A recent monograph by D. L. Dusenbury explores and suggests a new interpretation of the treatise De natura hominis by Nemesius of Emesa, which is known to the historians of Late Antiquity as the first Christian anthropology. Since the time of its composition and throughout the Medieval and Renaissance periods, the work attained a wide reception in and outside the Roman Empire. Syriac, Arabic, and several Latin translations of DNH prompted its further transmission. Despite the significant attention the treatise has enjoyed for many centuries, modern scholars (e.g., W. Jeager and E. Skard) have been inclined to regard it as a valuable but unoriginal compendium of the ideas expressed by Nemesius’ famous predecessors. Although the injustice of this appraisal has been brought to the fore by several scholars (N. H. Baynes, B. Motta, D. Amand, p. 25), Dusenbury goes even further in his reconstruction of the authentic and ingenious meaning of the text. He offers a reading that oversteps the practice of Quellenforschung and suggests the answers to some of the puzzling questions and inconsistencies that have not been resolved by the previous generations of scholars.
Dusenbury's hermeneutic methodology hangs upon his premise that despite the skepticism of some of the previous researchers (W. Jaeger, D. Amand, pp. 25–26), DNH has what he calls an ontological structure, which consistently conveys “the cosmopolitan idea of humankind” (25). According to Dusenbury's reconstruction, the tripartite structure of the treatise comprises the initial chapters (1–5) devoted to the question of human substance, followed by chapters (6–28) about human power (dunamis), and final chapters (29–43) on human action (praxis). Dusenbury maintains that the practice of lawmaking is the consequence of the uniquely human power of choice (prohairesis) associated with intellectual freedom and moral responsibility (28). Predicated upon human substance, the power of choice bestows upon man a divine-like capacity of legislation. Dusenbury traces the legal and political leitmotif throughout the treatise's narrative and underscores the integral cosmopolitan nature of Nemesius’ anthropology (29).
Dusenbury rejects the consensus of the more recent scholarship (D. Bender, W. Telfer, M. Chase) on Nemesius’ non-legal professional background and reinstates the thesis of C. Plantin (1565) and L.-S. Tillemont (1714), who linked the name of the bishop of Emesa with a certain Nemesius, correspondent of Gregory Nazianzen and a former governor of Cappadocia Secunda (21). This hypothesis leads Dusenbury to his conclusion, which sets his reconstruction apart from other interpretations of the treatise. As he claims, although “Nemesius’ anthropology is medically informed; it is not, however, medically defined” (29). Dusenbury argues that the defining idea and rationale of the treatise were inspired by the now extinct anthropological text by Zeno of Citium (29).
Although Dusenbury emphasizes Nemesius’ fundamental disagreement with Stoic determinism and fatalism, he elucidates the similarity between the first Stoic and first Christian anthropologies, which both revolve around the concept of a “world city.” Dusenbury plainly states that while Nemesius’ theory is informed and inspired by the Stoics and Platonists, his understanding of a “world city” is authentic and essentially Christian (34, 120, 149–155).
After the introductory chapters, the structure of Dusenbury's analysis follows the logic and sequence of Nemesius’ argumentation. To underscore the cosmopolitan thread of Nemesius’ thought, Dusenbury tracks his usage of such relevant terminology as “communion” (koinōnia) between humans and irrational animals, and “kinship” (oikeiōsis) designating the nexus of creation and providence (41).
Dusenbury maintains that the law-abiding principle of human governance mirrors the plot of the divine commandment and subsequent punishment in Eden. According to Dusenbury's interpretation, the koinōnia of terrestrial life and the divine oikeiōsis that glue together all elements of the physical universe furnish the setting of a “world city” modelled on a formal image of a Greco-Roman city (67). Moreover, this cosmopolitan framework is reinforced and elaborated in a “holographic metaphor” of humankind as a “little world” (mikros cosmos) and “the image of the whole creation” (67).
Thus, the principle of divine governance is mirrored not only in the human polis but also in the human body governed by its lawful ruling part (hēgemonikon)—the intelligent soul (121). Dusenbury persuasively shows how Nemesius hammered home his cosmopolitan ideas using the cognate concepts of dioikēsis and oikeiōsis (121, 159).
Dusenbury culminates his reconstruction by discussing the notion of prosōpon, which he deems a focal point of Nemesius’ final chapters (146–148). An epitome of legal identity and imputability, prosōpon conveys the specifically human characteristics of the power of choice and liability to judgement, which entail the notion of the divine-like governance and cosmopolitan structure of the universe.
Despite its unprecedented legal-political approach to the treatise, Dusenbury's reconstruction is supported by persuasive argumentation and solid philological evidence. In addition to a fresh reading of DNH, Dusenbury offers a revision of the previous scholarly interpretations of the treatise and provides plausible answers to some puzzling aspects of its structure and rationale. One of the undisputable benefits of the study consists in a balanced analysis of Nemesius’ originality, as well as his continuity with classical philosophical tradition.
This being said, it is important to point out some lacunae in the reconstruction. Dusenbury almost glosses over the significant problem of the composition date of the treatise. He simply recycles an old-standing argument about the absence of references to the so-called heretics of the fifth century and Origen's condemnation in 399, which allegedly marks out this year as terminus ante quem of DNH (5). This view has been expressed and also contested by scholars who point out Nemesius’ allusions to Theodore of Mopsuestia, and to the anti-Nestorian discourse of the first half of the fifth century (cf. M.-O. Boulnois, “Némésius d'Emèse et la comparaison de l'union de l’âme et du corps en christologie,” in Patristique et histoire des dogmes, Annuaire de l'École pratique des hautes études [Section des Sciences religieuses 119/2012], 163–172). Even though it would seem that an analysis of Nemesius’ indebtedness to the Antiochian school of thought was beyond the scope of Dusenbury's study, a total omission of this nuance appears slightly unfortunate. While Dusenbury stands on undeniably safe ground in his presentation of Nemesius as a “profoundly Hellenized bishop” (12), it would still be more intriguing to explore whether some of the traces of his philosophically informed cosmopolitan anthropology lead back to the Antiochian background of his thought. Perhaps future researchers might feel inspired to tackle this question. Dusenbury's refreshing reconstruction has certainly opened a new avenue to the philosophical interpretation and historical contextualization of Nemesius’ work.
