The Oxford Companion to Philosophy Part 8 pot

where the conclusion of one subargument functions also
as a premiss in another. But it is also a little wide, in rela-
tion to a sense of ‘argument’ commonly used in philoso-
phy, where the term refers to a complex of propositions
(usually a quite small and specific set) designated as prem-
isses and a conclusion.
Also, the definition above can be implemented some-
what differently in different conversational contexts, for
several types of dispute can be involved. One common
sense of ‘argument’ is that of a quarrelsome exchange of
verbal attacks and counter-attacks. This is one conversa-
tional context of argument, but another context is the
more orderly type of exchange where each party has the
goal of justifying his or her own thesis, and questioning or
refuting the other party’s thesis, by reasoned means, using
accepted standards of evidence. Argument of this kind,
used to resolve an initial conflict of opinions, takes place in
a critical discussion (van Eemeren and Grootendorst,
Argumentation, Communication and Fallacies). In contrast,
argument to bargain over goods or services takes place in
a negotiation. But basically, in an argument, some key
proposition is held to be in doubt, in contrast to an explan-
ation, for example, where the proposition to be explained
is generally taken as granted, or at least not subject to
doubt or questioning, as far as the purpose of the explan-
ation is concerned.
In a deductively valid argument, the link between the
premisses and the conclusion is strict in the sense that the
conclusion must be true in every case in which the prem-
isses are true, barring any exception. In such an argument,
the conclusion follows from the premisses by logical

necessity. A traditional example is: ‘All men are mortal;
Socrates is a man; therefore Socrates is mortal’. The prem-
isses don’t have to be true, but if they are, the conclusion
has to be true.
In an inductively strong argument, the link between the
premisses and the conclusion is based on probability, so
that if the premisses are true, then it can be said that the
conclusion is true with a degree of probability (usually
measured as a fraction between 0 and 1, the latter being
the value assigned to a deductively valid argument, the
limiting case).
In a presumptively *plausible argument, the link between
the premisses and the conclusion is based on burden of
proof, meaning that it is not known whether the conclu-
sion is true or not, but if the premisses are true, that is
enough of a provisional, practical basis for acting as
though the conclusion were true, in the absence of evi-
dence showing it to be false. Presumptively plausible
arguments are species of arguments from ignorance that
should be treated with caution, because of their provi-
sional nature, making them subject to default, and even in
some cases fallacious (Walton, Plausible Argument in Every-
day Conversation).
Presumptively plausible arguments are very common
in everyday conversation, and their abuse or erroneous
use is associated with many of the traditional informal fal-
lacies, familiar in logic textbooks. A few of the more com-
mon types of presumptively plausible arguments are
noted below, along with some traditional types of argu-
ment and fallacy.

Argument from sign derives a conclusion that some fea-
ture of a situation is present, based on some other
observed feature that generally indicates its presence. For
example, ‘Here are (what appear to be) some bear tracks
in the snow; therefore a bear passed this way’.
Argument from expert opinion creates a presumption that
a proposition is true, based on an appeal to the opinion of
a suitably qualified expert who has claimed that it is true.
More broadly, arguments are often based on appeals to
authority of one kind or another, e.g. judicial authority,
other than that of expertise. Locke (in his Essay Concerning
Human Understanding) identified a type of argument he
called argumentum ad verecundiam (argument from respect
or modesty), which is ‘to allege the opinions of men
whose parts, learning, eminency, power, or some other
cause has gained a name and settled their reputation in the
common esteem with some kind of authority’, and use
this allegation to support one’s own opinion. Locke does
not say this is a fallacy, but he indicates how it could be
used as a fallacy by someone who portrays anyone who
disagrees with the appeal as insolent or immodest, having
insufficient respect for authority.
Argument from ethos puts forward a proposition as being
more plausible on the ground that it was asserted by a per-
son with good character. The negative version of this is
the abusive or personal ad hominem argument, which
claims that an argument is not plausible on the ground
that the arguer who advocated it has a bad character (typ-
ically bad character for veracity is emphasized). In the
Essay Locke defined the *argumentum ad hominem as

the tactic of pressing someone ‘with consequences drawn
from his own principles or concessions’. This description
is closer to the variant usually called the circumstantial ad
hominem argument, where a person’s argument is ques-
tioned or refuted on the grounds that his personal circum-
stances are inconsistent with what he advocates in his
argument. For example, if a politician argues for wage cuts
in the public sector, but is unwilling to cut his own high
salary, a critic may attack his argument by citing the osten-
sible inconsistency.
Argumentum ad ignorantiam (argument to ignorance) is
the argument that because a particular proposition has
not been proved true (false), we may conclude that it is
false (true). This is sometimes a legitimate kind of argu-
mentation based on burden of proof. For example, in a
criminal trial, if it is not proved that the defendant is guilty,
it is concluded that she is not guilty. However, if pressed
ahead too aggressively, it can be used as a sophistical tac-
tic. For example, in the McCarthy hearings in the 1950s,
absence of any disproof of communist connections was
taken as evidence to show that some people were guilty of
being communist sympathizers.
Argumentum ad populum is the use of appeal to popular
opinion to support a conclusion. It may take the form of
appeal to group loyalties, popular trends of one kind or
50 arguments, types of
another, or to customary ways of doing things. This type
of argumentation is reasonable in many cases, but it can be
used as a sophistical tactic to bring pressure against an
opponent in argument, or to appeal to group interests or

loyalties in an emotional way, in lieu of presenting
stronger forms of evidence that should be provided.
Argumentum ad misericordiam is the use of appeal to pity
to support one’s conclusion. Such appeals are sometimes
appropriate, but too often they are used as sophistical tac-
tics to evade a burden of proof by diverting the line of
argument away from the real issue. d.n.w.
*deduction; induction; methods, Mill’s; slingshot, argu-
ments; testimony.
Charles L. Hamblin, Fallacies (London, 1970).
John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690), ed.
P. H. Nidditch (Oxford, 1975).
Frans H. van Eemeren and Rob Grootendorst, Argumentation,
Communication and Fallacies (Hillsdale, NJ, 1992).
Douglas N. Walton, Plausible Argument in Everyday Conversation
(Albany, NY, 1992).
Aristippus (5th century bc). An associate of Socrates, cele-
brated as a defender and exemplar of a life of sensual
pleasure. His advocacy of pleasure was taken up by the
Cyrenaic school (named after Aristippus’ native city of
Cyrene in North Africa), reputedly founded by his grand-
son, also called Aristippus. The Cyrenaics maintained that
the supreme good is the pleasure of the moment, which
they identified with a physical process, a ‘smooth motion
of the flesh’. They supported their hedonism by the argu-
ment that all creatures pursue pleasure and avoid pain.
This concentration on immediate pleasure reflected a
general scepticism, according to which only immediate
sensations could be known. Concern with past or future
caused uncertainty and anxiety, and should therefore be

avoided. (*Ataraxia.) c.c.w.t.
E. Mannebach, Aristippi et Cyrenaicorum Fragmenta (Leiden, 1961).
aristocracy, natural. Rule by the members of a long-
established ruling class distinguished by ability, property,
and a privileged education which instils a high sense of
honour, responsibility, and public duty.
Aristocracy is one of the three basic types of govern-
ment noted by the Greeks, the others being monarchy
(rule by one) and democracy (rule by the people). Aristoc-
racies can be based on heredity, wealth (oligarchy), or
merit (meritocracy). Some thinkers, especially Burke,
believe in the natural aristocracy of those whose place in
the social fabric has been established by stable hierarchical
values hallowed by time. Such a view finds a friendly envir-
onment in some forms of *conservatism and can be seen
as the expression of a belief in the value of an *organic soci-
ety. It is easy for critics on the left to make fun of the idea
because it can be depicted as the expression of entrenched
privilege and arbitrary power with no rational basis.
Nevertheless, the belief in a natural aristocracy can be
combined with constitutional safeguards (as in Burke) and
its systematic destruction over the last fifty years by the
egalitarianism of the left and the managerialism of the
right has not ushered in a glorious new era of public
service. r.s.d.
E. Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France (1790), ed. Conor
Cruise O’Brien (Harmondsworth, 1968).
Aristotelianism. Aristotle’s philosophical influence spans
the period from his death in 322 bc to today. It has led to a
wide range of different philosophical viewpoints, as his

work has been interpreted and reinterpreted to fit differ-
ent programmes and serve differing goals. His thought
has influenced the terminology of *philosophy itself: ‘syl-
logism’, ‘premiss’, ‘conclusion’, ‘substance’, ‘essence’,
‘accident’, ‘metaphysics’, ‘species’, ‘genera’, ‘potentiality’,
‘categories’, ‘akrasia’, ‘dialectic’, and ‘analytic’ are all
terms taken over from Aristotle. Many contemporary
philosophers working on ethics, philosophy of mind and
action, political philosophy, and metaphysics claim that
their views are influenced by, or even derived from, Aris-
totle’s own writings. Still others define their own position
by their rejection of Aristotle’s views on essentialism,
metaphysics, and natural science. And this situation is not
merely an artefact of current philosophical interests; it is
one which has obtained through nearly the whole period
of Western philosophy since Aristotle’s death.
The history of Aristotelianism has many phases. Imme-
diately after his death, his school (the Lyceum) remained a
centre for scientific and philosophical study. Theophras-
tus succeeded him as its head, expanded on his biological
researches by a study of botany, and also wrote a history
of physical theories and cosmology, while Eudemus com-
posed the first history of mathematics and Aristoxenus
wrote on music. Theophrastus and the next head of the
Lyceum, Strato, were independent thinkers, prepared to
criticize Aristotle’s views, and to develop their own the-
ories on basic issues. There were sometimes as many as
2,000 students during this period, and internal debate
flourished. Zeno of Citium, the founder of the Stoa, said
that Theophrastus’ chorus was larger than his own, but

that the voices in his own chorus were in greater har-
mony. However, in the third century bc, other philosoph-
ical schools emerged—the *Epicureans, *Stoics, and
*Sceptics—and took centre-stage, rejecting some of Aris-
totle’s views and modifying others, and the influence of
the Lyceum itself diminished.
In the first century bc, Aristotle’s manuscripts were
edited by Andronicus and his writings were widely stud-
ied. Between the second and sixth centuries ad a series of
scholarly commentators studied Aristotle’s work with
care and ingenuity, paying particular attention to his writ-
ings on logical, physical, and metaphysical topics. Alexan-
der of Aphrodisias (second century ad), Porphyry (third
century ad), and Philoponus and Simplicius (sixth century
ad) were amongst the most distinguished contributors to
this tradition. Some aimed not only to interpret Aristotle’s
views, but also to criticize them. Philoponus, in particular,
developed a series of fundamental objections to Aristotle’s
dynamics and attempted to develop his own account of
Aristotelianism 51
change and movement. This first renaissance of Aris-
totelianism declined after Justinian closed the schools of
philosophy at Athens in ad 529, although Aristotle was
actively studied in Constantinople for a longer period.
The second great renaissance of Aristotelian thought in
western Europe began in the twelfth century ad, and
was prompted initially by Syrian and Arabic scholar-
philosophers who had discussed and developed Aristotle’s
scientific and metaphysical works. Of these, the best
known are Avicenna (Ibn Sı¯na¯) and Averroës (Ibn Rushd),

‘the Commentator’, who produced commentaries on
nearly all of the works of Aristotle which we now possess.
Averroës himself believed that Aristotle both initiated and
perfected the study of logic, natural science, and meta-
physics. Latin translations of Arabic texts and commen-
taries on Aristotle began to reach Europe (via Spain) in this
period, and provoked widespread interest. Initially, Aris-
totle was seen as a threat to Christian orthodoxy, and in
1210 the Council of Paris banned the study of his natural
philosophy and threatened to excommunicate anyone
who studied it. However, the study of his writings flour-
ished under mild persecution, and was further stimulated
by the Crusaders’ discovery in Constantinople of many of
Aristotle’s manuscripts (as handed down from the Greek
commentators), which subsequently were skilfully trans-
lated into Latin and made more generally available.
Within a few generations, Aristotle’s writings became one
of the mainstays of university life in Europe. This was due
mainly to the enthusiasm and ability of two Dominicans,
Albert the Great (c.1200–80) and Thomas Aquinas
(1224/5–74), who sought to present the basic principles of
Aristotle’s philosophy in a systematic fashion and to inte-
grate it (as far as possible) with Christian and contempor-
ary scientific thought. Albertus aimed to give an account
of the whole of nature in Aristotelian terms, to capture
what Aristotle would have said had he been alive and well-
informed in the thirteenth century ad. Aquinas’s goal was
to distinguish what was fundamentally sound in Aris-
totle’s philosophical writings from certain of the conclu-
sions which he actually drew. For example, while Aquinas

(as a Christian) wished to reject Aristotle’s view that the
world had no beginning, he argued that it was by revela-
tion alone that one could know the relevant facts. Thus,
he upheld Aristotle’s criticism of his predecessors’ theor-
ies that the world had a beginning on the grounds that no
philosophical argument could establish what had in fact
occurred. Aquinas aimed to reconcile religion and phil-
osophy, and to produce a wide-ranging synthesis of Aris-
totelian philosophy, Christianity, and the current
scientific thinking of his day.
The success of Aquinas’s synthesis ensured that for a
time Aristotle held the pre-eminent position in Western
philosophy. He was regarded for several centuries as the
supreme philosopher, ‘the master of those who know’, as
Dante called him. However, the effect of this synthesis
was in many ways pernicious. After the thirteenth century
Aristotle came to represent the status quo in philosophy
and science, and to be identified with dogmatic resistance
to further speculation and scientific discovery. Naturally,
critics arose: in Oxford, William of Ockham and, in Paris,
Jean Buridan and Albert of Saxony amongst others. By the
end of the fourteenth century, they had (like Philoponus
before them) criticized Aristotle’s dynamics and the astro-
nomical theories constructed on this basis. The way was
open for Copernicus and Galileo to undermine these parts
of Aristotle’s physical theories. Perhaps the nadir of this
form of Aristotelianism was reached when Cremonini, a
leading Aristotelian in Padua, refused to look through
Galileo’s telescope because he suspected that what he saw
would conflict with his own theories. In the seventeenth

century, Francis Bacon, Galileo, and Boyle developed
more general attacks against Aristotelianism, accusing it
of a resistance to scientific method and empirical observa-
tion. Hobbes complained of Aristotle’s continuing influ-
ence with considerable vehemence. ‘I believe that scarce
anything can be more absurdly said in natural philosophy,
than that which is now called Aristotle’s Metaphysics . . .
nor more ignorantly, than a great part of his Ethics’
(Leviathan, iv. xlvi).
It is something of a paradox that Aristotle was criticized
by John Locke and Francis Bacon for lack of interest in sci-
entific method and empirical observation. He had, after
all, pioneered the empirical science of biology, and had
written at length about the importance of ensuring that
one’s theories are true to appearances and consistent with
the reputable opinions of the relevant experts. His reputa-
tion in natural science suffered because of the narrow-
minded attempts of the Aristotelians ofthe seventeenth
century to defend every aspect of his physical theory.
Their ultra-conservative approach prompted a radical
rejection of central contentions of Aristotle’s metaphysics
and epistemology. A century later, Bishop Berkeley noted
judiciously: ‘In these free-thinking times, many an empty
head is shook at Aristotle and Plato, as well as at Holy
Scriptures. And the writings of those celebrated ancients
are by most men treated on a foot with the dry and bar-
barous lucubrations of the Schoolmen.’ In this way, the
successful criticism of the most speculative features of
Aristotle’s dynamics prompted a major sea-change in the
development of Western philosophy. The starting-point

for philosophical thinking after Descartes came to be sub-
jective experience and the challenge of scepticism, rather
than man understood as a distinctive species of animal in a
world of substances, essences, and natural kinds with their
own causal powers. Indeed, from a post-Cartesian view-
point many of Aristotle’s central concepts appeared
ungrounded or epistemologically insecure.
Aristotle’s influence was not undermined in all areas.
At a time when his metaphysical doctrines were under
sustained attack, the German educationalist Philip
Melanchthon (1497–1560) referred to the Ethics as a sem-
inal document, and made it essential reading in German
universities. Later in the German philosophical tradition,
Hegel and Marx were enthusiastic students of Aristotle.
Indeed, Marx was sometimes described as a left-wing
Aristotelian.
52 Aristotelianism
Aristotle’s Poetics exercised a powerful influence on the
seventeenth-century French dramatists Corneille and
Racine, who attempted to construct tragedies according
to his precepts. Corneille went so far as to say that Aris-
totle’s dramatic principles were valid ‘for all peoples and for
all times’. In nineteenth-century biology, Darwin was so
deeply impressed with Aristotle’s biological observations
and theories that he remarked that while ‘Linnaeus and
Cuvier have been my gods, they were mere schoolboys to
old Aristotle’. However, these remarks were exceptions to
an intellectual climate in which Aristotle’s central claims
about scientific explanation, metaphysics, and logic were
rejected either in whole or in part. Indeed, Darwin’s own

work appeared to undermine the need for Aristotle’s style
of teleological explanation of biological phenomena.
The last two centuries have seen several major devel-
opments in Aristotelian studies. In the nineteenth cen-
tury, scholars sought to establish a secure text of his
surviving books, culminating in the Berlin edition, pub-
lished from 1831 onwards. Later writers tended to see
Aristotle not as propounding one finished philosophical
system, but as developing and modifying his views
throughout the treatises. Others focused with increasing
rigour on Aristotle’s discussion of particular issues in his
Ethics or Metaphysics, or more recently his biological
works, without assuming that they all fit perfectly into
one package of ideas. There has been, in these respects, an
attempt to formulate clear and precise accounts of Aris-
totle’s views, rather than to rest content with the ‘Aristotle
of legend’. It is perhaps no accident in this context that the
last few years have seen renewed scholarly interest in the
Greek commentators of the first Aristotelian renaissance.
What is the current position of ‘Aristotelianism’ in
modern philosophy? In several areas, his influence
remains strong and alive. I shall only comment on two.
1. Philosophy of Action, Moral Psychology. Many contempor-
ary philosophers have been influenced directly by Aris-
totle’s pioneering discussions of a variety of issues. The
philosophy of *action contains a variety of questions:
What counts as an action? How are actions individuated?
What is to count as an intentional action or a rational
action? Can there be intentional but irrational actions
(*akrasia)? Further issues concern the explanation of

intentional action: Is it to be explained causally, or in a dis-
tinctive manner (rational explanation)? Are the explanan-
tia desires or beliefs, and which are explanatorily more
basic? How are such psychological states related to under-
lying physical states? On each of these issues, Aristotle has
a distinctive and interesting answer. Philosophers as
diverse as Austin, Anscombe, von Wright, and Davidson,
who reopened these issues in the late twentieth century,
have found much to use in Aristotle’s discussions. But his
sustained and detailed analysis of these problems repays
study on its own account.
His interest in ontological issues led him to develop an
account of the nature and identity of processes, states,
activities, and actions which differs from the alternatives
canvassed in modern debates. In analysing intentional
action, he gave an important role to efficient causation,
but saw this as fully consistent with the recognition of the
role of agents’ knowledge and teleological (or rational)
explanation. Where modern discussions represent these
as rival explanatory schemes, Aristotle portrayed them as
complementary. His discussion of akrasia focuses on the
issue of how akratic action is possible and how it is to be
explained—whether in terms of a failure of intellect or
imagination, or in terms of desires not fully integrated into
one’s picture of well-being. This discussion stands com-
parison with even the best modern work. Aristotle is
aiming to account for a wide range of cases (some involving
failure of intellect, others separate failures of motivation)
in a way which does justice to the variety of the phenom-
ena of ordinary experience. But at the same time he seeks

to develop a theory of practical reasoning and virtue
which shows how the akratic is irrational and to be
censured. The range and subtlety of Aristotle’s account is
evident throughout his discussion of virtue and self-
control, which has received considerable attention from
contemporary philosophers (such as John McDowell and
Philippa Foot). Similar claims can be made for his discus-
sions of the interconnection between psychological and
physical states. Aristotle is engaging with precisely the
issues which concern contemporary opponents of materi-
alist reduction who wish to avoid (Platonic or Cartesian)
*dualism. In these areas, Aristotle not only initiated philo-
sophical discussion but provided a framework within
which much contemporary work can be located and
better understood.
2. Metaphysical Issues. Contemporary discussion, mainly
prompted by two American philosophers, Saul Kripke and
Hilary Putnam, has done much to refocus attention on to
the Aristotelian issues of *substance, *essence, and *nat-
ural kinds. Kripke and Putnam share a range of assump-
tions with Aristotle. Terms such as ‘man’ or ‘gold’ have
their significance because they signify a distinct natural
kind whenever they are coherently uttered. They could not
retain their significance and apply to a different object or
kind. Aristotle accepted this as a consequence of his
account of signification in which the thoughts (with which
these terms are conventionally correlated) are ‘likened’ to
objects or kinds in the world. But what makes these kinds
and objects the same whenever they were specified? At
this point, Aristotle developed his metaphysical theory of

substance and essence to answer this question and thus to
underwrite and legitimize his account of names. Modern
authors have highlighted the linguistic and semantic data
from which Aristotle began his account; but few (if any)
have attempted to present such a systematic metaphysical
basis for their semantic claims. In this respect, his project is
at least as detailed and developed as those currently on
offer. At the very least it indicates what a systematic the-
ory of essence would be like.
Aristotle advanced his metaphysical claims apparently
untroubled by sceptical doubts of the kind which
Aristotelianism 53
undermined the first great period of Aristotelianism (in
third-century bc Athens) and the third (in western Europe
in the seventeenth century ad). Perhaps it was because he
was so little concerned by *scepticism that he was able to
develop his metaphysical theory in the way he did. How-
ever, from a modern perspective, this may not seem the
major mistake it was once taken to be. Aristotle was not
disturbed by global scepticism because (in his view) we
had to be in cognitive contact with the world for our basic
terms (such as ‘man’ or ‘gold’) to make sense. Our
thoughts had to be ‘likened’ to objects and kinds in the
world for them to be the thoughts they are, or for our
terms to make sense to us. From the Aristotelian stand-
point, global scepticism seems something of a trick: it
assumes that we understand terms with meanings which
they could only have if we were in reliable cognitive con-
tact with the world, and then proceeds to raise sceptical
doubts about the reliability of that cognitive contact. This

anti-sceptical feature of Aristotle’s thinking made it
unappealing in an earlier age when philosophers raised
sceptical doubts with scant concern for the question how
our thoughts can have the content they do. But it is
precisely this aspect of Aristotle’s philosophy, together
with its attendant interest in metaphysical issues, which
makes it strikingly relevant today. In these areas, Aris-
totle’s influence on contemporary philosophy appears
stronger and more benign today than it has been at
any time since the anti-Aristotelian revolution of the
seventeenth century. d.c.
D. Charles, Aristotle’s Philosophy of Action (London, 1984).
G. E. R. Lloyd, Aristotle: The Growth and Structure of his Thought
(Cambridge, 1968).
R. Sorabji, Time, Creation and the Continuum (London, 1983).
J. L. Stocks, Aristotelianism (Boston, 1925).
Aristotle (384–322 bc). Aristotle was born at Stagira in
Chalcidice in northern Greece. His father was a doctor
whose patients included Amyntas, King of Macedonia. At
the age of 17, Aristotle went to Athens to study under
Plato, and remained at the *Academy for nearly twenty
years until Plato’s death in 348/7. When Speusippus suc-
ceeded Plato as its head, Aristotle left Athens, lived for a
while in Assos and Mytilene, and then was invited to
return to Macedonia by Philip to tutor Alexander. Aris-
totle returned to Athens in 335 at the age of 49, and
founded his own philosophical school. He worked there
for twelve years until Alexander’s death in 323, when the
Athenians in strongly anti-Macedonian mood brought a
formal charge of impiety against him. Aristotle escaped

with his life to Chalcis, but died there in the following
year at the age of 62. He married twice, and had a son,
Nicomachus, by his second wife.
Aristotle’s philosophical interests covered an extremely
wide area. He composed major studies of logic, ethics, and
metaphysics, but also wrote on epistemology, physics,
biology, meteorology, dynamics, mathematics, psych-
ology, rhetoric, dialectic, aesthetics, and politics. Many of
his treatises constitute an attempt to see the topics
studied through the perspective of one set of fundamental
concepts and ideas. All reflect similar virtues: a careful
weighing of arguments and considerations, acute insight,
a sense of what is philosophically plausible, and a desire
to separate and classify distinct issues and phenomena.
They also exhibit considerable reflection on the nature
of philosophical activity and the goals of philosophy
itself.
Aristotle’s philosophical development is difficult to
determine chronologically. He probably worked on a
range of concerns simultaneously, and did not always see
clearly how far his thinking on logic or philosophy of sci-
ence fitted with his current work on (for example) meta-
physics or biology. He may have returned more than once
to similar topics, and added to existing drafts in a piece-
meal fashion at different times. It is, in general, more fruit-
ful to inquire how far different elements in his thinking
cohere rather than what preceded what. Further, many of
his extant works read more like notebooks of work in
progress or notes for discussion than books finished and
ready for publication. His writings (like Wittgenstein’s)

reflect the activity of thinking itself, uncluttered by
rhetoric or stylistic affectation. Their consequent fresh-
ness of tone should make one cautious of accepting over-
regimented accounts of his overall project: for it may well
have been developing as he proceeded.
In what follows, I shall aim to introduce a few of Aris-
totle’s leading ideas in three areas only: logic and phil-
osophy of science, ethics, and metaphysics. While these
subjects differ widely, there is considerable overlap of
concerns and interests between them.
Logic and Philosophy of Science. Aristotle was the first to
develop the study of deductive inference. He defined the
*syllogism as a ‘discourse in which certain things having
been stated, something else follows of necessity from their
being so’. Syllogisms are deductively valid arguments, and
include both arguments of the form:
All as are b,
All bs are c,
All as are c,
and
as are red,
as are coloured.
Both these arguments are perfect syllogisms since nothing
needs to be added to make clear what necessarily follows.
By contrast, arguments form imperfect syllogisms when
more needs to be added beyond the premisses to make
clear that the conclusion follows of necessity. It is a dis-
tinctive feature of Aristotle’s account that it takes as its
starting-point the notion of ‘following of necessity’, which
is not itself defined in formal or axiomatic terms. If this

notion has a further basis, it lies in Aristotle’s semantical
account of the predicate as what affirms that a given
property belongs to a substance (and so rests on his meta-
physics of substance and property).
54 Aristotelianism
Aristotle focused on perfect syllogisms which share a
certain form involving three terms: two premisses and a
conclusion. Examples of such syllogisms are (reading
downwards):
All as are b, All as are b, Some as are b, Some as are b,
All bs are c,Nobs are c, All bs are c,Nobs are c,
All as are c.Noa is c. Some as are c. Not all as are c.
He claimed that other syllogisms with a similar form and
the same crucial terms (‘all’, ‘some’, ‘none’, ‘not all’) could
be expressed using one of these perfect cases if one adds
three conversion rules:
From No bs are a infer No as are b.
From All bs are a infer Some as are b.
From Some bs are a infer Some as are b.
Finally, he proposed that any deductively valid argument
can be expressed in one of the four obvious perfect syllo-
gisms specified above or reduced to these by means of the
conversion rules. If so, any such argument can be refor-
mulated as one of the basic cases of perfect syllogisms in
which the conclusion obviously follows of necessity.
Aristotle was interested in this logical system in part
because he was interested in explanation (or demonstra-
tion). Every *demonstration is a syllogism, but not every
syllogism is a demonstration. In a demonstration, the aim
is to explain why the conclusion is true. Thus, if the con-

clusion states that (for example) trees of a given type are
deciduous, the premiss of the relevant demonstration will
state this is so because their sap solidifies. If no further
explanation can be given of why their leaves fall, this
premiss states the basic nature of their shedding leaves.
Premisses in demonstrations are absolutely prior, when
no further explanation can be offered of why they are true.
These constitute the starting-points for explanation in a
given area.
Aristotle’s ideas about the nature of valid inference and
explanation form the basis of his account of the form a suc-
cessful science should take. In terms of these, he outlined
an account of what each thing’s essence is (the feature
which provides the fundamental account of its other genu-
ine properties), of how things should be defined (in terms
of their basic explanatory features), and of the ideal of a
complete science in which a set of truths is represented as
a sequence of consequences drawn from a few basic pos-
tulates or common principles. These ideas, which under-
lie his Analytics, determined the course of logic and
philosophy of science, and to some extent that of science
itself, for two millennia.
Aristotle’s system has its own shortcomings and idio-
syncrasies. His treatment of the syllogistic does not
exhaust all of logic, and not all arguments of a developed
science can be formulated into the favoured Aristotelian
form. His system was a pioneering one which required
supplementation. It was unfortunate, not least for his own
subsequent reputation, that it came to be regarded as the
complete solution to all the problems it raised.

It is important to note that Aristotle’s logical project
was directly connected with his metaphysical goals. His
aim was to develop a logical theory for a natural language
capable of describing the fundamental types of object
required for a full understanding of reality (individual sub-
stances, species, processes, states, etc.). He had no interest
in artificial languages, which speak of entities beyond his
favoured metaphysical and epistemological theory. His
goal was rather to develop a logical theory ‘of a piece’ with
his philosophical conception of what exists in the world
and how it can be understood. In this respect, his goals
differ markedly from those of metalogicians since Frege,
who speak of artificial as well as natural languages,
and domains of objects unconstrained by any privileged
metaphysics.
Ethics and Politics. Aristotle’s Ethics contains several major
strands.
1. It aims to give a reflective understanding of *well-
being or the good life for humans.
2. It suggests that well-being consists in excellent activ-
ity such as intellectual contemplation and virtuous actions
stemming from a virtuous character. Virtuous action is
what the person with practical wisdom would choose; and
the practically wise are those who can deliberate success-
fully towards well-being. This might be termed the Aris-
totelian circle, as the key terms (well-being, virtue, and
practical wisdom) appear to be interdefined.
3. It develops a theory of virtue (*arete¯) which aims to
explain the fact that what is good seems so to the virtuous.
Aristotle examines the characteristic roles of desire, goals,

imagination, emotion, and intuition in the choices and
intentional actions of the virtuous, and explains in these
terms how virtue differs from self-control, incontinence
(*akrasia), and self-indulgence. This is a study in moral
psychology and epistemology, involving detailed discus-
sion of particular virtues involved in the good life.
Each of these is important but controversial, and Aris-
totle’s own viewpoint is far from clear. Sometimes it
appears that the self-sufficient contemplation (of truth) by
the individual sage constitutes the ideal good life, but else-
where man is represented as a ‘political animal’ who needs
friendship and other-directed virtues (such as courage,
generosity, and justice) if he is to achieve human well-
being. On occasion, Aristotle seems to found his account
of the good life on background assumptions about human
nature, but elsewhere bases his account of human nature
on what it is good for humans to achieve. He remarks that
the virtuous see what is good, but elsewhere writes that
what is good is so because it appears good to the virtuous.
One way (there are many) to fit these strands together
runs as follows. The paradigm case of activity which mani-
fests well-being is intellectual contemplation, and every-
thing else that is an element in the good life is in some
relevant way like intellectual contemplation. Practical
wisdom is akin to theoretical activity: both are excellences
of the rational intellect, both involve a proper grasp of first
principles and the integration of relevant psychological
states, and both require a grasp of truth in their respective
areas. Intellectual contemplation is the activity which best
Aristotle 55

exemplifies what is good for humans; anything else which
is good for us in some way resembles it.
But what counts as truth in practical matters? Is this is to
be understood merely as what seems to be the case to the
virtuous agent? Alternatively, practical truth might be
taken as a basic notion. Or perhaps the virtuous agent is
the proper judge because the virtue she possesses, when
allied with practical wisdom, constitutes part of well-
being. On this view, the interconnections between virtue
and well-being would explain why her practical reasoning
is as it is (in a way consistent with reputable and well-
established opinion). This preserves the analogy with
truth in theoretical matters, where inter-connections
between kinds, essences, and causal powers explain why
our theoretical reasoning is as it is (in a way consistent
with reputable opinion). While the third of these interpret-
ations captures substantial parts of Aristotle’s discussion,
he proceeds with characteristic caution and appears
reluctant to commit himself finally on this issue.
Aristotle wrote his Ethics as a prolegomenon to his
study of Politics. This too reflects his interest in virtue and
well-being, but also contains several other major themes.
Thus Aristotle holds the following theses.
1. A city state has as its goal well-being, and the ideal
constitution is one in which every citizen achieves well-
being.
2. In practice, *democracy is preferable to oligarchy
because it is more stable and its judgements are likely to be
wiser since individuals when grouped together have more
wisdom than a few.

3. The practice of slavery, with regard to both ‘natural’
and ‘non-natural’ slaves required to till the soil and main-
tain the state (1330
a
32–3), is justifiable.
4. Plato’s ‘communist’ society of guardians in the
Republic is to be condemned because it leads to social dis-
turbances, undermines private property and friendship,
‘which is the greatest safeguard against revolution’, and is
unobtainable.
What holds these diverse views together? Sometimes,
Aristotle writes as if his aim is for each citizen to achieve
the perfectionist goals set out in the Ethics. However, his
commitment to this ideal is mitigated by other factors
including the need for stability and social harmony. When
these conflict (as in his discussion of non-natural slaves),
he does not give authority to perfectionist values in a
direct or systematic way. It may be that Aristotle thought
that there would be more excellent activity in the long run
if considerations of harmony and stability were taken ser-
iously. But he fails to spell this out or to specify in detail the
distributional policies which are to be implemented by the
wise rulers who hold power in his preferred constitution.
While the Politics contains many influential remarks, such
as those condemning the practice of lending money for
profit and analysing the nature of revolutions, it is incom-
plete as a work of political theory. It also exhibits some of
the less attractive aspects of perfectionist theory: if people
lack the abilities required for a life of excellence, they are
natural slaves rightfully deprived of the basic freedoms

enjoyed by those with higher-grade capacities. Similarly, if
children are born with serious physical handicaps, they are
to be left to die. Aristotle does not seriously address the
intuitions of liberty or equality of treatment which run
contrary to the demands of perfectionist theory in these
cases.
Metaphysics and Biology. Aristotle’s metaphysical pro-
posals have a number of different sources. Three of them
can be summarized as follows.
1. Aristotle’s logical system (as set out above) required
a metaphysical underpinning—an account of species, sub-
stances, and essences—to underwrite his treatment of
logical necessity and demonstration. The same was true of
his semantical discussion of the signification of names and
the principle of non-contradiction. Names signify (in his
view) substances with essences. ‘Man’ has the significance
it does because it signifies the same species on all occasions
when it is used. But what makes this the same species is
that it possesses a distinctive essence which it cannot lack.
The kind occupies its own slot in the intelligible structure
of the world in virtue of its possession of this essence. The
*essence is the fundamental feature which makes the
*substance what it is, and explains the other properties of
the substance. Aristotle was faced with two problems: he
required a metaphysical account of substances, species,
and essence to sustain this view, and a psychological
account of how we grasp these substances and kinds. (The
latter issue is addressed in De anima, where Aristotle pro-
posed that our thoughts and perceptions are of objects and
kinds when we are in appropriate causal contact with

them, and are thus ‘likened’ to them.)
2. Aristotle was convinced that *teleological explan-
ation was the key to the proper study of natural organisms.
What determined a thing’s nature was what counted as its
successful operation: its achieving what it is good for it to
achieve (as is implicit in his ethical writings). These goals,
and being organized so as to achieve them, is what makes
the species the one it is. Some goals are extrinsic; the goal
of an axe is to cut wood, and this explains the arrangement
of the metal in the axe. But the teleological goal of man is
to live a life of a given kind (e.g. of rational activity), and
the rest of his nature is designed so as to achieve this intrin-
sic goal. The distinctive goal of each biological kind is
what determines its respective essence.
3. Aristotle’s critical study of Plato’s theory of *univer-
sals had convinced him that universals could not exist by
themselves, but only in particular things. Since substances
must be capable of independent existence, it appears
that they cannot be universals but must be particulars.
However, this generated a dilemma since Aristotle also
believed that only universals were definable and the
objects of scientific knowledge (in the Analytics model).
Thus if substances are knowable, they cannot be particu-
lars. But now it looks as if substances cannot exist at all
since they cannot be either universals or particulars. Aris-
totle’s dilemma arises because he was tempted to regard
56 Aristotle
particular substances as ontologically primary, while (at
the same time) insisting that understanding and definition
are of universals. The latter thought he shared with Plato;

but the former is very much his own, and one which led to
a fundamentally different account of numbers and univer-
sals than the one Plato offered.
In addressing the first two issues, Aristotle needed to
represent the essences of substances in a way which
respected two ideas: (a) that each substance has one fun-
damental feature which causes its other features to be as
they are, (b) this feature is teleologically basic. Form is the
candidate proposed as the relevant essence of substances,
composed of form and matter. But is the form particular
or universal? How is it related to matter? Is it itself one uni-
tary thing? These questions dominate Aristotle’s reflec-
tions in the Metaphysics, and parts of his account of the soul
in De anima and natural kinds in the biological writings.
Aristotle’s discussion of these issues has generated sev-
eral major scholarly controversies. First, did he take the
notion of one unified substance as basic, and regard its
matter and form as abstractions from this basic notion? Or
did he regard form and matter as independent starting-
points which, when related in a given way, yield a unified
substance? Second, if each individual substance’s form is
unique, how is the form itself individuated? Is its identity
fixed independently of the matter (or the composite) it
informs? Or is it rather a distinct form precisely because it
is the result of a general form informing certain quantities
of matter? Third, did Aristotle regard general forms as
abstractions from the forms of particular substances,
which served as his basic case? Or is the order of explan-
ation reversed, general forms taken as explanatorily prior
and forms of particular substances derived from general

forms enmattered in particular quantities of matter?
One approach (there are again many) takes general
forms as explanatorily basic, and construes particular
forms as the result of their instantiation in different quan-
tities of matter. On this view, Aristotle regards form and
matter as prior to the composite substance, while main-
taining as a separate thesis that universals cannot exist
uninstantiated. Composites such as humans are to be
understood as the result of the operation of form on mat-
ter. They are composed from arms and legs, composed in
turn from flesh and blood, themselves composed from
basic elements. At each level above the lowest, the rele-
vant entities are defined by representing the matter as
serving certain teleological goals. While matter is
described as potentiality, this means no more than that it
can be informed in favourable conditions. This perspec-
tive is at work in The Parts of Animals and De anima,
yielding a distinctive picture of the soul and of animal. The
teleological operations which introduce such phenomena
as desire or perception are not definable in terms of effi-
cient causation, but refer essentially to the creature’s own
goals, such as well-being or survival. Nor can they be
defined as ‘whatever plays a given role in a system of
explanation’, as they are genuine entities in their own
right with their own causal powers and essential features.
On this view, Aristotle is neither offering a reductive
account of psychological states, nor regarding them as
inexplicable or mysterious (as in Platonic dualism).
These scholarly issues remain highly controversial, and
are at the centre of current debate. Other more general

problems are raised by Aristotle’s discussion. First, is it
possible to explain the unity or identity of a particular sub-
stance at all? Second, what is the nature of a metaphysical
explanation which Aristotle is seeking? He appears to offer
a constructive account of higher-order states, in some
way intermediate between reductionism and dualism.
But is this a genuine alternative, and how is the relevant
construction itself constrained? Third, is there always one
teleologically basic feature which explains the presence
and nature of the other genuine properties of substances?
As already indicated, Aristotle made substantial
progress with each of these questions in his treatises on
psychology and biology. Indeed, much of their philosoph-
ical interest lies in tracing how far he succeeded in
explaining the nature of the relevant phenomena in terms
of his central concepts and favoured methodology. The
results, particularly in his psychological writings, are often
exciting and compelling but sometimes inconclusive.
Aristotle encountered serious difficulties in his study of
biological natural kinds. He did not succeed in finding
one basic feature to explain the remainder of their genuine
properties (as required by the Analytics model). Thus, he
saw that fish are so constituted as to fulfil a range of diverse
functions—swimming, feeding, reproducing, living in
water—which cannot all easily be unified in a unitary
essence of the type proposed in the Analytics. The model
he had developed to analyse physical pheno-mena (such as
thunder) could not be applied without major changes
to central aspects of the biological world. Aristotle’s
commitment to teleological explanation generated results

apparently contrary to the guiding idea of non-complex
unifying forms proposed in the Metaphysics. It is not
clear whether he believed that these problems could be
overcome, or concluded that the model of explanation
which applied elsewhere could not successfully analyse
biological kinds. He did not succeed in integrating all his
beliefs into a complete and unified theory.
Aristotle’s writings in metaphysics, morals, biology,
and psychology are unified by common interests in *nat-
ural kinds, teleology, and essence, but they are not parts of
the seamless web of a perfectly unified and finished the-
ory. Aristotle was too cautious and scrupulous a thinker to
carry through a ‘research programme’ without constant
refinement and attention to recalcitrant detail. In this
respect his writings seem to reflect the nature of intellec-
tual contemplation itself. d.c.
*logic, traditional.
J. L. Ackrill, Aristotle the Philosopher (Oxford, 1981).
J. Barnes (ed.), The Complete Works of Aristotle, i and ii (Princeton,
NJ, 1984).
—— (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Aristotle (Cambridge,
1995).
Aristotle 57
A. Gotthelf and J. Lennox (eds.), Philosophical Issues in Aristotle’s
Biology (Cambridge, 1987).
T. H. Irwin, Aristotle’s First Principles (Oxford, 1988).
R. Sorabji, Necessity, Cause and Blame (London, 1980).
W. D. Ross, Aristotle (Oxford, 1923).
arithmetic, foundations of. Arithmetic is the study of the
natural numbers—0, 1, 2, 3, and so on. A foundation for

arithmetic can serve three interconnected interests: an
interest in rigorous axiomatization, an epistemological
interest in the source and justification of our knowledge of
the *numbers, and an ontological interest in the nature of
the numbers.
Dedekind, and, following him, Peano, dissected the
concept of the progression of the natural numbers and for-
mulated an axiomatic foundation for arithmetic, now
known, unfairly, as the Peano axioms. The idea behind an
axiomatic foundation is to set down a small number of
axioms, expressed using a small number of primitive,
non-logical terms, from which other sentences can be
deduced. The primitive terms used are ‘0’ (0 is the first nat-
ural number), ‘successor’ (the successor of 0 is 1, the suc-
cessor of 1 is 2, etc.) and ‘natural number’, and the five
axioms are:
1. 0 is a natural number.
2. The successor of any natural number is a natural
number.
3. No two natural numbers have the same successor.
4. 0 is not the successor of any natural number.
5. For any property P, if (i) 0 has P and (ii) the successor
of any natural number which has P also has P, then
every natural number has P (the principle of math-
ematical induction).
This informal axiomatic foundation organizes and regi-
ments arithmetical truths within an economical system. It
can be formalized by translating the axioms into a formal
language from which theorems can be deduced via rigor-
ous proofs (though Gödel’s *incompleteness theorem

limits the success of any such formal axiomatization).
How is our knowledge of arithmetical truths to be
explained? An axiomatic foundation provides a partial
answer: assuming that the axioms are known, then know-
ledge of theorems is logical knowledge of the logical con-
sequences of the axioms. The outstanding question is:
how do we know the axioms? According to the Euclidean
paradigm, we know the axioms because they are self-
evident, but this is an unsatisfactory answer because
judgements of self-evidence are notoriously fallible.
Rather than appeal to self-evidence right away, Frege
developed his *logicism. The logicist project has three
parts: define the vocabulary of arithmetic solely in terms
of the vocabulary of logic, identify the natural numbers
with ‘logical objects’, and deduce Peano’s axioms as the
logical consequences of logical axioms. Thus the logicist
project grounds knowledge of arithmetical truth on
knowledge of logical axioms which Frege held to be self-
evident. This explanation was ripped apart by *Russell’s
paradox which demonstrated that Frege’s logic is incon-
sistent and which initiated the vigorous foundational
research of the early twentieth century.
The very idea of an epistemological foundation for
arithmetic can be questioned; for example, ‘2 + 2 = 4’ is
more obvious and certain than any recondite set of axioms
of logic or set theory from which it may be deduced.
Nevertheless, an account of the ontological foundation of
arithmetic is compulsory. Prima facie, arithmetical truths
are truths about objects—the numbers. What sort of
objects are they? They do not seem to be either physical or

mental objects because there might not be enough of
those to serve as the numbers and because the numbers
are thought to be necessary existents unlike physical or
mental objects. Thus the numbers appear to be *abstract
entities, as the Platonist would have us believe: either a
sui generis progression or one drawn from a more extensive
kind of abstract object such as sets, but in each case having
no causal powers. Now epistemological problems resur-
face since there is no agreed account of how our know-
ledge of abstract objects is possible. a.d.o.
P. Benacerraf and H. Putnam (eds.), Philosophy of Mathematics,
2nd edn. (Cambridge, 1983).
G. Frege, The Foundations of Arithmetic, tr. J. L. Austin, 2nd edn.
(Oxford, 1953).
I. Lakatos, ‘Infinite Regress and the Foundations of Mathemat-
ics’, in Mathematics, Science and Epistemology, ed. J. Worral and
G. Currie (Cambridge, 1978).
M. Potter, Reason’s Nearest Kin: Philosophies of Arithmetic from Kant
to Carnap (Oxford, 2002).
arkhe¯
. A ‘first thing from which something is, or comes to
be, or is known’ (Aristotle, Metaphysics v. 1013
a
18–19).
Applied to materials which do not arise out of anything
more primitive, to causes of change, to propositions fun-
damental in deductive systems, by teleologists to benefits
and beneficiaries, and, colloquially, since they are sources
of initiatives in states, to governments. Kinds of arkhe¯
are as numerous as ways of explaining or senses of

‘understand’. w.c.
*first cause argument.
Armstrong, D. M. (1926– ). Australian philosopher, Offi-
cer of the Order of Australia, and one of the dominant fig-
ures in the school sometimes known as Australian
materialism. Armstrong was one of the first to advocate
*functionalism as a theory of the mind, and to combine
that view with *materialism. In metaphysics, he has
defended a distinctive version of realism about *univer-
sals. Armstrong’s view is that there are philosophical rea-
sons for believing in the existence of universals, but
universals do not exist independently of the particulars
that instantiate them, and which universals exist is an
empirical question. This view has been in the background
of his later work on scientific laws, and on the nature of
modality. Armstrong’s metaphysical realism, his vigorous
defence of empirical metaphysics, and his clear, argument-
based philosophical style show the influence of John
58 Aristotle
Anderson—of whom Gilbert Ryle reputedly said ‘he
thinks there are only brass tacks’. t.c.
D. M. Armstrong, A Materialist Theory of the Mind (London, 1968).
—— A World of States of Affairs (Cambridge, 1997).
Arnauld, Antoine (1612–94). A brilliant philosophical con-
troversialist, Arnauld exerted a powerful influence on the
development of seventeenth-century thought. When
still under 30 he composed a devastating critique of
Descartes’s arguments for the distinctness of mind and
body, casting doubt on the logical completeness and
adequacy of the Cartesian conception of a pure thinking

substance (Fourth Set of Objections to the Meditations,
1641). A defender, despite his criticisms, of many aspects
of the Cartesian system, he went on to write, with Pierre
Nicole, the celebrated La Logique, ou L’Art de penser—the
so-called Port-Royal Logic—in 1662. In his early seventies,
Arnauld published a detailed refutation of Nicolas Male-
branche’s theory of perception in the Traité des vraies et
fausses idées (1683). A few years later, in a famous exchange
of letters with Leibniz, he argued that the Leibnizian the-
ory of individual substance eradicates genuine contin-
gency and leads to universal fatalism. j.cot.
*Cartesianism; mind–body problem; Port-Royalists.
S. M. Nadler, Arnauld and the Cartesian Philosophy of Ideas (Man-
chester, 1989).
R. C. Sleigh, The Leibniz–Arnauld Correspondence (New Haven,
Conn., 1990).
Arrow, Kenneth Joseph (1921– ). Leading theorist of
social choice, winner of a Nobel Prize in 1972. In Social
Choice and Individual Values (1951), Arrow studied the
determination of rational choice at the collective level for
cases where this choice is to be a function of the prefer-
ences of the individuals making up the collective. In this
study he proved the general impossibility theorem, which
gives rise to *Arrow’s paradox. Assuming that any accept-
able function must meet a small number of intuitive con-
ditions, Arrow proved that there is no consistent function
from individual preferences to collective choice. With
Debreu, Arrow also made a major contribution to general
equilibrium theory. (In an economy in competitive equi-
librium all markets clear simultaneously: there is a balance

of supply and demand in all markets.) t.p.
C. C. von Weizsacker, ‘Kenneth Arrow’s Contributions to Eco-
nomics’, Scandinavian Journal of Economics (1972).
Arrow’s paradox. A paradox in social choice theory. Why
not devise a function which orders options for a society in
terms of the preferences of its individual members? Such a
function would have to meet certain conditions on rea-
sonableness—such as that (a) an ordering could be
obtained from any logically possible set of individuals’
preferences, (b) if everyone prefers a given A to a B, then
that Ashould be ordered above that B, (c) no individual can
dictate the social ordering—there can be no individual
such that whenever he prefers an A to a B, then that A must
be ordered above that B, and (d) the ordering of any A and
B depends on individuals’ preferences between that A and
that B alone. *Arrow proved that there was no consistent
function which met all the conditions. t.p.
*voting paradox.
K. J. Arrow, Social Choice and Individual Values (New Haven,
Conn., 1951).
art. The idea that various activities such as painting, sculp-
ture, architecture, music, and poetry have something
essential in common belongs to a particular period begin-
ning only in the eighteenth century. It was then that the
‘fine arts’ became separated off from scientific disciplines
and more mundane exercises of skill. Later, during the
eras of romanticism and modernism, this became trans-
muted into the single notion of art. Contemporary
philosophers have inherited the notion, but are no longer
entirely sure what to do with it.

One problem is the difficulty of defining art. Consider
what is usually treated as the earliest definition: art as
mimesis, or the reproduction of the world in images. For a
long time painting and literature could be united under this
heading (and a precedent cited in Greek thought). How-
ever, if art is to include music and architecture, as well as
the non-figurative visual forms of the twentieth century,
this definition will not easily suffice. Two notable defin-
itions from the early part of this century built on the rejec-
tion of representation as a defining feature of art: art as
significant form, and art as the expression of emotion. Both
play down the artwork’s relation to reality, in favour of
perceptible aesthetic qualities of the art object itself, or of
the relation between the work and the creative mind in
which it originated. Earlier intimations of both can be
found in the ideas of *beauty and *genius in Kant’s theory
of art. Both object-centred and artist-centred definitions of
art could be used to discriminate that which was ‘properly’
art from that which was not, and such ideas helped in their
day to explain the value of many progressive forms of art.
But each is at best one-sided as a comprehensive definition.
Successive waves of the avant-garde, together with
increasing knowledge of different cultures, have shown
how society’s institutions accommodate radical change in
what is recognized as art. It has even been suggested that
the very point of the concept of art lies in its open-ended
capacity to accept change. Some have offered what is
called an institutional definition of art, prompted by the
thought that the only common feature among artworks is
just their being recognized as art by certain institutions in

particular societies. It would presumably be left to history
to show what these institutions were, and the various
functions or values which the things called art have had
within them. While there must remain appropriate stand-
ards by which one work can be judged superior to
another, it would be hard to deny that the inclusion and
exclusion of different activities from the status of art has
served other functions in society, such as fostering élitism
or class-distinction.
art 59