate the explanatory costs and benefits of what we try to do. Aristotle considered and rejected some of the teleologically hostile views in Physics II 8 and Genome and Corruption i. [ 22 ]
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Once Aristotle's four-cause explanatory schema was fully present on the scene, he relied on it for almost all of the most advanced philosophical studies. When he deploys it in various frameworks, we find that he is expanding and refining the pattern even when applying patterns, sometimes with surprising results. An important question concerns how his hylomorphism intersects with the theory of substance proposed in the context of his category theory.
As we have already seen, Aristotle insisted in his category on the primacy of the principal entity. However, according to this work, stellar instances of predominantly matter are familiar organisms such as Socrates or a horse (cat. 2a11014）。 However, with the advent of hylomorphism, these major substances were revealed as metaphysical complexes: Socrates was a complex of matter and form. So, now we don't have one but three potential major material candidates: form, matter, and a complex of matter and form. So the question arises: which of them is the main substance? Is it a substance, form or compound? The compound word corresponds to a basic empirical object and seems to be a basic prediction theme: we say that Socrates lived in Athens, not that his material life lived in Athens. Nevertheless, matter remains the basis of the compound and therefore seems to be a more fundamental subject than the compound, at least in the sense that it exists before and after it can exist. On the other hand, there was no certainty at all about the matter until it was told. So, maybe the form,
In his metaphysical book, which contains some of his most complex and fascinating studies of fundamental existence, Aristotle addressed forms (Met. vii 17）。 Hence the question arises as to how form satisfies Aristotle's final criterion of substance. As he says, he expects the entity to be a certain tode ti, but also something knowable, some essence or something else. These criteria seem to have different directions, first in favor of specific substances, as the main substances of the category have always been special, and second in favor of universality as entities, since only they are knowable. In the heated debate over these questions, many scholars have concluded that Aristotle took a third approach: form is both knowable and special. However, there is still a very sharp controversy on this issue. [ 23 ]
Quite simply, without touching on these controversies, it is clear that Aristotle preferred form because of its role in generative and diachronic persistence. When a statue is produced, or when a new animal appears, something persists, namely matter, which fulfills the physical form in question. Even so, Aristotle insisted that matter alone could not provide the same conditions for a new entity. First of all, as we have already seen, this thing is only possible for some °F until it is actually caused by the presence of °F in such a time as °F. In addition, the matter can be supplemented, and is supplemented in the case of all living organisms, and therefore appears to be form-dependent on its own diachronic identity conditions. For these reasons, Aristotle believed that form preceded matter and was therefore more fundamental than matter. Aristotle regarded this substance, i.e., matter related to form, as an approximation of the substance (Met. 1038b6, 1042b10), thus extending the concept of matter beyond its original role as a metaphysical substrate.
Moreover, in Metaphysics vii 17, Aristotle provides a suggestive argument that matter itself cannot become an entity. Let the various substances belonging to Socrates be labeled a, b, c, ..., n. Consistent with the non-existence of Socrates is a , b , c , ... , n , because these elements exist when they propagate from here to Alpha Centauri , but if this happens, of course, Socrates no longer exists. Turning in the other direction, Socrates can exist without these elements, because when a, b, c, ..., n are replaced or do not exist. So, in addition to his material elements, Aristotle insisted that Socrates was also something else, something more (heon ti; Met. 1041b19-20）。 It's more of a form, it's "not an element ... It's the main reason why things are essential" (Met. 1041b28-30）。 As we have already seen, the reason why things become actual things is form. Thus, Aristotle concluded, as a source of existence and unity, form is substance.
Even if so much is gained — and again, much of what has just been said is inevitably controversial — many problems remain. For example, is it better to understand form as universal or special? However, the question to be solved is, what is the relationship between form and compounds and substances? If form is substance, what is the fate of the other two candidates? If to a lower degree, are they also substances? It seems strange to conclude that they are nothing, or that the compound is actually nothing. However, it is difficult to say that they may belong to some category other than substance.
For solutions to some of these problems, see Aristotle's Metaphysical Entry.
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However, these and similar problems remain to be solved, and given the primacy of form as an entity, it is not surprising that Aristotle identified the soul as the principle or source of all life (archê) as a living compound. For Aristotle, in fact, all living things, not just human beings, have souls: "there is a difference between what has a soul and what does not" (DA 431a20-22; see DA 412a13, 423a20-6; De Part. An. 687a24–690a10；Met. 1075a16–25）。 Well, it is appropriate to deal with all objects with souls in hylomorphic terms:
The soul is the cause and source of living beings. But the cause and source have multiple meanings [or the same name]. Similarly, according to the manner described, the soul is a cause, and these three ways are: (i) the cause as the source of motion [= dynamic cause], (ii) for it [= ultimate cause], and (iii) matter as an object with a soul. The cause of it is matter is clear, because matter is the cause of the existence of all things, for living things, existence is life, and the soul is also the cause and source of life. (DA 415b8-14; see PN 467b12-25, Physics 255a56-10)
So, the soul and the body are only special cases of form and matter:
Soul: Body::Form:Matter::Reality:Potential
In addition, the end of the soul as a composite organism is also the ultimate cause of the body. At the very least, this should be understood as the idea that any given body is a body because it is organized around a function that can unify the entire organism. In this sense, the unity of the body stems from the fact that it has a single purpose or a single direction of life, which Aristotle captured by describing the body as an organic substance (organikon; DA 412a28）。 What he meant was that the body was a tool used to carry out the characteristic life activities of the species to which the organism belonged (organ = tool Greek). Taking all this into account, Aristotle argues that the soul is "the first status quo of the natural organism" (DA 412b5-6), that it is a "matter as a form of the natural body which has potential in lifespan" (DA 412a20-1), and again emphasizes that it is "the first reality of the natural body with potential vitality" (DA 412a27-8).
Aristotle argues that his hylomorphism provides an attractive intermediate way that he considers to be the mirror image of his predecessors over.5 On the one hand, he meant rejecting pre-Socratic materialism; on the other hand, he opposed Plato's dualism. He argues that the pre-Socratic school identified the material causes of life, but then accused them of failing to grasp their formal causes. In contrast, Plato was praised for grasping the formal causes of life; unfortunately, when Aristotle looked at things, he began to ignore material causes and began to believe that the soul could exist without a material basis. In Aristotle's view, Hylomorphism captures what is right in both camps while avoiding the unnecessary one-dimensionality of each camp. To explain organisms, Aristotle argued that
Aristotle deployed not only hylomorphic analysis to the whole organism, but also to the various faculties of the soul. Perception involves the acceptance of sensible forms without matter, while thinking, by analogy, lies in the fact that the mind is shaped by intelligible forms. Through each of these extensions, Aristotle both expanded his basic hylomorphism and added a burden that sometimes barely recognized its basic framework.
For more details on Aristotle's hylomorphism in his interpretation of psychology, see the entry for Aristotle's Psychology.
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Aristotle's basic teleological framework extended to his ethical and political theories, which he considered to be mutually reinforcing. He thinks that most people want a good life; then the question becomes what the best life for human beings includes. Because he believes that the best life for humans is not a matter of subjective preference, he also believes that people can (and sadly, often do) choose to lead sub-optimal lives. To avoid this unfortunate ending, Aristotle suggested reflecting on the criteria that any successful candidate must meet. He went on to propose a life that uniquely met these standards, thus elevating it to a higher form of human life. It is a life of living according to reason.
In stating the general criteria for the ultimate interests of mankind, Aristotle invited his readers to recall them (EN 1094a22-27). This is desirable because much of the work of categorizing a candidate's life is actually done during a higher-level task that determines the criteria for the task. Once these have been determined, Aristotle can dismiss some competitors relatively directly, such as hedonism, the perennial popular view that hedonism is the highest interest of mankind.
According to the proposed criteria, the ultimate interests of humanity must: (i) pursue for its own benefit (EN 1094a1) ;(ii) make us want something else for it (EN 1094a19) ;(iii) for other reasons we do not want to do so (EN 1094a21) ;(iv) complete ( teleion ), i.e. it is always worth choosing and always choosing for itself ( EN 1097a26-33) Finally (v) self-sufficiency (autarkês) because its presence is sufficient to leave life with nothing (EN 1097b6-16). Obviously, in the face of these criteria, some candidates who live their best lives will fail. According to Aristotle, neither a life of pleasure nor a life of honor can satisfy them.
What satisfied them all was the happiness eudaimonia. In fact, scholars debate whether eudaimonia is better translated as "happy," "prosperous," or "living well," or simply transliterating and leaving an untranslated technical term. [24] If we have established that happiness is some subjective state, perhaps a simple satisfaction of desires, then "happiness" is indeed an inappropriate translation: eudaimonia, according to Aristotle, is achieved by fully knowing our nature, by maximizing our human capacities, neither our nature nor our gift of human abilities is a matter of our choice. Still, as Aristotle frankly admitted, people would not hesitate to agree on the suggestion that happiness is our best good —even if there are significant differences in their understanding of happiness. So while it seems to agree, there are actually differences in the interests of humanity. Therefore, it is necessary to reflect on the nature of happiness (eudaimonia):
But perhaps to say that the highest good is eudaimonia seems to be a cliché, but what is wanted is to express more clearly what it is. If human function (ergon) is determined, perhaps this will happen. For flute players, sculptors and craftsmen of all kinds, good and well done—in general, for anything that has function and characteristic movements—seem to depend on function, so the same applies to a person, if one does have a certain function. Or do carpenters and shoemakers have their functions, while humans do not, and naturally have no function (argon)? Or rather, just as the eyes and hands and each part of the average person seem to have some kind of special function, in addition to all these functions, should one set a special function for humans in the same way? What could it be? Because life is common even for plants, and some kind of idion is needed; therefore, the nutrition and growth of life should be abandoned. What followed was a certain perceived life, but this was also common for horses and bulls and every animal. Therefore, what remains is the life of action that belongs to the rational soul. ( EN 1097b22–1098a4)
In determining what eudaimonia contains, Aristotle makes a crucial appeal to human functioning (ergon) and thus also appeals to his general teleological framework.
He argues that he can determine human function from a rational point of view, which provides an adequate basis for describing happy life as a rational application that involves primarily practice or theory. Happiness turns out to be an activity of the rational soul, carried out according to virtue or excellence, or, in the same thing, excelling in rational activity (EN 1098a161-17). It is worth noting in this regard that Aristotle's word for virtue istê has a broader primary meaning than the English word 'virtue', as it encompasses a variety of excellence and therefore includes but goes beyond moral virtue. Thus, when he says that happiness lies in "conformity with virtue" (kat' aretên; EN 1098a18), Aristotle means that this is an excellent activity, not just an activity of moral virtue.
The proposal that only a rational act that is performed well or morally can constitute the human happiness provides the impetus for Aristotle's ethics of virtue. Strikingly, first, he insists that the good life is the active life; no country is enough because we are praised and praised for living a good life, and we are only rightly praised or praised for what we (do) (EN1105b20–1106a13). Moreover, given that we are not only to act, but also to perform well or to be moral, it is the responsibility of ethical theorists to identify virtues or excellences regarding personal virtues, including, for example, courage and practical wisdom. This is why much of Aristotle's ethical writings are used to study virtue, whether general or special, and extend to practical and theoretical forms.
For more information on Aristotle's virtue-based ethics, see Aristotle's Ethics Entry.
Aristotle ended his discussion of human happiness in his Nicomachean ethics by introducing political theory as a continuation and refinement of ethical theory. Ethical theories depict the best forms of human life; political theories describe the forms of social organization that are best suited for their realization (EN 1181b12-23).
Aristotle's basic political unit was the city-state, which was both a state in which a monopoly was wielded by an authority and a sense of meaning in a civil society that had varying degrees of convergence of interests in a range of organized communities. Aristotle's political theory was markedly different from some later liberal theories in that he did not believe that the city-state needed to be justified as an institution that threatened to violate pre-existing human rights. On the contrary, he proposes a form of political naturalism that treats human beings as innate political animals, not only in the weak sense of social tendencies, but even in the sense that they benefit only from mutual commercial exchanges, but in a strong sense that their prosperity as human beings is entirely within the framework of an organized city-state. The city-state "came into being for the sake of life, but the sake of its goodness remains" (Bol 1252b29-30; See 1253a31-37).
The city-state was thus judged by its opposition to the goal of promoting human happiness. A superior form of political organization can improve human life; a lower form hinders and hinders it. Thus, one of the main questions pursued in Aristotle's political science is made up of this question: What kind of political arrangement best serves the goals of development and human prosperity? Aristotle considered quite a few different forms of political organization and saw most of them as goals that were detrimental to human happiness. For example, given his general framework, he can effortlessly reject contractualism, since it sees only those forms of political activity that actually partly constitute human flourishing as instruments (Pol. iii 9).
In considering possible types of political organizations, Aristotle relied on structural observations that rulers may be one, minority, or multiple, and that their forms of rule may be legal or illegitimate, as measured by the goal of promoting human prosperity (Pol. 1279a26-31）。 Taken together, these factors give rise to six possible forms of government, three right and three abnormal:
right
abnormal
One foot
royalty
tyranny
Minority rulers
aristocrat
oligarchy
Many rulers
polity
democracy
The difference between right and abnormal lies in their relative ability to fulfill the basic function of the city-state: to live well. Given that we value human happiness, Aristotle insisted that we should prefer the form of political union that best suits that goal.
Aristotle believed that in order to promote human prosperity, it was necessary to maintain an appropriate level of distributive justice. Thus, he partly classifies better and worse governments through considerations of distributive justice. He argues in a way that is directly similar to his attitude towards eudaimonia that everyone will find it easy to agree with the proposition that we should choose a just state over an unjust state, and even agree with the formal proposal that the distribution of justice requires equal treatment of equal demands over unequal demands. Still, people will also differ in what constitutes an equality or inequality proposition, or more generally, equal or unequal person. Democrats would assume that all citizens were equal, while the nobility would assume that the best citizens were clearly superior to inferior citizens. Correspondingly, democrats would expect formal constraints of justice to bring about equal distribution for all, while the aristocracy would take it for granted that the best citizens were entitled to more than the worst citizens.
In collating these claims, Aristotle relied on his own interpretation of distributive justice, as proposed in Nicomachean Ethics v 3. This explanation is very elitist. Thus, he belittled the oligarchs, who believed that justice required priority demands on the rich, but also demeaned democrats, who believed that the state must promote the freedom of all its citizens, regardless of their merits. The best city-state does not have these two functions: its goal is to promote human prosperity, and freedom is at best a tool, not a goal for its own sake.
Nonetheless, given our deep and enduring propensity to acquire, we should also take a sober look at what may actually happen to humanity. Given these trends, it turns out that, despite the biases, democracy may still play a central role in mixed constitutions, which are the best form of political organization available to us. Although it is inferior to the form of government (i.e., by many people serving the goal of human prosperity), and especially the nobility (ruled by the best of human beings, the nobility, also committed to the goal of human prosperity), democracy, as the best of all the dysfunctional forms of government, may also be the most we hope to achieve in reality.
For an in-depth discussion of Aristotle's political theory, including his political naturalism, see the entry on Aristotle's politics.
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Aristotle believed that rhetoric and art belonged to the science of production. As a family, these differ from the practical sciences of ethics and political science, which involve human behavior and theoretical science, which pursues truth only for the sake of truth. Because they focus on the creation of human products in a broad sense, the science of production includes activities with distinctly artificial products, such as ships and buildings, but also agriculture and medicine, and even more obscure rhetoric, aimed at producing persuasive speeches (Rhet. 1355b26; cf. Top. 149b5) and tragedy, the purpose of which is to produce enlightening drama (Poet. 1448b16-17). If we bear in mind that Aristotle dealt with all these activities in the broader context of his teleological explanatory framework, then at least some of the highly controversial explanatory difficulties surrounding his work in this field, especially in poetics, may be rigorously defined.
One of the controversies centers on the question of whether Aristotle's Rhetoric and Poetics is primarily descriptive or normative. [25] To the extent that they are indeed prescriptive, one might wonder whether Aristotle assumed in these treatises how figures such as Sophocles and Euripides best pursued their craft. In a way — but only to some extent — he seems to be. In any event, there are clearly defined elements in both texts. Nevertheless, he did not come up with these recommendations a priori. Instead, it is clear that Aristotle collected the best forensic speeches and tragic works he could get and studied them to discern the characteristics of their increasing success. In this way, he aims to capture and codify the best of rhetorical practices and tragedies, in each case associated with its proper production goals.
The overall goal of rhetoric is clear. Aristotle said that rhetoric "is the power to see the possible ways of persuasion in every situation" (Rhet 1355b26). However, different contexts require different techniques. Thus, Aristotle suggested, speakers often find themselves in one of three contexts where persuasion reigns supreme: discussion (Rhet. i 4-8), Popular (Rhet. i 9) and justice (Rhet. i 10-14）。 In each case, the speaker can use three main avenues of persuasion: the speaker's character, the emotional composition of the audience, and the general argument of the speech itself (Logos). I 3). Thus, rhetoric examines persuasion techniques according to each of these fields.
In discussing these techniques, Aristotle draws heavily on topics addressed in his writings on logic, ethics, and psychology. In this way, Rhetoric elucidates Aristotle's writings in these areas of relative theory by developing topics that are more abstractly dealt with elsewhere in concrete ways. For example, because successful persuasive speeches are alert to the emotional state of the listener during speech, Aristotle's rhetoric encompasses some of his most nuanced and specific treatments of emotions. Turning in another direction, a careful reading of rhetoric reveals that Aristotle saw the art of persuasion as very similar to dialectics (see section 4.3 above). Like dialectics, rhetoric uses techniques that are not strictly scientific (see section 4.2 above), and although its goal is to persuade, it recognizes that one will naturally find evidence and well-argued arguments persuasive (Rhet. 1354a1、1356a25、1356a30）。 Thus, rhetoric, like dialectics, begins with credible opinions ( endoxa ), although mainly popular kinds, rather than those most easily recognized by the wise (Top . 100a29-35; 104a8-20; Rhet. 1356b34）。 Finally, rhetoric concludes from these points that the viewer will understand that these conclusions follow convincing patterns of reasoning (Rhet 1354a12-18, 1355a5-21). For this reason, rhetoricians would also understand patterns of human reasoning very well.
For more information about Aristotle's rhetoric, see the Aristotle Rhetoric entry.
By highlighting and refining the techniques of successful presentation, rhetoric is clearly defined – but only relevant to the goal of persuasion. However, it does not choose its own goals, nor does it in any way determine the end of the persuasive speech: rather, the end of rhetoric is determined by the nature of the craft itself. In this sense, rhetoric, like Nicomachian ethics and politics, bears the imprint of Aristotle's extensive and all-encompassing teleology.
The same is true of poetics, but in this case the ending is not easily or uncontroversially articulated. It is often assumed that the goal of tragedy is catharsis—to purify or purify the emotions that are aroused in the performance of tragedy. Despite its popularity, this understanding is uncertain at best as an explanation of what Aristotle actually says in the Poetics. In defining tragedy in a general way, Aristotle claimed:
Tragedy, therefore, is an imitation of serious and complete behavior, and has a certain greatness. It imitates the text with a pleasant accompaniment, and each genre belongs to a different part of the work. It mimics human movements and does not rely on narrative. It achieves the catharsis of these emotions through pity and fear. (Poet. 1449b21-29）
Although he has claimed in countless scholarly works that tragedy was meant to be cathartic, Aristotle was in fact much more cautious. While he does argue that tragedy affects or completes catharsis, in doing so he does not use language that explicitly implies that catharsis itself is a function of tragedy. Although a good mixer reaches a blade speed of 36,000 rpm, this is not its function; instead, it achieves this speed in its function ( i.e. mixing ) . Similarly, in one way, tragedy achieves catharsis, although not because doing so is its function. This is still the case, even if it is an integral part of the fulfillment of its function, the realization of tragedy catharsis – since it makes us equally indispensable to the imitators (mimêsis) and does so by using words and pleasant accompaniments (i.e. rhythms, harmonies, and songs; poet 1447b27).
Unfortunately, Aristotle was not entirely frank on the question of the function of tragedy. One clue about his attitude comes from a passage he distinguishes tragedy from historical writing:
The difference between a poet and a historian is not that one writes in rhyme and the other does not; for one can write Herodotus's works into verses, and whether they have beats or not, they are still history. The difference is this: one says what has happened, the other says what might have happened. Thus, poetry is more philosophical and meaningful than history. Poets talk more about universality, while historians talk more about details. It is universal that when something develops in a certain way, people are likely or bound to act or speak in a certain way, which is the goal of the poet, although associating a particular name with a situation (poet 1451a38-1451b10).
Aristotle described poetry as more philosophical, universal, and meaningful than history, and praised the poet for his ability to analyze the deeper characteristics of the human character, dissect the ways in which human destiny engages and tests character, and shows how human weaknesses are magnified in unusual circumstances. However, we don't reflect on the character primarily for the sake of entertainment value. Instead, Aristotle in general thinks about the goal of tragedy in broadly rationalist terms: the function of tragedy is to "learn, that is, to figure out what every thing is" (poet 1448b16-17). In Aristotle's view, tragedy teaches us about ourselves.
That is, catharsis is undoubtedly a key concept in Aristotle's poetics, which, together with mimêsis, has caused great controversy. [26] These controversies focus on three poles of interpretation: the subject of catharsis, the problem of catharsis, and the nature of catharsis. To illustrate what it means: According to the naïve understanding of catharsis – although it is childish, which may be correct – the viewer (the subject) catharsis (nature) by clearing the emotions (substances) of pity and fear that he or she experiences. By altering these three possibilities, scholars have produced a variety of explanations—that the actors and even the tragic plot are the subject of catharsis, that purification is cognition or structure rather than emotion, and that catharsis is purification. Instead of purification. In the last contrast, just as we can purify the blood by filtering, rather than letting the blood purify the body, we can improve our mood by clearing out the more unhealthy elements, rather than getting rid of the emotions by completely eliminating them by. The difference is quite large, because in one view, emotions themselves are considered destructive and therefore need to be cleared, while on the other hand, emotions may be completely healthy, even if, like other mental states, they can be improved by refinement. The direct context of poetics alone does not ultimately resolve these controversies.
Aristotle said more about the imitation (imitation) of the second main concept of poetics. Although less controversial than catharsis, Aristotle's concept of mimesis is also controversial. [27] Aristotle saw imitation as an entrenched human tendency. He believed that, like political associations, imitation was natural. We start imitating from a very young age, and as we learn, we already learn language by imitating capable speakers, and then acquire character by seeing others as role models. In both ways, we imitate because we learn and grow in imitation, while for humans learning is both natural and a pleasure (Poets 1148b4-24). The same tendency, in more complex and sophisticated ways, leads us into the practice of theatre. Just as we engage in higher forms of imitation, imitation gives way to representation and depiction, we need not be seen as trying to replicate anyone or anything in the narrow sense. For tragedy is not merely a reproduction of the actual situation, but, as we saw in Aristotle distinguishing tragedy from history, talking about what might have happened, participating in universal themes in a philosophical way, and inspiring the viewer through their depictions. Thus, while imitation is fundamentally a simple imitation, it becomes more complex and powerful when it serves the goal of tragedy, especially in the hands of poets who are able to put it to good effect.
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Aristotle's influence is incalculable. His school, Lyceum, continued to exist for some time after his death, but exactly how long it lasted is unclear. In the century after his death, Aristotle's works seem to have ceased to circulate; they reappeared in the first century BC, after which they began to spread, at first narrowly, but later much more widely. They eventually formed the backbone of philosophy for about seven centuries, in the form of a critical tradition, in which much of the original philosophy was carried out within the broad Aristotle framework. They also played a very important role in the Neoplatonic philosophy of Plotinus and Porphyry, even in the subordinate . Thereafter, from the 6th to the 12th century, although most of Aristotle's writings were lost in the West, they were widely considered in Byzantine and Arabic philosophies, where Aristotle was so prominent that he was simply called the first teacher (see the entry on the influence of Arab and Islamic philosophy on the Latin West). In this tradition, the particularly rigorous and illuminating commentaries of Avicenna and Aveiroys explain and develop Aristotle's ideas in astonishing ways. These commentaries, in turn, proved to be extremely influential in the earliest 12th-century access to the Aristolic German library to the Latin West.
In the early days of Aristotle's reintroduction to the West, one of his greatest exponents was Albertus Magnus, especially his student Thomas Aquinas, who attempted to reconcile Aristotle's philosophy with Christian thought. Some Aristotles disdain Aquinas, believing that Aquinas was insulting Aristotle, while some Christians did not think that Aquinas was pandering to pagan philosophy. Many others in both camps took a more positive view, seeing Thomism as the perfect union of two towering traditions; it can be said that the brilliant commentaries written by Aquinas at the end of his life were more straightforward exegetical and exposition than comprehensive, and in these respects they were not comparable in any philosophical period. Partly due to Aquinas's preoccupations, but also for many other reasons, Aristotle's philosophy set the framework for Christian philosophy of the 12th to 16th centuries, and of course that rich period encompassed a wide range of philosophical activities, more or less sympathetic to Aristotle's subject matter. To understand the extent of Aristotle's influence, however, one need only recall the two concepts that make up the so-called. The binarium famosissimum of that period ("the most famous pair"), i.e., the doctrine of universal hylomorphism and plural forms, finds their first formulation in Aristotle's texts.
Interest in Aristotle continued unabated throughout the Renaissance in the form of Renaissance Aristotelianism. The main figures of this period overlap with the last blossom of medieval Aristotle scholasticism, which reaches a rich and influential ending in the image of Suarez, whose life in turn overlaps with Thato's. From the end of late scholasticism, the study of Aristotle went through various periods of relative neglect and great interest, but it has continued unabated to this day.
Today, philosophers of all stripes continue to seek Aristotle's guidance and inspiration in many different fields, from the idea of the mind to the theory of infinity, although perhaps Aristotle's influence is considered to have revived in the ashes of the most overt and blatant ethics of virtue beginning in the second half of the twentieth century. At this stage, it seems safe to predict that Aristotle's position is unlikely to decline at any time in the foreseeable future. If it is any indication of the direction of things in the future, a quick search of the current encyclopedia will reveal more references to "Aristotle" and "Aristotleism" than to any other philosopher or philosophical movement. Only Plato approached.
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