Ancient Philosophy

Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle

Aristotle's Politics

Aristotle's "Politics" is both fascinating and significant: it captivates through its exposition of the prejudices shared by educated Greeks of his time and holds importance as a source of many principles whose influence persisted until the end of the Middle Ages. While I do not believe it contains much that would be practically beneficial for contemporary statesmen, it illuminates the struggles of factions across various regions of the Hellenistic world. There is little information regarding the governance methods in non-Hellenistic states; indeed, references to Egypt, Babylon, Persia, and Carthage are present, yet they are somewhat superficial, save for the mention of Carthage. Notably, there is no mention of Alexander, nor any recognition of the profound transformation he wrought in the world. The discourse is confined to city-states, lacking foresight regarding their decline. Greece, divided into independent cities, served as a laboratory for political experimentation. However, from Aristotle's time until the rise of Italian cities in the Middle Ages, no similar experiments were applicable. Much of the experience Aristotle addressed bears greater relevance to the modern world than to any such existence that endured for a thousand five hundred years after his work was penned.

The text includes many intriguing asides; some worth noting before we embark on a discussion of political theory. For instance, we learn that Euripides, while residing at the court of the Macedonian king Archelaus, was accused by a certain Decamnicos of having bad breath. To quell Euripides' rage, the king permitted him to lash Decamnicos, which he did. After many years, Decamnicos joined a conspiracy aimed at assassinating the king; this conspiracy was successfully carried out, but by that time, Euripides had already passed away. We discover that children should be conceived in winter when the wind blows from the north; that one must scrupulously avoid indecencies, for "shameful words lead to shameful actions"; and that impropriety can only be tolerated in temples, where even blasphemy is permitted by law. People should not marry too young, lest their children be weak and female, their wives become promiscuous, and their husbands dwindle into stunted, lowly figures. The appropriate age for a man to marry is thirty-seven, while for a woman it is eighteen.

We learn how Thales, ridiculed for his poverty, prudently acquired all the presses for extracting olive oil on credit, thereby gaining the ability to impose monopolistic prices for their use. He did this to demonstrate that philosophers can indeed acquire wealth, and if they remain poor, it is because they have matters of greater importance for contemplation than money. All this, however, is mentioned in passing; it is time to turn to more serious matters.

The book commences with a declaration of the paramount significance of the state; it is a community of the highest order, directed towards the greatest good. Initially, the family prevailed, founded upon two fundamental relationships—man and woman, master and slave—both of which are natural. Several united families constitute a village; several villages form a state, provided the number of villages is sufficient to meet their needs. Although the state arose later than the family, it is, by its very nature, superior to the family and even to the individual, for "what each thing becomes in its full development, we call its nature," and human society in its complete development is the state, with the whole surpassing the part. The concept outlined here is that of an organism: a hand, when the body is destroyed, is no longer a hand, he asserts. It implies that a hand must be defined by its function—grasping—which it can only perform when connected to a living body. Similarly, an individual cannot fulfill their function unless they are part of the state. Aristotle posits that the founder of a state is the greatest of benefactors, for without law, man is the worst of animals, and law owes its existence to the state. The state is not merely a society for exchange or crime prevention:

“The state is established… for the purpose of living happily;… the state itself represents a communion of families and villages aimed at achieving a perfect self-sufficient existence, which we assert consists in a happy and beautiful life. Thus, one must think that civic communion exists for the sake of beautiful activity, not merely for the sake of cohabitation.”

Since the state is formed from households, each consisting of a single family, the discussion of politics must commence with the family. The central issue in this discussion pertains to slavery, for in the ancient world, slaves were always regarded as part of the family. Slavery is both expedient and just, but a slave, by nature, must be inferior to the master. By birth, some are destined to be subjugated, while others are to govern; a person who, by birth, belongs to another rather than to themselves is, by nature, a slave. Slaves ought not to be Greeks but should belong to an inferior race, less endowed with spirit. It is better for domesticated animals to be governed by humans; this applies equally to those who are naturally inferior: it is better for them when the superior govern. One may question whether the practice of enslaving prisoners of war is justified; the force that leads to victory in war seems to imply a higher virtue, though this is not always the case. However, war is just when waged against those who, although destined by nature to be governed, refuse to submit; in this instance, it is implied that subjugating the vanquished is just. It appears sufficient to justify any conqueror who ever lived, for no nation would willingly acknowledge that it is by nature meant to be governed, and the only evidence of nature's intentions can be the outcome of war. Thus, in every war, the victors are deemed just, while the vanquished are deemed unjust. Quite satisfactory!

Next follows a discourse on trade, which profoundly influenced scholastic casuistry. A thing can be used in two ways (correctly and incorrectly); for example, a shoe can be worn, that is, used correctly, or it can be exchanged, which would constitute its incorrect use. Hence, there is something degrading about being a cobbler, as a cobbler must exchange shoes to make a living. Retail trade, it turns out, is not a natural part of the art of acquiring wealth. The natural means of acquiring wealth is through skillful management of one’s household and lands. Wealth amassed in this manner has limits, but there are no boundaries to wealth obtained through trade. Trade relates to money, yet wealth is not mere accumulation of coins. Wealth gained through trade is rightly despised, for it is unnatural: "Therefore, usury arouses hatred, as it turns money itself into an object of property, which thus loses the purpose for which it was created: it arose for the sake of exchange, yet charging interest leads to the increase of money. This mode of profit is, above all, contrary to nature."

The implications of this authoritative declaration can be found in Tauni’s book Religion and the Rise of Capitalism. However, while the facts he presents may be reliable, his commentary is biased in favor of a pre-capitalist order.

“Usury” denoted any loan made at interest, not merely what we now regard as exploitative debt. From ancient Greece to the present day, humanity—at least its economically developed segment—has been divided into debtors and creditors; debtors disapproved of interest, while creditors endorsed it. Nearly always, agriculturalists found themselves in debt, while those engaged in trade acted as creditors. The philosophers’ perspectives, with few exceptions, aligned with the monetary relations of their class. Greek philosophers either belonged to the landowning class or served it, which led to their disapproval of interest. Medieval philosophers, being clergy, were tied to the Church’s wealth, predominantly land; thus, they felt no need to revisit Aristotle’s views. Their objections to usury were further fueled by anti-Semitism, as the most liquid capital was often in Jewish hands. Clergy and barons engaged in fierce struggles against one another, yet they could unite against the malevolent Jew, who lent money in times of poor harvest, believing he deserved some reward for his frugality.

With the Reformation, the situation shifted. Many of the most fervent Protestants were merchants for whom lending at interest became crucial. First Calvin and then other Protestant theologians sanctioned interest. Ultimately, the Catholic Church was compelled to follow suit, as old prohibitions no longer corresponded with the new world. Philosophers whose incomes derived from university investments regarded interest favorably once they ceased to be clergymen and thus were no longer tied to land ownership. At every historical juncture, ample theoretical arguments supported this economically advantageous viewpoint.

Aristotle critiques Plato’s Utopia from multiple angles. His comments on how Utopia attributes too much unity to the state, transforming it into an individual, are particularly intriguing. He then presents arguments against the proposed abolition of the family—arguments that come readily to any reader’s mind. Plato believes that by simply labeling anyone of appropriate age as a “son,” one can cultivate the same feelings for all young men that fathers currently harbor for their true sons; the same applies to the designation of “father.” Aristotle, conversely, contends that what is common to many receives the least care, and if “sons” are shared among many “fathers,” they will ultimately be neglected; it is better to be a true cousin than a “son” in the Platonic sense; Plato’s plan would render love too insipid. Following this is a curious argument: since abstinence from adultery is a virtue, it would be regrettable to construct a social system that abolishes this virtue and its corresponding vice. A further question arises: if women become communal, who will manage the household? Once, I wrote an essay titled “Architecture and Social System,” where I pointed out that all who equate communism with the abolition of the family also advocate for communal housing for large numbers of people with shared kitchens, dining halls, and nurseries. This system can be characterized as monasteries without a vow of celibacy. All of this is essential to implementing Plato’s plans, yet undoubtedly as impossible as much else he recommends.

Platonic communism provokes irritation in Aristotle. He asserts that it would incite an outburst of anger against the idle and engender conflicts typical among individuals traveling together. It is better if each attends to their own affairs. Ownership should be private, but a sense of charity should be cultivated among people so that the use of this property remains predominantly communal. Charity and generosity are virtues, and without private property, they cannot exist. Finally, it is posited that if Plato’s plans were truly good, someone would have conceived them earlier. I disagree with Plato; however, if anything could compel me to concur with him, it would be Aristotle’s arguments against him.

As we have already seen in relation to the question of slavery, Aristotle does not believe in equality; although he permits the subjugation of slaves and women, the question remains whether all citizens should be politically equal. Some, he states, deem this desirable on the grounds that all revolutions aim to rectify property relations. He dismisses this argument, claiming that the gravest crimes stem more from excess than from deficiency; no one becomes a tyrant to escape the cold.

A government is good when its aim is the welfare of the entire society, and it is poor when it solely concerns itself. There are three types of good governments: monarchy, aristocracy, and constitutional government (or polity); there are three bad types: tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy. Additionally, numerous mixed intermediate forms exist. It is noteworthy that good and bad governments are determined by the ethical qualities of those in power, rather than by the constitution's form. This, however, holds true only in part. Aristocracy denotes the rule of the virtuous, while oligarchy signifies the rule of the wealthy. Aristotle does not view wealth and virtue as strictly synonymous concepts. In accordance with the doctrine of the golden mean, he asserts that moderate wealth is most likely to associate with virtue:

“…virtues are not acquired and safeguarded through external goods, but, conversely, external goods are acquired and safeguarded through virtues; …happiness in life—whether expressed through pleasures, or virtue, or both—accompanies those who are abundantly adorned with good morals and reason, and who exhibit moderation in acquiring external goods, to a far greater extent than those who have acquired more external goods than necessary but are poor in internal goods.” Thus, there exists a difference between the rule of the best (aristocracy) and the wealthiest (oligarchy), as the best seem to possess only moderate means. There is also a distinction between democracy and polity (besides the ethical difference in governance), for what Aristotle calls “polity” retains elements of oligarchy. However, the difference between monarchy and tyranny is solely ethical.

He perceives a distinction between oligarchy and democracy based on the economic status of the ruling party: oligarchy exists where the rich govern without regard for the poor; democracy arises when the needy hold power and disregard the interests of the wealthy.

Monarchy is preferable to aristocracy, aristocracy to polity. Yet the worst is the corruption of the best; thus, tyranny is worse than oligarchy, and oligarchy worse than democracy. In this manner, Aristotle arrives at a limited defense of democracy: since the majority of existing governments are poor, among these governments, democracy can be deemed the best.

The Greek concept of democracy was, in many respects, more extreme than ours; for instance, Aristotle asserts that electing officials is oligarchic, while appointing them by lot is democratic. In extremist democracies, the assembly of citizens was above the law and decided every issue independent of any considerations. Athenian courts were composed of numerous citizens chosen by lot, lacking any legal assistance; they, of course, easily succumbed to the rhetoric of orators or party passions. When democracy is criticized, it is crucial to understand that this is precisely what is being referenced.

In this passage, Aristotle presents an extensive discourse on the causes of revolution. In Greece, revolutions were as frequent as they have been recently in Latin America, providing Aristotle with ample experience from which to draw conclusions. The primary cause of revolutions stemmed from conflicts between oligarchs and democrats. Democracy, Aristotle argues, arises from the belief that people, being equally free, should be equal in all respects; oligarchy, on the other hand, emerges from those who, in some respect superior, claim too much. Both forms of governance possess a certain justification, albeit of a lesser kind. “For this reason, both sets of citizens, based on their premises, when denied their share in government, rise in rebellion.” Democratic governments are less susceptible to revolutions than oligarchies, as oligarchs can become embroiled in conflict with one another. Evidently, oligarchs were quite vigorous individuals. In certain cities, it appears, they swore an oath: “I shall remain an unchanging enemy of the people and cause them as much harm as I can.” Modern reactionaries, it seems, are not so candid.

Three factors are necessary to prevent revolution: governmental propaganda in the process of education; respect for the law, even in minor matters; and justice in law and governance, that is, “equality in worth, wherein each enjoys what is rightfully his.” Aristotle seems to remain oblivious to the challenges of establishing “equality in worth.” If true justice is to be realized, then “worth” must signify virtue. However, virtue is difficult to measure, and it becomes a subject of partisan disputes. Hence, in political practice, there is a tendency to measure virtue by income; the distinction between aristocracy and oligarchy that Aristotle attempts to draw is only feasible where a firmly established hereditary nobility exists. Should there be a substantial class of wealthy individuals not belonging to the nobility, they must be granted access to power out of fear of a coup. Hereditary aristocracy cannot retain power for long, except in places where land is nearly the sole source of wealth. Ultimately, all social inequality is income inequality. The argument in favor of democracy is partly this: the attempt to achieve “justice in worth,” founded on any merit other than wealth, is doomed to failure. Defenders of oligarchy seek to demonstrate that income is proportional to virtue; a prophet asserts that he has never seen a righteous man begging; Aristotle believes that good people earn roughly the same income as he does—not too much and not too little. Yet such a belief is absurd. Any form of “justice,” compared to absolute equality, will effectively reward some quality utterly distinct from virtue and must therefore be condemned.

The section devoted to tyranny is particularly intriguing. A tyrant seeks wealth, whereas a king seeks honor. The tyrant’s guard is corrupt, while the king’s guard consists of his citizens. Tyrants are primarily demagogues who seize power by promising to protect the people from the nobility. In an ironic Machiavellian tone, Aristotle elucidates what a tyrant must do to maintain power. He must prevent the rise of anyone possessing exceptional merits, betraying him to execution if necessary. He must ban communal meals, any gatherings, and any education capable of inciting opposition. There should be no literary assemblies or debates. He must hinder people from forming close bonds and take their social life under his surveillance. He should hire spies, much like the female informants in Syracuse. He must sow discord and impoverish his subjects. He should keep them occupied: continually engaging them in grandiose projects, as the kings of Egypt did by compelling them to build pyramids. He must grant rights to slaves and women to turn them into informants. He must wage wars to ensure that his subjects are preoccupied and always in need of a leader.

Sadly, this discussion resonates closely with the present. In conclusion, Aristotle states that there is nothing too base for a tyrant. However, he notes that there exists another method of preserving tyranny, namely moderation and feigned piety. It cannot be decisively determined which method will prove more successful.

What follows is an extensive argument aiming to demonstrate that foreign conquest does not necessarily spell the end of a state. This discourse reveals that many adhered to an imperialistic viewpoint. He does make one exception—capturing “natural slaves” is deemed right and just. According to Aristotle, this would justify wars against barbarians but not against Greeks, for no Greek is a “natural slave.” In general, war serves merely as a means, not an end; a city, isolated from the world and thus impossible to conquer, may thrive; states living in isolation need not remain inactive. God and the Universe are active, although foreign conquests are impossible for them. The prosperity that a state should aspire to is therefore achieved not through wars but through peaceful endeavors, although war may sometimes be a necessary means to this end.

This raises the question: how large should a state be? We learn that large cities are never well governed, as vast masses cannot behave in a disciplined manner. A state should be sufficiently large to somewhat satisfy its own needs but not so large as to be beyond constitutional governance. It must be small enough for citizens to know each other by reputation; otherwise, elections and trials will not be conducted properly. Its territory should be small enough to be surveyed from the summit of a hill. We learn that a state should simultaneously meet its own needs while engaging in both export and import—external and internal trade. This seems inconsistent.

People who live on their wages should not possess civil rights. “Artisans have no rights of citizenship, nor does any other class of the populace whose activities do not serve virtue.” Citizens cannot be tillers of the soil, for they require free time. Citizens must own property, while tillers of the soil are fated to be slaves of another race. “If property rights are to belong to citizens, it is clear that tillers must be slaves… of non-Hellenic origin.” The northern races, we are informed, are energetic and brave; the southern ones are more intelligent and resourceful; therefore, slaves must belong to southern races, as significant inconveniences would arise if they were brave. Only the Greeks are both brave and intelligent; they are better governed than the barbarians. If they were to unite, they could rule the entire world. One might expect a reference to Alexander at this point, but it is absent.

Regarding the size of the state, Aristotle commits the same error as many modern liberals, albeit from a different perspective. A state must be capable of defending itself in war, and even if some culture free from prejudice can survive, it must protect itself without significant strain. The size of the state in this regard depends on the techniques of warfare and the development of industry. In Aristotle's days, the city-state was already outdated, as it could not defend itself against Macedonia's invasion. In our time, Greece as a whole, including Macedonia, has become outdated in this respect (as has recently been demonstrated). Advocating for the complete independence of Greece or any other small country is now as futile as defending the absolute independence of a city whose entire territory can be surveyed from a hilltop. True independence cannot exist for a state or alliance unless it is sufficiently powerful to repel all attempts at foreign conquest through its own efforts. Nothing less than America united with the British Empire will satisfy such a requirement; however, it is possible that even this union may prove inadequate.

In its extant form, the book appears unfinished; it concludes with a discourse on education. Education, of course, is intended solely for those children destined to become citizens; slaves may be taught useful skills, such as cooking, but these arts do not constitute true education. A citizen must be molded in accordance with the form of governance under which they live, and thus, education should differ depending on whether the city in question is oligarchic or democratic. Here, however, Aristotle implies that all citizens partake in the governance of the state. Children should be taught what is beneficial to them, yet without degradation; for instance, they ought not to learn any crafts that mar the body or provide avenues for earning money. They should engage in athletics in moderation, so as not to acquire professional skill; boys training for the Olympic Games often jeopardize their health, evidenced by the fact that those victorious in youth seldom triumph again in adulthood.

Children ought to learn drawing to appreciate the beauty of the human form; they should also be taught to value those drawings and sculptures that express moral ideas. They may study singing and playing musical instruments—not to become skilled performers, but sufficiently to enjoy music critically, for no free person will play or sing unless intoxicated. Of course, they must learn to read and write, despite the utility of these skills. Yet the ultimate goal of education is “virtue,” not mere usefulness. The meaning Aristotle attaches to “virtue” is elucidated in his "Ethics," to which this work frequently refers.

The fundamental tenets of Aristotle, as articulated in his "Politics," diverge considerably from those of any contemporary writer. In his view, the purpose of the state is to cultivate cultured individuals, where the mind of the aristocrat harmonizes with a love for the sciences and the arts. This ideal reached its zenith in Athens during the era of Pericles—not among the broader masses, but among the affluent. It began to disintegrate in the final years of Pericles’ life. The uncultured populace rose against Pericles’ friends, who were compelled to defend the privileges of the wealthy through treachery, murder, illegal despotism, and other equally ignoble means. After Socrates’ death, the fanaticism of Athenian democracy waned, and although Athens remained a center of ancient culture, political power shifted to another city-state. Throughout the late antiquity, power and culture were typically divided: power lay in the hands of brutish soldiers, while culture belonged to the Greeks who wielded no power and often to slaves. This dichotomy is only partially accurate regarding Rome at the height of its glory but holds true for the period before Cicero and after Marcus Aurelius. Following the barbarian invasions, the “noble” ones were the northern barbarians—individuals whose culture was that of the cunning southern churchmen. This state of affairs persisted to some extent until the Renaissance, when laypeople began to engage with culture. Since the Renaissance, the Greek conception of governments composed of cultured nobles gradually gained prominence, reaching its zenith in the eighteenth century.

Various circumstances ultimately brought this state of affairs to an end, primarily democracy as embodied in the French Revolution, along with its repercussions. Cultured individuals, akin to Pericles, had to defend their privileges from the populace, and in this struggle, they themselves ceased to be either cultured or noble. A second factor was industrialism, with its scientific techniques, which starkly contrasted with the traditional culture. A third cause was the advent of universal education, which enabled reading and writing but did not impart culture, thus allowing a new breed of demagogue to propagate ideas in novel ways, as evidenced by the rise of dictatorships.

Thus, whether for better or worse, the era of the dominance of cultured individuals has passed.