W.'s study examines the relationship between traditional and philosophical theōria, as conceptualised by Plato and Aristotle. The scope of the book overlaps significantly with A. Nightingale's excellent Spectacles of Truth in Classical Greek Philosophy (2004), but differs slightly in emphasis. While Nightingale traces its history, W. focuses more on the three different conceptions of theōria.
How are these three different conceptions related? W. challenges herself to show that traditional and philosophical theōria are not merely homonymous. The former comprises festival attendance and trips to a sanctuary, whereas the latter consists in the apprehension of forms, differently spelled out for Plato and Aristotle. W. works hard to show that there is something like the essence of theōria (ET), namely ‘engaging in visual activity for the sake of observing something sacred or of high significance’ (p. 27). This quote shows, in my view, what is problematic about W.'s conceptual approach to theōria. In order to understand how a visual experience is essential to theōria in Plato and Aristotle, one needs to tell quite a story. W. tells this story well for Plato, stressing that recollection as a method for grasping the forms requires visual input and that the ascent from the cave in the Republic also brims with visual terminology. But if the philosopher ‘once in possession of the forms as objects of theoria … is epistemically free’ (p. 136), not all cognition of the forms is tethered to visual activity. W. shows nicely how Plato uses the perceptual terminology to transform perception to some other kind of cognition, but in this case, ET fails to be literally true. Similarly, for Aristotle, cognising substantial forms requires perceptual input at some point, but calling them up and contemplating them need not do so. Again, this seems to contradict ET. Even if one were to remedy ET to something that applies to all kinds of theōria, I am left wondering what would be gained by constructing such a highly general concept of theōria. Since none of the ancient authors used it – how does it improve our understanding of their texts?
In the first three chapters W. cites from a wide range of texts to map out what traditional theōria is and how Plato uses it to develop the concept of philosophical theōria. While interesting, I found this part of the book a bit frustrating because the texts were not read in their own right and properly contextualised, but cited in order to conform to a view about theōria. For example, the concern with the unity of the concept of theōria makes it necessary for W. to cite brief passages of Plato and Aristotle and to defer more thorough examination of these texts. But this is just to say that the ‘pedimental construction’ of W.'s study did not work for me. Other readers may be more inclined to appreciate the non-linear structure of the argument (pp. 10–11). That said, I found the second half of the book much more rewarding. From Chapter 4 onwards the level of argument changes dramatically because W. examines and interprets key texts in detail. The analysis of Aristotle's argument in EN X.7 in Chapter 4 helps support W.'s claim that Aristotle builds on Plato's concept of theōria, rather than on the traditional one. She stresses rightly that much of the literature examines Aristotelian theōria with a view to value only (a topic to which she returns in Chapter 6). But to assess the value properly, one must first establish what theōria is – which she proceeds to do by means of explicating the features of theōria in EN X.7.
A thorough examination of the nature of theōria requires examining its objects. Chapter 5 – both the longest and most interesting in the book – addresses this topic. W. nicely brings out the role of agalmata (‘figures, statues, representations’) in traditional theōria, arguing that these immediate objects tend to involve mediate objects, namely the deities they represent. This distinction between immediate and mediate objects of theōria goes some way towards making ET more plausible in the case of Plato – which is part of what W. does in Chapter 5. As before, W. is at her best when turning to Aristotle. What does it mean that the objects of theōria are highest? She distinguishes helpfully between an ontological and an epistemological reading. According to the former, the proper object of theōria would be god (or gods), whereas the latter comprises in addition substantial forms, laws of logic and mathematical axioms. While I am inclined to side with W. against the narrow ontological reading, I find her argument not fully convincing.
I will highlight what I take to be the most important reason, as it concerns both interpretations and shows where W. takes a misleading shortcut. W. cuts short the indispensable investigation into the cognitive state or capacity activated in theōria. She relies on a claim taken from J. Burnet's commentary on the EN, namely that theōria is ‘the activity (energeia) of scientific knowledge (episteme)’ (p. 147). From this premise she draws the conclusion that god could not possibly be an object of theōria because we do not have demonstrative knowledge of god. At best, we might deduce that god exists and has certain qualities, but this falls short of scientific knowledge. This argument rules out the ontological reading of ‘highest objects’, but also has consequences for the epistemological alternative. As we cannot have demonstrative knowledge of logical principles of mathematical axioms, theōria in the proper sense can be only of substantial forms (and forms of their parts, p. 152). On this assumption, Plato and Aristotle agree that ‘the objects of philosophical theoria are forms, or formal essences’ (subject to different metaphysics, p. 153). However, a more thorough investigation of the relevant state or capacity would have suggested sophia (‘theoretical wisdom’) as the relevant virtue, not epistēmē (EN X.7, 1177a23–7). Aristotle makes clear that the wise person not only has demonstrative knowledge, but also grasps the principles correctly and thereby possesses knowledge of the most estimable things – things better-than-human (EN VI.7, 1141a18–20). Even if our knowledge of god is sketchier than that of animals, the former is nevertheless more valuable, as Aristotle puts it in the famous passage from Parts of Animals I.5, 644b31–5. Since it is supposed to be our highest and most valuable cognitive activity, it would be odd if theōria were not to include the cognition of god or other fundamental principles. Hence, Plato's and Aristotle's views might stand in a more complicated relation.
The final chapter deals with the value of theōria. W. argues plausibly that the value of traditional theōria consists in its consequences (such as diplomatic connections or bodily health). The philosophers, by contrast, do not take the value of theōria to be derivative. For Plato, W. maintains, theōria is primarily good in itself and only secondarily useful. Here, I found the political dimension of the Republic underplayed. From the perspective of the founders of kallipolis, is theōria really primarily good, independently of its consequences? Or is the reason why people are educated to engage in theōria that the city should have competent rulers? However, from the perspective of those who are educated, theōria might seem primarily good in itself, as W. aptly emphasises. She finds a similar position in Aristotle, namely that theōria is primarily good in itself and only secondarily useful. By stressing the good consequences of theōria, she offers a welcome corrective to the view maintained by A. Nightingale and others that theōria is completely useless.
In nuce, W. argues that Plato's and Aristotle's concepts of theōria are very similar in respect of their objects and their value, and that both can be fruitfully contrasted with traditional theōria, which differs in both respects. Barring my disagreements, this seems to me a perfectly respectable and even interesting result that those engaging with theōria should take into account.
