Dana Jalbert Stauffera
aThe University of Texas at Austin
Published by: The University of Chicago Press on behalf of the Southern Political Science Association
The Journal of Politics, Vol. 70, No. 4, October 2008
In recent years, several studies have argued that
Aristotle saw the associations of the household as voluntary, mutually
beneficial, and directed toward lofty aims. These studies have brought out
genuine complexities in Aristotle's understanding of the relationship between
the public and private spheres. But, in their characterization of Aristotle's
view of the household, they miss the mark. While Aristotle discusses marriage
and family in other places, he examines the hierarchical aspect of the
relationship between men and women most fully in Politics I. Close examination
of Politics I reveals that Aristotle thought that the subjection of women in
the household was rooted in force.
For Aristotle, the best and highest form of human community
is the political community. Other types of community, such as the household,
are subordinate and inferior to the polis. The household is
subordinate to the political community because the aim of life in the household
is the mere preservation of life, or the satisfaction of life's daily needs,
whereas the aim of membership in the political community is to live well. It is
in the political community that man fulfills his telos or end
by exercising his nature as a political animal. The household is also inferior
to the political community in the character of its rule. In the household, one
man rules, by virtue of his age and his sex, monarchically at best and
tyrannically at worst. In the political community, it is possible for citizens
to choose their rulers on the basis of merit, to share collectively in
deliberation, and to share in rule itself, and thus to experience a form of
republican government. The importance of the household, for Aristotle, lies in
the fact that it liberates free men from concern with daily needs and provides
them with the leisure to devote their time and energy to politics.
This is how Aristotle seems, at least, to present the
relationship between the city and the household, or between the public and
private spheres, in the Politics. In recent decades, some political
theorists have found Aristotle's exaltation of the political a refreshing
alternative, and a helpful corrective, to the tendency of modern liberal
democracies to undervalue the political. However, at the same time, a number of
excellent studies have challenged the conventional understanding of Aristotle's
view of the public and private spheres, charging that it is too simplistic.
Arlene Saxonhouse (1985),
Judith Swanson (1992),
and Darrell Dobbs (1996)
have argued that Aristotle's treatment of the household is both more positive
and more complex than is generally appreciated. They assert that while
Aristotle says that the political community is the natural end of all human
association, he also indicates that the household is in some respects the
superior form of community. While conflicts of interest often characterize the
relationship between citizens, stronger and firmer bonds, such as the shared
interest of parents in the welfare of their children, unite the members of the
household. In the political community, citizens vie for supremacy regardless of
the merit of their claims, whereas the hierarchy in the household is rooted in
nature. Saxonhouse, for example, writes that Aristotle sees the household as “a
cooperative adventure in which the friendship between the members comes from a
common concern for the welfare of the unit” (1985, 87). The family “appears to
order itself naturally” and “to be founded on a natural hierarchy that the city
composed of supposed equals can only pretend to approximate” (85). Dobbs writes
that, in Aristotle's view, “the complementarity of man and woman” provides the
basis for their association in the household.
The man and woman who share unselfishly in the work of
procreation—who do not misconstrue the spousal relationship as merely an
alternative mode of seeking comfort and security—are naturally excepted from
the structures of domination that haunt both partners in self-centered,
security-seeking relationships. (1996, 77–78)
Not only did Aristotle see the household as more natural
than the political community in these ways, they argue, he also saw an
important role for the household in sustaining political health. Far from
viewing the household as aimed solely at the satisfaction of daily needs, Dobbs
(1996)
and Swanson (1992)
contend, Aristotle regarded the household as the primary vehicle of moral
education, the political community's most serious task. Stephen Salkever goes
so far as to deny that Aristotle sees any difference between the aims of the
household and those of the city: “For Aristotle … both polis and oikia,
when truly, rather than nominally, such, aim at that virtue or excellence that
is distinctly human” (1991, 175).1
Studies such as those of Salkever and Saxonhouse have
succeeded admirably in bringing out the complexity of Aristotle's view of the
relationship between the public and private spheres—a complexity that is not
always noted by interpreters of Aristotle, but clearly there. For example, when
Aristotle asserts that the abilities to perceive and communicate about the good
and bad and the just and unjust make us “political animals,” he adds that
“association in these things makes a household and a city”
(1253a18).2 Clearly,
then, the distinction between the aims of the household and the political
community is not as stark as he suggests elsewhere. Rather, the aims of
household and city overlap. Just as concern with the satisfaction of life's
basic necessities is hardly absent from political life, neither is reasoning
about the good and bad and the just and unjust absent from the household.
These studies show persuasively, in my view, that the
conventional understanding of Aristotle's view of the private sphere and its
relationship to the public sphere is too simplistic. However, in maintaining
that Aristotle saw the household as an institution in which men practice a
mild, mutually beneficial rule over willing subordinates, these studies
introduce a distortion of their own. Their arguments draw heavily on Aristotle's
discussions of marriage and family in the Nicomachean Ethics. And
although the Ethics contributes to our understanding of
Aristotle's overall view of the household, it is first and foremost to the Politics that
we must look for his understanding of the political dimension of the
relationship between man and woman. For it is in the Politics that
Aristotle deals centrally with questions of hierarchy and authority—of why some
rule and others obey.
In the Politics, Aristotle appears to present
the subjection of women as part of a wholly natural social and political order.
But careful study of Book I yields a much more complicated picture. Several
interpreters have argued that Aristotle's treatment of slavery, in particular,
has been misunderstood (e.g., Ambler 1985, 1987;
Davis 1996;
Frank 2004;
Lord 1987;
Nichols 1983).
They maintain that although Aristotle holds that slavery could be natural under
certain conditions, careful examination of Book I reveals that, in his view,
slavery as actually practiced in Greece is rooted in force rather than in
nature. Those who have made this argument concerning Aristotle's treatment of
slavery, however, have stopped short of drawing a parallel between Aristotle's
view of slavery and his view of the status of women. If anything, these
interpreters argue that Aristotle means to draw a contrast between slavery and
the subjection of women (see, for example, Ambler 1987,
398–99).
Aristotle does not, it is true, equate the subjection of
women with slavery. But he does indicate important similarities between the
two. While he gives the general impression that the household came about
through the voluntary cooperation of all of its members, he quietly indicates
that force played a considerable role in the origins of marriage. Moreover,
Aristotle indicates that, in his own day, the household had not entirely
transcended its brutal beginnings; the threat of physical force that helped
bring about the rule of men over women continued to underlie and to shape the
relations between the sexes.
To be sure, these are not the conclusions to which one is
led by a cursory reading of Book I. To see the complexity in Aristotle's
argument concerning the status of women requires a willingness to approach Book
I with fresh eyes. Moreover, coming to appreciate that complexity, far from
giving one a comprehensive interpretation of Book I, opens up a new and
difficult question: why does Aristotle give the superficial impression that he
regards the subjection of women—and, indeed, the household order in general—as
much less problematic, and much more natural, than he indicates it is in the
fine print, so to speak? Before attempting to address that question, however,
let us first turn to the arguments of Book I with a view to uncovering
Aristotle's true account of the subjection of women.
The Household's Beginnings in Politics I.2
Women, Slaves, and the Judgment of Euripides
Aristotle's description of the development of social and
political life in the second chapter of Book I is one of the most famous parts
of the work. It is the closest parallel in Aristotle's
corpus to
the accounts of man's emergence from the state of nature offered by modern
political philosophers such as Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau. Aristotle's account
appears to be diametrically opposed to those of the modern philosophers, who
depict free and equal beings living independently and apolitically, and forming
political communities only after rational calculation suggests that
self-preservation requires it. Aristotle gives the impression that human beings
entered into association with one another in the household spontaneously and
voluntarily, and that the growth of households led to the development of
villages, which led, in a smooth progression, to the rise of cities. He appears
to trace the household back to the natural human impulses to procreate and to
cooperate with other human beings in the satisfaction of daily needs; and he
seems to say that the roles that men, women, and slaves play in the household
are in full harmony with their natures.
Underlying these surface impressions, however, are
indications that the development of domestic and political life was not
altogether smooth or peaceful.3 Aristotle's
account of the relationship between men and women begins with an
identification, at the beginning of Chapter Two, of the two basic associations
from which the household develops.
Necessarily there must first be a union of those who cannot
exist without one another, female and male, for the sake of reproduction—and
this not out of choice, but, as in the other animals and plants, out of a
natural impulse to leave behind something that is the same as oneself—and the
natural ruler and subject, on account of security. For the one who can see, by
means of the mind, is by nature ruler and master, and the one who can work, by
means of the body, is by nature a slave. On this account, the master and slave
have a common interest. (1252a26–34)
Aristotle thus locates the origins of the ruler-ruled
relationship in the benefit, common to both ruler and ruled, derived from the
rule of intelligence over the physically able. He presents the association
between male and female as distinct from the association between ruler and
ruled. The latter might be described as the joining together of “brains” and
“brawn,” while the former is rooted in the impulse to procreate. As Wayne
Ambler points out, even Aristotle's characterization of the male-female
association refers to the sexes in the abstract; it does not address the
relationship between men and women in its complexity (1985, 167). In
particular, it does not explain why men rule over women, in addition to
procreating with them (cf. Davis 1996,
19; Dobbs 1996,
77).
How and why does the association between man and woman take
on a hierarchical character? Aristotle begins to answer this question by
commenting on male rule among “barbarians,” or non-Greeks.
By nature the female has been distinguished from the slave.
For nature makes nothing in the manner that the coppersmiths make the Delphic
knife—that is, frugally—but, rather, it makes each thing for one purpose. For
each thing would do its work most nobly if it had one task rather than many.
Among the barbarians the female and the slave have the same status. This is
because there are no natural rulers among them but, rather, the association
among them is between male and female slave. On account of this, the poets say
that “it is fitting that Greeks rule barbarians,” as the barbarian and the
slave are by nature the same. (1252a34–b9)
Here, Aristotle introduces the teleological view of nature
for which he is known. According to this view, a purposive force has arranged
the world in the best possible way. Since the division of labor allows each
worker to do his or her work “most nobly,” nature must have created each thing
with a view to one task. Now, one might well use this reasoning to justify the
place of women in the household. One might conclude that women are born to a
role and a purpose different from that of men. And, given the importance he has
just assigned to the procreative impulse in bringing men and women together,
one might expect Aristotle to identify procreation as the task, or purpose, to
which women are naturally directed. But Aristotle brings in his teleological
view of nature here not to support the claim that nature has distinguished the
female from the male, but rather, to support the claim that nature has
distinguished the female from the slave. If each type of human being has been
created with a view to one purpose, he reasons, then the common practice of
using women as slaves is unnatural. In this way, Aristotle directs our focus
not to the naturalness of the subjection of women, but rather to the fact that,
among non-Greeks, the status of women is unnaturally low.
It is noteworthy that the aspect of the life of non-Greeks
that bespeaks their incivility and justifies their subjection, in Aristotle's
view, is their treatment of women.4 But
why exactly, in Aristotle's analysis, do non-Greeks ignore the natural
distinction between woman and slave? In what, precisely, does the barbarism of
the barbarian consist? According to Aristotle, there are no natural rulers
among the barbarians. But only barbarian women hold the rank or position (taxis)
of slave. Among barbarians, then, naturally slavish men are nevertheless
masters in rank. The principle of rule is clear enough: in the absence of
“brains” to merit rule over “brawn,” “brawn” prevails; men rule by virtue of
their superior strength. Outside of Greece, then, men rule women because they
are stronger than women, and they use that strength to assert their authority.
This passage seems to indicate that the rule of Greek men
over their women, by contrast, is not a matter of brute strength. Aristotle
seems to say that this very fact—that, in Greece, relations between the sexes
are determined by a higher principle than “might makes right”—establishes the
Greeks’ greater civility. Hence the judgment of Euripides: “it is fitting that
Greeks rule over barbarians.” This line comes from Euripides’ play Iphigenia
at Aulis. The play takes place as the Greek army impatiently awaits a
favorable wind to take them from Aulis to Troy. A prophet has declared that the
gods will not send a favorable wind until the general Agamemnon makes a
sacrifice of his daughter, Iphigenia. After initially begging her father for
mercy, Iphigenia suddenly declares that she will martyr herself for the sake of
Greece:
Sacrifice me, I say to Greece, and win Troy. This is my
memorial, my marriage, my children, my duty, all you could wish for me. It is
fitting that Greeks rule barbarians. They are born to be slaves as we are to be
free. (1629–35)5
As Michael Davis (1996,
17) and Harvey Mansfield (2006,
205, 209) note, there is irony in citing, as proof that Euripides believed that
the Greeks are especially civilized in their treatment of women and therefore
deserve to rule, the words of a girl who is about to be sacrificed by her father.
It is true that Iphigenia is not forced to sacrifice herself; she goes
willingly. But what considerations lead her to that choice? Iphigenia “decides”
to offer herself up to the army only once it has become clear that the Greek
army is going to kill her one way or another, and the only question is whether
Achilles is going to die defending her—and with him, any chance of Greek
victory. Faced with this choice, Iphigenia chooses to comfort herself with the
thought that her death will benefit Greece. Far from making a decision free
from the pressure of force, then, Iphigenia acquiesces in the face of
overwhelming force.6
In explaining her decision, Iphigenia argues that, in dying,
she contributes to the noble aim of the war, which is to protect the women of
Greece from the barbarians. A few moments earlier, however, Agamemnon points
out that the army clamors for Iphigenia's blood, and that if they do not get
it, they are likely to turn on Argos and slay him and his family in their beds.
The great cause on behalf of which Iphigenia believes herself to be dying, the
cause of “Greece,” is in reality a conglomeration of city-states just as ready
to fight one another as they are to struggle in common against Troy. He says
that the alleged concern to protect the women of Greece from the barbarians is
not a genuine concern but a pretext offered by the Greek army for a war they
want to fight for the sake of vengeance. Helen herself was not kidnapped, but
ran off willingly with another man; she is not an innocent victim, but a
“whore” (71–72; 435).
This is hardly a story that bespeaks the civility of the
Greeks toward women, or the Greek transcendence of the role of brute force in
male-female relations. It is hardly the play of a poet who believes in
“Greece.” Could all of this have been lost on Aristotle when he approvingly
cites Iphigenia's assertion that “it is fitting that Greeks rule barbarians” as the judgment
of the poets on Greece? At the very least, Aristotle's use of this quote weaves
into his account a thread of doubt as to the genuine superiority of the Greeks
(cf. Ambler 1987,
393; Frank 2004,
101). He leaves us wondering whether the early Greek treatment of women was
really so different from that of the barbarians, or whether it, too, did not
fall short of nature's dictate that women ought to be distinguished from
slaves.
The Formation of the Household: Wives, Oxen, and the Case
of Perses
Continuing his account of the origins of the household,
Aristotle says that the household “first arose from these two associations,”
male-female and ruler-ruled. Once again, he cites a poet as evidence.
Thus rightly Hesiod spoke the line, “A house first, then a
wife, and then an ox for plowing,” for an ox stands in for a servant among the
poor. This association, that has come about by nature with a view to the daily
things, is a household, which is why Charondas calls the members of a household
“peers of the mess” and Epimenides of Crete calls them “peers of the manger.”
(1252b10–15)
Earlier, Aristotle said that male and female were drawn
together by the natural impulse to procreate. Now we learn that the union of
men and women in the household exists to satisfy daily needs, especially the
need for food. The role of women in the household, then, is multifaceted; they
are mothers, maids, and cooks. But if “nature makes each thing for one
purpose,” then the question arises: What is the relationship of women's multifaceted
role in the household to nature? And if the subordinate, multifaceted role of
women is natural, what are the grounds of its naturalness? If “brains” and
“brawn” are brought together by the mutual benefit each derives from the rule
of the former, what brings men and women into a hierarchical association with
one another, with a view to the daily needs of life?
To answer this question, several interpreters look to the Nicomachean
Ethics (Dobbs 1996,
75, 78–79; Salkever 1991,
181; Saxonhouse 1985,
84; Swanson 1992,
52–55). There Aristotle suggests that marriage is rooted, like the union of
“brains” and “brawn,” in complementary abilities.
The love between man and wife seems to be in accord with
nature. For the human being is by nature more a coupling being than a political
one, insofar as the household is older and more necessary than the city, and
the human being has procreation more in common with the other animals. Among
other animals the association goes just this far, whereas human beings live
together not only for the sake of procreation but also for the things of life.
For from the beginning the tasks are divided, the husband and wife each having
their own; they help one another by each contributing his or her own part to
their common life. (1252b10–15)
As Aristotle presents marriage in this passage, husband and
wife each contribute to the needs of the household in accord with their
respective abilities. Not only tasks, but authority, too, are divided and
distributed on the grounds on natural suitability. “For the husband rules on
account of merit, and in the realm that requires a man. Whatever realms are
suited to a woman, he gives to her” (1160b33–35).
In the Ethics, then, Aristotle roots marriage in
a natural complementarity between man and woman. In the Politics,
however, Aristotle points to a different account of the origins of marriage. To
illustrate how the household grows out of the two basic associations of male
and female and master and slave, as we noted, he quotes Hesiod: “A house first,
then a wife, and then an ox for plowing.” This line is from Hesiod's Works
and Days, in which Hesiod advises his brother, Perses, about how to put a
life of degeneracy behind him. Hesiod urges Perses to a life of honest work as
the only reliable protection against destitution. Contrary to what we might
expect given Aristotle's argument, Hesiod does not counsel Perses to get a
woman with a view to procreation. (Indeed, far from encouraging Perses to
fulfill this natural impulse, Hesiod cautions against such entanglements: “Do
not let any sweet-talking woman beguile your good sense with the fascinations
of her shape. It's your barn she's after,” 372–74).7 Rather,
he counsels Perses to get a woman to work for him, to drive his plow.
First of all, get yourself an ox for plowing, and a
woman—for work, not to marry—one who can plow with the oxen, and get all
necessary gear in your house in good order, lest you have to ask someone else,
and he deny you, and you go short, and the seasons pass you by, and your work
be undone. (405–409)
If Perses follows his brother's advice, then, he will not “take”
a woman with a view to procreation. Rather, Hesiod advises Perses to get a
woman because, as Aristotle helpfully points out, male slaves are expensive.
Like an ox, a female slave is cheap help. There is no suggestion that Perses
will acquire a female servant with a view to her interests, or even with a view
to a common good that might arise between the two of them. Moreover, there is
no suggestion that he will allow her a sphere of her own authority, or that he
will assign her tasks on the basis of natural suitability; even if women are
naturally suited to “getting household gear in order,” are they naturally
suited to ox driving?
The account of the origins of marriage pointed to by this
reference to Hesiod is, thus, quite different from the account offered in theEthics.
In both the Ethics and the Politics, Aristotle
begins his account of marriage by observing that males and females are drawn
together by a natural impulse to procreate. But men and women have been
procreating for as long as human beings have existed. His reference to the
Hesiod quote in the Politics suggests that the household
formed—and women came under the rule of men—not because such an arrangement was
mutually beneficial, but rather, because men began to enlist women forcibly in
the satisfaction of their own daily needs (cf. Mansfield 2006,
208–209; Nagle 2006,
85–86).
Why might Aristotle present marriage differently in the two
works? In the Ethics, Aristotle considers marriage in the context
of a discussion of love and friendship. His primary concern is not the basis of
men's rule over women, but the character and basis of the friendship between
husbands and wives. Thus, it makes sense that he would focus on the common
goods that are potentially present in marriage, for such goods are foundations
of marital affection. But such common goods are not necessarily present in
marriage, nor is it likely that marriage began with a view to such goods. This
is not so important in the Ethics, and it may even be essential to
an account of friendship in marriage to refrain from looking too hard into the
precise reasons that men rule. But in the Politics, one of
Aristotle's main aims is to illuminate the nature of the hierarchies that exist
in the political community and its subordinate communities. Thus, it makes
sense that he would indicate in this work, albeit quietly, the true origins of
male rule (cf. Saxonhouse 1982,
206).
Polygamy and Savagery: The Character of Early Household
Rule
If Hesiod gives us insight into how the early household
formed, Homer gives us insight into how it functioned. Moving forward in his
account of the development of political community, Aristotle argues that
households gradually joined together to form villages.
Just as all households were ruled monarchically by the
oldest, so too were the villages, on account of kinship. This is what Homer
means in saying “Each ruled over his children and wives,” for they lived
dispersed from one another. Thus did ancient men live. (1252b19–24)
This line comes from Homer's account in the Odyssey of
the Cyclops. These one-eyed creatures appear as the epitome of barbarism; they
eat their guests. Homer's description of the way of life of the Cyclops is
unequivocal: uninterested in the affairs of their neighbors, each of these
brutes exercised a lawless rule over his family (Odyssey IX.112–15).
In addition to indicating the despotic character of early patriarchal rule,
Aristotle's reference to Homer's description of the Cyclopian household
introduces an interesting wrinkle into the argument, for each of the Cyclops
ruled over his children and wives or bedfellows (aloxon), in the plural,
suggesting that these early patriarchs were polygamous. This is significant. It
underscores the brutality of the conditions in the early household, and the
abysmally low status of women. Michael Davis goes so far as to conclude that
“prior to the polis, there are no husbands and wives. By itself, the household
cannot preserve the distinction between women and slaves” (1996, 24).
If the households of early patriarchs resembled those of the
Cyclops then, at some point, the household underwent a major change from
polygamy to monogamy. How and why might this have happened? If the early
patriarchs were a law unto themselves, it is not likely that a constriction of
their power resulted from a revolution from within. Perhaps, as populations
grew, the men who found themselves without women objected to the hoarding of
women by the patriarchs; perhaps this coincided, as Davis suggests, with the
rise of political authorities who could establish laws regulating the behavior
of individual patriarchs (1996, 24–27). In support of this, Aristotle concludes
Chapter Two by remarking that, although everyone has in himself an impulse
toward political community, the first founder of a city should be regarded as a
great benefactor because it is in the city that virtue and justice develop.
Without virtue and justice, man is the most savage of all animals, especially
with respect to food and sex (1253a29–39). The emergence of political life,
then, allows the household to become more than a means for savage men to
gratify their desires.
If we have any lingering doubt about whether the early
Greeks treated women as property, confirmation comes in Book II of the Politics.
Having moved on to other matters, Aristotle momentarily drops the façade that
he constructed in Book I of the superior civility of the early Greeks.
Considering the possibility that one should not necessarily regard changes in
laws as bad, he remarks, “One might say that the facts themselves are the
proof, for the ancient laws were overly simplistic and barbaric. The Greeks
used to carry weapons and buy their wives from one another” (1268b38–42). It is
telling that the two practices went together; when men are constantly armed, it
is a sign that their society relies heavily on the threat of force to sustain
law and order.
In sum, Aristotle's aim in Chapter Two of Book I is to show
that the city arose naturally, out of subordinate associations that are
themselves natural. But the details of his account of the formation of the
household indicate otherwise. After arguing that women's position in the
household should be completely distinct from slavery, having a different aim
and basis, Aristotle indicates that, in the early household, the man-woman
relationship was not completely distinct from the master-slave relationship,
either in its origins or in the character of the rule to which women were
subject. The association between men and women in the early household aimed at
the satisfaction of daily needs, and it was directed primarily to the needs of
the ruler rather than to those of the ruled.
The Rule of Men, Understood in Light of Its Origins
If the manner in which men acquired wives and governed them
in the earliest times did not accord with nature, perhaps this should not be a
surprise. For Aristotle says in Chapter Two that “nature is an end (telos),
and we say that a thing's nature is what it is when its generation has reached
its end, whether it be a man or a horse or a household” (1252b32–34). If the
household began barbarically, it also became more civilized as political life
developed. The domination of men by women gradually became less despotic and
less extreme (Dobbs 1996,
86; Nagle 2006,
30). The crucial question, though, is this: After the emergence of political
life brought with it “virtue and justice,” how much more civilized did
patriarchal rule become? Did the household of the polis transcend
its barbaric beginnings?
In the rest of Book I, Aristotle speaks to the character of
household rule in the life of the developed polis. He continues to
characterize the rule of men in ways that suggest that superior physical
strength lies behind their rule. The first relevant remark comes in Chapter
Five, in Aristotle's discussion of slavery. The question Aristotle considers in
this chapter is whether any human beings can be rightfully described as natural
slaves. Aristotle first has recourse to the general concepts of ruler and ruled;
rule and obedience, he says, are necessary and advantageous. Whatever is
constituted by a number of things and yet becomes a single thing has a ruling
and ruled element, he argues, such as musical harmony (1254a17–32). The
difficult question, of course, is whether this sort of union ever exists
between human beings. Aristotle notes that in animals, at least in the best
animals, the soul rules over the body. In the well-ordered human being, the
soul rules over the body, and reason rules over the other parts of the soul.
That this is natural and good is shown, he says, by the fact that it is good
for the body to be ruled by the soul, and harmful to both if the order is
reversed. The same is true, he notes, of human beings’ rule over animals: being
ruled by men ensures preservation for tame animals. Next, he says, “further,
the relation of male to female is one of superior to inferior, and ruler to
ruled. And it must be the same way for all human beings” (1254a32–b16).
Aristotle appears here to confirm the naturalness of slavery
and the subjection of women. But on what grounds? There is an important
difference between what Aristotle says about the rule of male over female and
what he says about the other natural hierarchies: in the rule of the soul over
the body and of human beings over animals, a common good derives from the rule
of the superior element. Aristotle says that men are “superior” and women are
“inferior,” but he does not say that the rule of men results in a good common
to both sexes. Most important, the primary meaning of the word he uses for
superior (kreitton) is not wiser or more virtuous, but stronger,
mightier, and more powerful (see also Davis 1996,
24). Now, if Aristotle had indicated clearly in Chapter Two that the subjection
of women originated in a common good between men and women, we might be
inclined not to place much weight on Aristotle's choice of this word. But, in
light of what we have seen, we have to wonder: Is Aristotle saying that the
rule of men over women is natural in the same way that the rule of a soul over
a body is natural? Or is he saying that it is natural in a different
sense—perhaps in the sense that the rule of the stronger is natural? By using
the word kreitton, and by neglecting to affirm that a common good
derives from the rule of males over females, Aristotle leaves the precise
reason that men “naturally” rule over women ambiguous (cf. Ambler 1987,
398; Matthews 1986,
18–19).
After discussing slavery and acquisition in the middle
chapters of Book I, Aristotle returns to the topic of women in Chapter Twelve.
He asserts that slaves, children, and wives are each ruled differently: a slave
is ruled despotically, a child monarchically, and a wife politically. “For the
male,” Aristotle writes, “unless, I suppose, he is constituted contrary to
nature, is fitter to command than the female, and the elder and mature is
fitter to command than the younger and immature” (1259b1–4). As Saxonhouse
hastens to point out, although these lines provide a rationale for the rule of
men over women, Aristotle admits here that reality does not always correspond
with nature's intention. At least in some cases there is a departure from
nature—that is, a husband is less fit to rule than his wife, but he rules
anyway. “We cannot be assured that nature is in control at all times” (Saxonhouse 1985,
71; see also 1986, 413; Nichols 1992,
30). Aristotle's assertion about the naturalness of male rule, like his
doctrine of natural slavery, does not justify the status quo; it
sets up a standard for judging it. Beyond this, though, if the male is by
nature “fitter to command” (hegemonikoteron), the key question is, of
course, fitter in what way? In light of Aristotle's earlier
statement that the relation of male to female is that of “stronger to weaker,”
we have to wonder: Are men fitter to command in the sense that they are smarter
and better? Or are they fitter to command in the sense that their superior
strength gives them the ability to enforce their commands? Once again,
Aristotle leaves the precise character of the natural basis of the subjection
of women unclear.
Aristotle pairs this ambiguous explanation of the
naturalness of male rule with the statement that rule of husbands over wives is
political. With this statement, the problematic character of the status of
women comes most clearly to the fore. Earlier, Aristotle said that men rule
their households as kings (1252b20–21). His new statement that husbands rule
their wives politically seems to revise that account. By characterizing the
rule of men over women as political, Aristotle acknowledges that women are not
children any more than they are slaves; they are, in some important sense, the
equals of men. For a thinker who appears to advocate unreservedly the
subjection of women, such an acknowledgment is striking. And if not for the
complexities and nuances that we have observed in his treatment of the
subjection of women thus far, this acknowledgment would come as an abrupt and rather
drastic shift. When it is read, however, in light of the complexities and
nuances that we have observed, Aristotle's acknowledgement is no surprise at
all; rather, it reads as a first step in the full and final surfacing of a
problem that Aristotle has been quietly indicating, but struggling to avoid
confronting directly, all along.
Aristotle gives only indirect indications of why the rule of
husbands over wives should be understood as political. Of kingly rule, he says:
“It is necessary that a king differ from his subjects by nature, but be of the
same stock. This is the case of the elder and younger and parent and child”
(1259b14–17). If it is not appropriate for husbands to rule their wives
monarchically, it could be because husband and wife are not “of the same
stock.” Perhaps the fact that the bond between husband and wife is
conventional, and weaker, than that between parents and children makes men less
likely to use unbridled monarchical authority benevolently over wives than over
children. But kingly rule also requires that the ruler differ from his subjects
“by nature”; perhaps husband and wife are not different enough in their natures
to justify such rule.
As soon as Aristotle indicates that marital rule is
political, he acknowledges a difficulty in understanding it in this way.
Aristotle explains that although the rule of a husband is political, it lacks
the main characteristic of political rule—namely, that it is temporary (cf. Bradshaw 1991,
563–64). Free citizens take turns ruling and being ruled, Aristotle says,
“since the members of a political association wish by their very nature to be
equal and to differ in nothing” (1259b5–6). And yet, Aristotle continues, “when
one rules and the other is ruled, he [the ruler] seeks to differentiate himself
in external appearances and speeches and honors, just as Amasis said in the
story of his footpan. The male always stands thus in relation to the female”
(1259b6–10). Aristotle's reference to Amasis, punctuated by his remark that the
male “always” stands thus in relation to the female, helps us to see why
marital rule cannot be characterized simply as political. Amasis was a man of
low birth who became king of Egypt. He had a footbath made of gold, and when he
became king he had it melted down and reshaped into a statue of a god. When his
subjects worshipped the statue he told them, “If you can worship one day what
you urinated into the day before, you can defer to me as your ruler” (Herodotus
ii.172). Amasis seeks deference from his subjects, then, despite the fact that
he is not necessarily superior to them. By directing us to this story as a way
of understanding the relationship between husband and wife, Aristotle seems to
be suggesting that, even though men rule their wives as equals, nevertheless,
as rulers, men seek the marks of inequality—“distinctions in external
appearances and speeches and honors.”
Now, if the members of a political association “wish by
their very nature to be equal” and “to differ in nothing,” the first question
that arises is why those who rule such an association would seek to create
distinctions between themselves and their subjects. The answer would seem to be
that, without such distinctions, it is impossible to rule. The members of a
political association merely “wish” to be equal; rule, even political rule, requires
a degree of inequality. But a second question also arises that is much harder
to answer: why would the ruling member of an association of equals be Entitled to
distinctions of any sort? Amasis comes to power by chance, and he seeks
deference on the grounds of his insight that the distinction between the high
and the low, or between the ruler and the ruled, is a matter of form rather
than of substance. But if Amasis’ insight applies to men and women—if men are
not intrinsically superior to women—then how is the permanent rule of men over
women justified (cf. Dobbs 1996,
78; Mulgan 1994,
188; Nagle 2006, 167–70; Nichols 1992,
29–31; Saxonhouse 1985,
72; Swanson 1999,
237–38)?
This question becomes the central focus of Chapter Thirteen,
the final chapter of Book I. In this chapter, Aristotle finally confronts
squarely the question: why should the head of the household rule over his wife,
children, and slaves—especially his wife? He approaches this question by way of
the questions of whether and how subordinate members of the household can
possess virtue. First, he asks whether it is possible for slaves to possess
virtues such as moderation, courage, and justice. “For if it is [possible for
slaves to possess these virtues], then how are they different from free
persons? But if it is not possible, it is strange, since they are human beings
and share in reason” (1259b26–28). After beginning in this way, Aristotle
wonders if the same question might not be raised with respect to women and children,
adding:
And, more generally, we must investigate about the natural
subject and the ruler, whether virtue is the same or different. For if it is
necessary for both to have gentlemanliness, on what account could we say that
one must rule and the other be ruled, once and for all? (125932–36)
Aristotle's use of the word meaning “once and for all” (kathapax)
suggests that he is thinking especially of women, for only in the case of women
has he explicitly raised the permanence of their subjection as a problem. He
stresses that the difference in the virtue of ruler and ruled cannot be simply
a matter of degree: “being ruled and ruling differ in kind, not by greater and
less” (1259b36–38).
The answer at which Aristotle seems to arrive in Chapter
Thirteen is that men and women have different kinds of virtue: “It is clear
that it is necessary for both to have virtue, but also that their virtues must
differ, just as those who are natural subjects differ [from those who rule by
nature]” (1260a2–4). But this conclusion is beset with difficulties. The
reasoning that leads Aristotle to it begins from “the nature of the soul.”
For in the soul there is naturally a ruling and ruled part,
and we say of both reason and the irrational part that there is virtue in each.
It is clear that the same thing holds in other things as well, just as by
nature most things are ruling and ruled. The free person rules the slave, the
male the female, the man the child, but they do so differently. All have the
parts of the soul, but they have them differently: the slave is wholly lacking
in the capacity to deliberate; the female has it, but it lacks authority; the
child has it, but it is incomplete. (1260a5–14)
Once again, Aristotle offers a rationale for the subjection
of women. But its meaning, like that of similar statements that have preceded
it, is not entirely clear. As Saxonhouse points out, the phrase “the female has
reason, but it lacks authority” may mean that women's reason lacks authority in
her own soul, or it may mean that women's reason lacks authority in the world,
i.e., with men (Saxonhouse 1985,
74; see also Dobbs 1996,
85; Levy 1990,
404–405; Nichols 1992,
31; Smith 1983,
475–77; and Zuckert 1983,
194; cf. Achtenberg 1996;
Homiak1996).
In support of the latter reading, Saxonhouse points to Aristotle's final
literary reference in Politics I. To illustrate that certain
virtues are specific to women, he cites a line from Sophocles’ Ajax:
“To woman, silence is an adornment” (1260a30). This line seems to mean that
women should submit silently to the commanding reason of their husbands. And
yet Ajax speaks this line to tell his wife Tecmessa to keep quiet when she is
attempting to give him life-saving advice, advice that he does not take, to his
great detriment. The quotation expresses quite aptly, then, that women's reason
may be sound, but nonetheless lack authority with men (Saxonhouse 1985,
74–75; see also Davis 1996,
26; Nichols 1987, 132–33; cf. Kraut 2002,
214–15; Modrak 1994).
This interpretation of Aristotle's remark would seem less plausible if it
required us to conclude that, after arguing throughout Book I that men are
morally and intellectually superior to women, suddenly, in the last chapter,
Aristotle calls the basis of male rule into question. But our examination of
Book I has revealed the continuity in Aristotle's account of the rule of men. By
saying that women “have reason, but it lacks authority,” Aristotle once again
allows himself to be interpreted in different ways. He could mean that women
are intellectually inferior to men, or he could mean that men's superior
strength lies behind their rule.
From his assertion that men, women, children, and slaves
possess reason in different ways, Aristotle extrapolates that they must also
possess moral virtue differently.
So then we must suppose that it is necessarily similar in
the case of the moral virtues: it is necessary for all to have them, but not in
the same way, and each must have as much as is enough for his own work. Thus it
is necessary for the ruler to have complete moral virtue … while the others
must have as much as falls to them. So it is clear that there is a moral virtue
of all of those we have spoken of, but that the moderation of the man and the
woman is not the same, nor is their courage or justice, as Socrates suggested.
Rather, there is a ruling and a serving courage, and the same is true with
respect to the other virtues.” (1260a14–24)
The fact that free men, women, children, and slaves have
different “works,” or tasks, seems to provide the grounds for asserting that
their virtues differ. And yet, in explaining how the differences in the tasks
of each of these groups bear on their possession of moral virtue, Aristotle
falls back into the language of degree: Each of these groups must have “enough virtue
for his own work,” and each of the subject members of the household must have “as
much virtue as falls to them.” Aristotle thus leaves us to wonder
whether the difference between the ruling and the serving forms of courage, for
example, is primarily one of substance or of mere degree (see also Salkever 1990,
186). Moreover, Aristotle here speaks of which virtues are necessary in
men, women, and children. The original question was whether it is possible for
women and slaves to possess the moral virtues in their full-fledged forms. The
conclusion Aristotle draws, then, does not answer this original question.
Finally, Aristotle says only that “we must suppose” (upolepteon) that it
is necessary that men, women, children, and slaves possess the moral virtues in
the same ways in which they possess reason. The question is, what is the
necessity dictating what “we must suppose?” Must we suppose that men, women,
and slaves possess the moral virtues differently because they do,
in fact, possess them differently? Or must we suppose that they possess the
moral virtues differently because it is only on that basis that the household
order will be vindicated as natural? By neglecting to clarify these aspects of
his argument, Aristotle stops short of affirming decisively that the household
order has a solid basis in nature.
Conclusion: The Household, the City, and Nature
Aristotle's ostensible intention in Book I of the Politics is
to establish the naturalness of the political community and of its constituent
parts, the village and the household. But, as we have seen, the details of his
account of how the most basic element of the social order came into being in
Chapter Two tell another story: the rule of men over women in the household
began in force. In the rest of Book I, Aristotle continues to speak in ways
consistent with the view that the basis of male rule is superior physical
strength. He offers a number of rationales for the naturalness of the
subjection of women. But those rationales are both ambiguous in their meaning
and conspicuously limited. In particular, Aristotle never affirms that the
strongest rationale for the naturalness of an association—namely, that it serves
a common good—applies to the rule of men over women in the household. Finally,
in the concluding chapter of Book I, he raises the question of the justice of
the household order, and the answer he offers to that question is incomplete at
best.
Aristotle seems to have thought that, within the context of
developed political life, some reform of the household was possible. He tries
to bring his readers to see that treating women as slaves violates nature, and
he encourages them to rule their wives as equals. He seems to have thought that
the household had the potential, then, to become more like the community that
Saxonhouse, Dobbs, and Salkever envision, full of mutual affection and aimed at
a common good. Still, Aristotle's efforts to improve the status of women
indicate that he did not think women were typically accorded
sufficient respect. On the contrary, his efforts on this front suggest that the
tendency of household rule is toward despotism and exploitation rather than
toward republicanism and benevolence.8
While Aristotle thought that the household might be
improved, he gives no indication that he thought that the association of men
and women in the household could ever become one of genuine equality. If this
is true, and if it is also true that Aristotle doubted the justice of the
hierarchy within the household, one might well wonder why Aristotle did not
favor abolishing the household, as proposed, for example, by Socrates in
Plato's Republic. Aristotle takes up this Socratic proposal
directly in Book II. Against Socrates’ claim that abolishing private families
would allow all of the citizens to feel as though the city was one big, united
family, Aristotle argues that the real consequence of abolishing the private
family would be that no one would feel strong connections of kinship with
anyone else. Just as wine becomes weaker when it is diluted with water, he
argues, so, too, feelings of love or friendship are weakened when they are
spread out among an entire city or class of citizens (1262b17–22). Rather than
experiencing all of their fellow citizens as their own kin, people living under
such a system would experience nothing and no one as their own. Aristotle
argues that this is objectionable on two grounds. First, to subject citizens to
such an arrangement would be to deprive them of the pleasure that human beings
naturally take in what is their own. He says that the difference between the
pleasure that human beings take in what is common and the pleasure that they
take in their own is “inexpressible” (amutheton). This is true by
nature; nature makes us love ourselves (1263a40-1263b1). Nature further directs
us toward loving our family members by pointing them out to us. Aristotle
remarks that Socrates’ scheme would not work because the guardians would be
able to identify their children through family resemblance (1262a14-24). Not
only does nature instill in us a preference for our own, then, but it also
obstructs attempts to prevent such a preference from developing.
Aristotle seems to have judged that, even if the household
is not natural in all respects, it is natural in this respect,
that it expresses the powerful tendency to love and to take pleasure in one's
own. On this reasoning, the household is rooted not only in the nature of men
but in human nature, for the tendency to love and to take pleasure in one's own
is certainly not limited to men.9 In
addition, Aristotle seems to have thought that the household was essential to
the health of the political community. He argues that abolishing the household
as Socrates proposes would have grave political consequences. First, it would
make the city weaker, for friendship is what prevents a city from splitting
into factions (1262b7–9). Second, it would lead to neglect. People give the
least care to what is common, he observes; they love and care for what is their
own (1261b33–38, 1262b22–23). If wives and children were held in common, crimes
against family members and incest would increase (1262a25–32, 1262b29–35).
Fathers, too, would cease to concern themselves with education. In a city in
which each man has 1,000 sons, Aristotle says, no one is the son of any one
man, but each is the son of all equally; the result will be that all sons will
be neglected (1261b38–40; see also Zuckert 1983,
193; cf. Saxonhouse 1985,
80–84).
Finally, Aristotle notes that an experience of private
ownership, both of goods and people, is necessary to the experience of moral
virtue. One needs private property in order to be generous by using one's
property to help friends and family members, and one needs the existence of the
private family to be moderate by abstaining from other men's wives (1263b7–14).
Without the division of interests among men created by private possessions, it
seems, there can be no possibility of self-overcoming or of self-restraint.
Abolishing the private household, then, would undermine one of the greatest
benefits of political community—namely, that it allows moral virtue to develop
and flourish.
These points can help us to understand why Aristotle does
not voice his criticisms of the household order more loudly. As problematic as
the household may be, it is a crucial support to political life. And yet this
is not to say, as has been argued by many interpreters of Aristotle, that in
accepting and endorsing the private household, Aristotle simply sacrifices
women and slaves so that free men can reap the rewards of political life
(Arendt 1958,
31, 37; Coole 1988;
Elshtain 1981;
Nussbaum 2001,
370; Okin 1979;
Spelman 1994;
Zuckert 1983,
195). It is true that the household provides free men with at least a partial
liberation from concern with practical necessities, and Aristotle does argue
that such liberation is necessary for human beings to devote themselves fully
to political life and to the pursuit of virtue (1328b33–a2, 1278a8–11). But one
of the things that my examination of Book I of the Politics has
shown is that the development of virtue and justice that takes place in the
political community benefits the weak at least as much as it does the strong.
In giving expression to man's political nature, the political community opens
up the prospect of more civilized relations among all of those who live within
it. The development of virtue and justice restrains and moderates men, and thus
acts as a check on their authority. The growth and flourishing of political
life is, for this reason, a good common to both women and men, even if they
partake of that good in different ways.
Aristotle may well have judged, then, that the natural
impulses leading human beings into households are so strong, and that attempts
to abolish the household are so impracticable, that a radical transformation of
the traditional social structure would not be possible. On this view, blatantly
exposing the defects of the household order would not bring about radical
reform. But it would weaken and undermine the strength and health of the very
thing that most improved the household, the political community. If such was
his reasoning, then Aristotle's task in discussing the household in Book I of
the Politics was exceedingly delicate. He had to present the
household in such a way as to indicate its inferiority to the political
community, and to bolster the supremacy of political authority over domestic
authority. But he also had to present the household as a fundamentally good
thing; he had to tread lightly, in other words, on its flaws. Still, Aristotle
aimed to do more in the Politics than foster politically and
socially salutary views. He also sought to convey the truth. And so, while he
shined a brighter light on the more positive, attractive aspects of the
household than he did on its uglier ones, he shined at least a dim light on all
of them. Our understanding of Aristotle's account of the household in the Politics will
remain defective and incomplete unless we see that, within that account,
Aristotle indicates that the hierarchy in the household rests in no small part
on superior physical strength.
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Notes
- Dana
Jalbert Stauffer is a lecturer of government, The University of Texas at Austin,
Austin, TX 78712.
- 1 See
also Salkever (1993,
1006); Saxonhouse (1985,
85; 1982, 203); cf. Nichols (1992,
15–16); Zuckert (1983).
For a helpful review of the arguments of Swanson, Salkever, and Nichols,
see Lindsay (1994).
Mulgan (1994)
provides a broad review of the schools of thought concerning Aristotle's
view of women.
- 2 All
references to Aristotle's works are to the Oxford Classical Text editions.
Translations are my own.
- 3 For
an excellent general discussion of Aristotle's treatment of the
naturalness of the city, and of why Aristotle seeks to defend the
naturalness of the city despite his awareness that it is not natural in
all respects, see Ambler (1985).
- 4 “Every
step in improvement has been so invariably accompanied by a step made in
raising the social position of women, that historians and philosophers
have been led to adopt their elevation or debasement as on the whole the
surest test and most correct measure of the civilization of a people or an
age” (Mill 1988,
21–22).
- 5 References
to Iphigenia at Aulis are to the edition of Slavitt and
Bowie (1998), with minor modifications of the translation.
- 6 Lest
we take this as an isolated incident, Euripides provides additional
insight into the Greek treatment of women through the explanation of
Clytemnestra, Iphigenia's mother, of how their household formed: Agamemnon
not only killed Clytemnestra's first husband and took her by force, he
tore her infant from her breast and smashed its head on the stones beneath
his feet. Clytemnestra's brothers came to her defense but her father
decided, on reflection, to give her to Agamemnon as a wife (1342–52).
- 7 References
to Works and Days are to the translation of Lattimore
(1991).
- 8 At
the same time, the prospect of women enjoying a higher status in
well-developed political communities opens up dangers of its own. In Book
II, Aristotle argues that the women of Sparta dominated the men, owing to
the tendency of warlike societies to be obsessed with sex (1269b23–31).
While Sparta's lawgiver imposed strict military training and rigorous
moral discipline on Spartan men, he failed to assign any education to
women, leaving them idle, undisciplined, and extravagant (1269b19–23,
b39–a9). The influence of Sparta's corrupt women was so great, according
to Aristotle, that it led to the downfall of that regime. “What difference
does it make whether women rule, or whether the rulers are ruled by
women?” he asks. “The results are the same” (1269b32–34). If it is not
desirable for women to be slaves, it is also not desirable that they be
tyrants. And yet, even in his characterization of the situation in Sparta,
Aristotle is careful to distinguish the status of Spartan women from that
of actual rule; as much as Spartan women may have “ruled” Spartan men,
exerting influence over them as objects of erotic attraction, the fact
remains that they were not themselves rulers—they did not share in actual
political power.
- 9 For
an ancient expression of this point, see Oikonomicus IX.18–19.
