Customer Reviews

The Fragility of Goodness: Luck and Ethics in Greek Tragedy and Philosophy

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

In this book, Ms. Nussbaum takes on one of the most challenging and heart-rending questions raised by the ancient poets and philosophers: what is the relationship between goodness (good character, right action) and having a good life (happiness, human flourishing)?

With the tragedians, and against some of the philosophers (notably Plato), Ms. Nussbaum considers the possibility that right action and right thinking cannot protect us from the pain of life's contingencies, and (much worse) that sheer bad luck can blight character itself.

Ms. Nussbaum addresses the issues and the texts with respect for their subtlety, with imaginative insight, and with her characteristic regard for reason. Every time she discusses a text, I come away knowing more about that text--and more about life.

"Comforting platitudes" and "sloppy" exegesis? No. Not hardly.

There are two ways one might approach the Fragility of Goodness. One might approach the text in search of careful exegesis of classical texts. If this is one's aim, one will probably be disappointed with what Nussbaum provides in this book. On the other hand, one might approach the text in search of a thought-provoking discussion of important issues in moral and political philosophy. If the latter is one's concern, then Nussbaum's work is rich, exciting and well worth reading.

I am not a classics scholar, so I am not fit to judge the opinions of others stated here that Nussbaum 'misreads' the works of ancient philosophers. Nevertheless, in my reading of Nussbaum's works I do not see any evidence to suggest Nussbaum is being careless in her exegesis and interpretation of the works of ancient philosophy.

Her thesis is quite interesting and intricate, and based around the examination of attempts by Greek thinkers, especially Plato and Aristotle, to overcome the fragility and contingency of our human condition. The bias of Nussbaum is clearly towards Aristotle's down-to Earth philosophy over Plato's attempts to totally transcend our weakness by placing happiness in contemplation of the Forms, though she does not dismiss Plato out of hand.

While one may not ultimately accept her arguments or her thesis, her ideas are carefully argued and supported by close readings of the ancient philosophers, and well worth considering.

Martha Nussbaum is a curious case. Her writing bristles withthe apparatus of scholarship and her considerable reputation is basedon the supposition that her sometimes provocative opinions are grounded in careful reading of the classics. As a devoted reader of classical philosophy and literature, I was prepared to accept this -- until I began reading The Fragility of Goodness and discovered that, on the very first page of the book, she attempts to illustrate her thesis by means of a gross misreading of one of Pindar's odes (Nemean 8). (I don't have the space here, or the time, to explain in detail why hers is a misreading, but it is sufficiently gross that anyone who reads the entire ode, instead of reading only the three lines she quotes, should readily discern her error.)

Unfortunately, this arbitrary treatment of texts shows up repeatedly in the book, and that, combined with her extraordinary pretentiousness, is the reason for my low rating.

There is no disputing that Nussbaum possesses a forceful intellect, and she has ideas that may be worth thinking about independent of her sources. Just don't rely on her to teach you what Aristotle and Plato thought.

Anyone interested in Greek philosophy and literature should read this wonderful book. Nussbaum is the only scholar-philosopher working today with an understanding of the complex and challenging ideas of these texts as well as their literary forms and historical contexts. This book, along with Bruno Snell's "The Discovery of the Mind," is required reading for any student of Plato, Aristotle, and the Greek tragedians (whether they're in a formal academic institution or not).

I agree with the reviewer who finds Nussbaum a careless reader. I have found in almost everything of hers I have read that she tends to base long, intricate arguments on small parts of what someone says--parts that aren't representative of their larger point--and distorts and misrepresents those she writes about. She does this whether writing about an ancient author or a contemporary. How she can do this over and over--and do so in high-profile forums--yet retain her great reputation is beyond me. (Come to think of it, shouldn't those who publish her writings have learned by now that they need an army of editors to fix her work?) Those who like comforting platitudes and the veneer of learnedness and scholarship should enjoy her books, but anyone who wants arguments to be sound and to be on sound foundations should be dumbfounded and distressed that someone like her can be so respected in academia.