Searching for the Divine in Plato and Aristotle begins with an important and often forgotten observation: the term theoria is homonymous, referring to different things that lack a common definition. Prior to its philosophical use to mean “study,” in Plato and especially in Aristotle, theoria referred to two kinds of religious practice: travel to periodic festivals and travel to religious shrines and healing sanctuaries. Ward’s book is not the first extensive study of theoria – for example, works by Nightingale and Rutherford are valuable resources for Ward’s own work. Searching for the Divine in Plato and Aristotle has an important novelty, though: it tackles theoria in its traditional meaning by looking at what happened with the notion in the philosophical world, while also emphasizing the technical aspects of the term when it is at work in philosophical writings.
In the first two chapters, Ward gives an overview of “traditional” theoria. After describing various ways in which this is understood, she points out the common features of these accounts, wondering, at the same time, about the common features between traditional theoria and its Platonic and Aristotelian understanding. Ward’s approach is ingenious: inspired by Aristotle’s procedure to distinguish meanings in a common term in Topics 2.15, she first considers common features between Plato’s use of theoria and its traditional use, subsequently adding Aristotle’s account of theoria in comparison to Plato’s. After this two-step approach, she returns to consider similarities between the two philosophical accounts of theoria and traditional theoria.
Chapter 3, then, is an analysis of Plato’s contribution to theoria. Rutherford’s extensive study had pointed out three analogies between philosophical theoria and theoria in its religious sense: (1) both of them are ends in themselves; (2) philosophical theoria (contemplation) is often presented as religious activity; (3) there is a journey in both of them.[1] Rutherford’s examples are the Republic, especially the allegory of the cave, and the Phaedo, which are the two dialogues on which Ward also focuses. Philosophers too, Rutherford claims, are aware of the differences between the two types of theoria: Plato distinguishes philosophers, who are lovers of the sight of truth, from the lovers of sights and sounds. Ward builds on this suggestion, emphasizing the difference between lovers of sights and sounds and philosophers, but also discussing “bridges” between the two kinds of vision. Her innovative interpretation reveals a purposeful use of the terms, often employed, she says, to contrast the philosophical with the traditional understanding of theoria. What is more, the weaving together of the notions takes place “across two planes in the dialogues, one being structural, the other being metaphysical and epistemological” (50).
On the structural plane, Ward notes theoric references, and the use of ring composition in the dialogues (notably the ascent and descent of philosophers in the Cave allegory), which she takes to evoke circular patterns of movement associated with religious theoria (for example, away from home and back again). On the philosophical plane, Ward includes visual cognition and circular, or elliptical, motion. The Phaedo and the Republic are especially useful for illustrating these themes for three reasons. First, both reflect the contrast between traditional and philosophical theoria. Second, they are constructed theorically, both in general structure and in particular episodes. Third, they give an account of what philosophical theoria is for Plato. Ward is not unique in her approach, and she acknowledges congruences with Barney, Burnyeat, and Nightingale. The main difference between Ward’s approach and that of Nightingale (who also focuses on Republic and Phaedo) is that Nightingale analyzes theoria from a more general perspective, emphasizing its overall presence in Plato’s dialogues. She argues that Plato’s dialogues have a theoric flavor because they displace their readers, moving them into a foreign space: Plato, says Nightingale, “develops a rhetoric that says to the reader: you know not where you are. I call this the ‘rhetoric of estrangement,’ since it aims to uproot and displace us, portraying the familiar world as strange and the strange reality of the Forms as kindred to the human soul. By using this kind of rhetoric, Plato invites the reader to enter into the perspective of the philosophic theoros – to adapt the alterity of the theoric gaze.”[2] Ward builds on this to focus on particular elements, so that she reveals the mechanics of theoria in the dialogues: how they structure the dialogue dramatically and how they clarify Plato’s perspective on the objects of knowledge.
The fourth chapter moves on to Aristotle’s theoria. Ward focuses on Nicomachean Ethics, especially Book 10. Through detailed argument, Ward shows how Aristotle’s notion of theoria no longer has direct references to traditional theoria, but develops the Platonic notion, so that it continues to involve a theoretical apprehension of the highest intelligible objects. Theoria is the happiest activity since it is done with no other purpose, and it is also complete, so that it comprises the highest human end (see p. 86). Aristotle’s description of theoria as valuable for its own sake raises an interesting question about its association with leisure: is theoria a leisurely activity? Aristotle, Ward notices, has been criticized for restricting theoria to the leisured classes. But Ward rejects this account, emphasizing that the association with leisure has to do, not with the condition of a class of people, but with the activity itself. Theoria is an activity of leisure in the sense that it lacks further utility – but that does not make it, Ward argues, the prerogative of the upper classes.
Chapter 5 returns to a comparison between traditional and philosophical theoria, focusing now on the objects of observation. In traditional theoria, these objects are the agalmata, the statues of gods, goddesses, and heroes that are found in the temple. In the transition from traditional, religious theoria to philosophical theoria in Plato and Aristotle the activity of seeing remains, but the philosophical “sacred objects,” the intelligibles, are no longer to be perceived by the senses, but rather with a different organ – the rational part of the soul for Plato, or nous for Aristotle.
The objects of theoria in Plato are, of course, the forms. However, Ward acknowledges that there are certain dialogues where Plato seems to consider the celestial bodies as potential objects for study. For Aristotle, she proposes a non-exclusive reading which allows that god, the unmoved mover, is not the only object of human theoria: the Eudemian Ethics and the Nicomachean Ethics allow that its objects might include celestial objects as well.
The final chapter addresses an important question: why theoria is considered good. Ward begins by distinguishing two classes of good: instrumental and non-instrumental. If theoria is an instrumentally good activity, then its goodness depends on its effect, but if a non-instrumentally good activity, then its goodness is an intrinsic quality. Traditional theoria is indeed valued for its benefits, ranging from personal benefits, those received by a theoros from his travels to periodic festivals or healing sanctuaries, to benefits received by the city from its political relations. In the case of philosophical theoria, Ward suggests that it is to be placed in a mixed class, as something valued both instrumentally and non-instrumentally. It is true that Plato and Aristotle value theoria primarily as non-instrumental. This is especially evident in Aristotle, who emphasizes that theoria is pursued for its own sake. Nevertheless, Ward believes that neither philosopher entirely rejects the idea of the usefulness of theoria. I think her case is strong. While philosophical theoria is not desired for its effects, it still has benefits for the philosopher. For Plato, as Ward reminds us, contemplation of the forms brings about internal psychic harmony, and it has “profound moral, as well as epistemological, implications for the philosopher’s soul” (p. 167). Furthermore, these benefits flow into the city, since the “practical applications of their knowledge are just for the city” (p. 169).
This is an appropriate ending for a volume that brings together traditional and philosophical theoria. One surprising connection between them appears to be the benefit of the practice for human souls. After all, Aristotle’s encouragement in Nicomachean Ethics 10 that we should, as much as possible, live the life of the divine instead of thinking human thoughts is an encouragement to leave our nature (our home) so that we can engage in an activity that will strengthen us. Traveling for pilgrimages, or having moments of divine life in contemplation, cannot leave us untouched when we return; such activities change our souls. As Ward says, “we may comprehend the promulgation of moral ideals as the larger aim that connects philosophical theoria with traditional practice” (p. 188).
Notes
[1] Ian Rutherford, State Pilgrims and Sacred Observers in Ancient Greece: A Study of Theoria and Theoroi (Cambridge University Press, 2013), pp. 325-7.
[2] Andrea Wilson Nightingale, Spectacles of Truth in Classical Greek Philosophy: Theoria in its Cultural Context (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 96.