This chapter offers an overview of the reception of Aristotle’s biology in antiquity and beyond. It argues that Aristotle’s biology remained largely at the margins of the philosophical tradition even after the so-called return to Aristotle in the first century BC. The relative lack of engagement with Aristotle’s biological works reflects a change in the philosophical agenda. While Aristotle placed great emphasis on the philosophical dimension of his biology, his immediate successors considered biology an expendable part of their agenda. For a full appreciation of what Aristotle achieved in the field of biology, we have to go beyond antiquity. The reappropriation of Aristotle’s biological writings was a gradual process that began in the Arabic world and continued in the Latin world.

This chapter compares Aristotle’s theory of generation and Darwinian evolution by natural selection. It begins by explicating Aristotle’s distinction between intrinsic (kat’auta) and incidental (kata sumbêbêkos) final causation. Aristotle uses this distinction to differentiate Empedocles’ account of generation as incidentally final from his own intrinsically final view. Like Empedocles, Aristotle accepts spontaneous generation, but only as an exception to formal, sexual reproduction. In consequence, he describes spontaneous generation differently from Empedocles.

The chapter goes on to argue that by these standards Darwinian natural selection is intrinsically final and biologically (but not cosmologically) teleological. Accordingly, it is not nearly as similar to Empedocles’ primitive theory of “natural selection” as is sometimes assumed. That this difference was not apparent to Darwin’s contemporaries, or even to Darwin himself, is attributed to Darwinism’s subtle mixture of chance, determinism, and biological teleology. At first, the effects of medieval creationism on Aristotle’s hylomorphism and deterministic views about science were prominent factors standing in the way of understanding the logic of adaptive natural selection. Mid-twentieth-century Neo-Darwinism made the telic logic of Darwinian adaptation more perspicuous. Recent developments in regulatory genetics promise to give evolutionary meaning to something akin to Aristotle’s epigenetic account of generation.

Aristotle’s biological treatises are full of explicit commitments to empiricism, expressing both his own views about how one should conduct biological investigations while using observation and sharp critiques of his predecessors for failing to see the facts. This chapter examines some of the most prominent features of Aristotle’s commitments to empirical methods as they can be observed to be at work at the most basic level of his science of biology, that is, at the level of establishing the facts about the parts, activities, lives, and characters of animals as collected in his History of Animals (HA). Specifically, the chapter discusses Aristotle’s methods for establishing and evaluating facts as well as the sometimes all too important role played by folklore, fables, and hearsay in Aristotle’s collection of zoological facts.

In this chapter I introduce the thesis that Aristotle’s biology was considerably influenced by medical tradition as represented by the so-called Hippocratic writings. I start with a brief discussion of the history of the debate and the state of investigation and introduce the main advocates as well as opponents of the thesis. I then focus on Aristotle’s remarks on distinguished physicians and the relationship between medicine and natural philosophy in Parva Naturalia. With the help of selected passages from the Hippocratic On Regimen, On Flesh and On Ancient Medicine I make the case that Aristotle reflects upon a specific medical debate on the first principles of human (and animal) physiology and clarifies his own position in it, namely that he takes sides with those physicians who practice their discipline “in a more philosophical manner” and who employ heat, cold, and other such qualities as the starting points of their physiological explanations.

Parts of Animals Book 1 is mainly concerned with a discussion of the norms (horoi) that govern natural (biological) inquiry. In the present chapter I examine one of those norms, which concerns “how one ought to carry out an investigation of animals” (PA 1.1.639b3–5). Aristotle examines two alternative methods. The first recommends investigating animals species by species (e.g. sparrow, finch, raven). The second begins by grouping species into wider kinds (e.g. bird) and studies those features that belong to them as members of those wider kinds before going on to study those variations that differentiate one form of that kind from another (e.g. variations in beak shape). While scholars have been tempted to conclude that Aristotle rejects the first method outright, I argue that he thinks both approaches are important tools in the biologist’s tool-kit (PA 1.4.644b1–6). In the final section of the chapter I show how this discussion helps bring into focus the broader controversy surrounding the relation between the scientific theory presented in the Posterior Analytics and Aristotle’s scientific practice in the biological works.

Biology and theology are interdependent theoretical sciences for Aristotle. In prominent discussions of the divine things (the stars and their unmoved movers) Aristotle appeals to the science of living things, and in prominent discussions of the nature of plants and animals Aristotle appeals to the nature of the divine. There is in fact a single continuous series of living things that includes gods, humans, animals, and plants, all of them living and, in a way, divine. Aristotle has this continuum of divine beings, and a theory of value that corresponds to it, in mind not only in key parts of his theology and natural science (including astrophysics and biology), but also in his practical philosophy. Here I can do little more than call attention to some important texts and attempt to offer a coherent account of them, without being able to enter into the usual interpretive disputes. I begin by clarifying the terms “theology” and “biology” and their place in Aristotle’s division of philosophy. Next, I discuss how Aristotle’s theology is informed by his biology, and then how his biology is informed by his theology. I end by discussing some implications of the interdependence of biology and theology for Aristotle’s ethics and exhortation to philosophy.

Aristotle is a political scientist and a student of biology. Political science, in his view, is concerned with the human good and thus it includes the study of ethics. He approaches many subjects from the perspective of both political science and biology: the virtues, the function of humans, and the political nature of humans. In light of the overlap between the two disciplines, I look at whether or not Aristotle’s views in biology influence or explain some of his theses in political science. I show that we should not seek a unified answer to this question, for the relationship between the two disciplines varies depending on the topic. In some cases, for example the nature of the human function, the biological background is likely to be endorsed as one of the presuppositions of the ethical enquiry. In other cases, for example the study of social hierarchies, even though the ethical works and the biological works come to similar conclusions, it is hard to establish that the biological approach is intended to provide support to the ethico-political approach. In conclusion, I show that Aristotle’s political science and his biology are in conflict at least in two important cases: his account of justice towards nonhuman animals and his exhortation to contemplate.

Aristotle’s biology and contemporary evolutionary biology appear to be fundamentally at odds. Any comparative biology seeks to explain the fit and diversity of organismal form, but Aristotelian and contemporary biology do so in very different, evidently incompatible, ways. In this chapter, I argue for a reconciliation between the two biologies. Recent advances in evolutionary thinking suggest that the form of population thinking pursued by twentieth-century evolutionary biology must be augmented by an understanding of the ways in which organisms as adaptive, purposive entities contribute to adaptive evolution. Moreover, the phenomenon of adaptation cannot adequately be understood unless we take into account the ways in which an organism’s “way of life” structures its experience of its conditions of existence. The active role that organisms play in evolution is nicely captured in Aristotle’s concept of bios – way of life.

In eighteenth-century Britain, philosophy was a broader subject than it is today and included many subjects covered elsewhere in this book, such as science, political theory, and theology. This chapter focuses chiefly on those eighteenth-century topics in philosophy that have most shaped present-day philosophical discussion. The first of these is epistemology or the theory of knowledge: the study of what we know and how we know. John Locke, David Hume, and Thomas Reid called this the study of the human mind or understanding. We will also consider another area where the contributions of eighteenth-century British philosophers are widely recognized today: the work in moral and ethical philosophy of a group of thinkers commonly called the ‘British moralists’. From the ancient Greeks and Romans, eighteenth-century thinkers inherited an understanding of philosophy as a way of life and a guide to living well. On what basis do we arrive at moral principles of right and wrong, and what motivates us to follow those principles in our actions: our reason or our feelings? These questions concerned such thinkers as Samuel Clarke, the earl of Shaftesbury, Francis Hutcheson, and Adam Smith.

This chapter surveys the origins of aesthetics in eighteenth-century literary criticism, as major poets were examined in the light of concepts such as ‘beauty’. The treatment of art as a topic for moral thought gave a more polite, philosophical turn to the hitherto raucous and satirical character of early eighteenth-century critical practice. The chapter examines the development of thought about form and psychology encouraged by seventeenth-century French critics, followed by Addison, Shaftesbury, and later thinkers such as Burke, who presaged the gothic. Particular attention is given to Hume, Alison and Gerard, together with other Scots theorists of ‘belles lettres’. The discussion charts the increasing influence on criticism of such terms as ‘sublime,’ ‘taste,’ ‘genius,’ ‘originality,’ ‘imagination, and ‘art’ itself. An important element is the place of creative writers as aesthetic theorists, such as Pope, Joseph Warton, and Edward Young. Nor is the period’s greatest critic, Samuel Johnson, immune to the vocabulary of aesthetics. The contribution of visual artists is illustrated by the writings of Hogarth and Reynolds, while a final section examines theory’s relation to practice.

The Introduction offers a contextual framework for exploring aspects of eighteenth-century thought. In the first section, ‘Ideas and their history’, the question of how to approach the ways of thinking that animated English-speaking peoples some three centuries ago is briefly considered. This is followed by an outline of how knowledge was structured in the eighteenth century, particularly as this is reflected in the pioneering encyclopedias of the period, such as Ephraim Chambers’s Cyclopédia and the French Encyclopédie. The limitations of attempts to label the prevailing intellectual ethos of the period (Age of Reason, of Revolutions, of Enlightenment, of secularization, of progress) or to define its temporal limits (the ‘long’ eighteenth century) are next considered. The introduction concludes with a discussion of the institutional framework and social habits—elements of the sociology of knowledge—that structured intellectual inquiry in the eighteenth century. A short appendix of terms highlights differences between the meanings of key words in the eighteenth and the twenty-first centuries: how they were understood and used then, in contrast with their meaning for us now.

The British Enlightenment grappled with the concept of “modern history”: what it should contain and what kind of guide to the world it should be. This chapter examines the decline of neoclassical assumptions about history writing in the context of Britain’s rapid social transformation and the emergence of its robust commercial society. A new pressure for historiography to acknowledge this modern world led historians to profound questions about the relation between present and past. How was the eighteenth-century world different from what came before it? When and where did its modernity begin? Asking and answering these questions produced not only new kinds of history writing but also new readers and writers of history. Setting aside the history of great men, new kinds of histories made clear that everyone is a historical actor, opening the door for women and men who would never be statesmen to tell their stories. New histories took many forms, and the chapter’s sections focus on the different answers to questions about the past—and how to represent it-- provided by philosophical history writing, antiquarianism, and the novel.

The eighteenth century was a period of dramatic change in political and legal thought. Much of the way in which we currently conceive of democratic institutions and the responsibilities and rights attached to citizenship can be traced back to concepts that dominated eighteenth-century thought. The social contract was debated by figures such as John Locke, Algernon Sidney, David Hume, Edmund Burke, and Mary Wollstonecraft. Among the many issues under deliberation were the validity of consent, the will of individuals, the role of virtue, and the rights of self-governance. Legal thought was very closely tied to political thought because law was a foundation of political authority. Natural law, which was associated with divinity, rose in importance because it protected inalienable rights, such as self-preservation. Positive law, that is, laws of civil society such as common law and statute law, could be reformed and updated as civil society evolved. This flexibility was praised by jurists such as Lord Mansfield, but it also drew attempts to clarify and systematize law by Sir William Blackstone and Jeremy Bentham, as they prepared the citizenry for a growing engagement with the law.