O’Reilly, Katharine, and Pellò, Caterina (eds.). Ancient Women Philosophers: Recovered Ideas and New Perspectives. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2023, xv + 272 pp.

Works by ancient women philosophers are exceedingly rare. Overall, only one text, Ban Zhao’s Confucian Admonishments for Women, can be securely linked to a historical woman writer. Yet many ancient texts offer glimpses of women thinkers. Some, such as Plato’s Symposium, are by well-known writers; others, like the Mahabharata, are the work of several authors and underwent numerous revisions. To complicate matters further, some texts of uncertain attribution, such as Pythagorean pseudepigrapha, may well have been written or edited by women. Can we and should we try to identify in these texts a hidden transcript of women’s contributions to ancient thought?

The essays in Ancient Women Philosophers, edited by Katharine R. O’Reilly and Caterina Pellò, respond in the affirmative and propose a repertory of strategies for how one might recover women’s ideas. The introduction surveys various approaches, from frameworks that set aside the question of historicity (such as proposed by this reviewer), to programmatic efforts to acknowledge all references to women philosophers as historical. Prudently, the editors avoid normative generalizations and suggest that “each philosopher and source demands a nuanced approach.” I will therefore discuss the essays one by one in some detail. Chapters are arranged (largely) chronologically, spanning a period of more than 1 000 years. Most focus on Greece and Rome, but one chapter on the Indian and one on the Chinese tradition suggest that women have a place in a global history of ancient philosophy. They take the reader from the Symposium’s Diotima (Ch. 1), and the Mahabharata’s Sulabha (Ch. 2); through indirect evidence for women’s contributions to medical literature (Ch. 3); through the testimonies to women Epicureans (Ch. 4), Arete the Cyrenaic (Ch. 5), women Stoics (Ch. 6), and the texts attributed to women Pythagoreans (Ch. 7 and 8); to Macrina the Younger (Ch. 9), and the late Neoplatonic philosophers (Ch. 10); to Ban Zhao (Ch. 11), and premodern receptions of Plato (Ch. 12).

The first two chapters demonstrate how to read women’s utterances in philosophical dialogues in ways that both acknowledge gender and undermine gender binaries. Frisbee C. C. Sheffield in Chapter 1, “Beyond Gender: The Voice of Diotima” deftly dismantles David Halperin’s influential reading of Diotima in the Symposium as an erasure of the feminine. Sheffield argues instead that Diotima’s voice disrupts the dynamic of the all-male gathering, with the gendered imagery of her intervention unsettling binary expectations. On Sheffield’s analysis, the language of the key passage describing birth and pregnancy (206d3-e1) is remarkably inclusive. For example, the verbs kueō and tiktō, which translators into English render by gender-specific terms ‘to be pregnant’ and ‘give birth’ (respectively), are less gender-specific in Greek, where they can mean ‘conceive’ and ‘bring forth.’ Such language, Sheffield argues, suggests that that human creativity is not bound by binary set-ups. The Symposium’s message on the gender of thought is to be sought not in the exclusion of women from the banquet (which reflects social practice) but in Diotima’s lecture on ‘to metaxū,’ the space of mediation, fluctuation, and non-binary thinking.

Brian Black in Chapter 2, “Sulabha and Indian Philosophy: Rhetoric, Gender, and Freedom in the Mahabharata” analyzes an episode of the Mahabharata in which the yogini Sulabha debates the philosopher-king Janaka. Readers unfamiliar with Hindu thought will appreciate Black’s efficient introduction of the ideals at stake in this debate: the ascetic renunciant focused on achieving enlightenment (moksa), and the householder oriented towards the society and its laws (dharma). In the debate, Janaka advocates that a householder may have it both ways, that is, achieve enlightenment without renouncing the comforts of a prosperous life, rendering the renunciant’s path meaningless. Sulabha, the ascetic yogini, appears at Janaka’s court and “enters his being” to challenge him. The king is not amused, and his objections to this intimate intrusion center largely on her being a woman. She retorts that if the king were truly enlightened, he would not see her as a being alien and separate from his own self. Black, who has elsewhere argued that Sulabha claims that the self is always the same, regardless of gender, here emphasizes the innovation of the position that one’s views on gender can “serve as a litmus test” of whether or not one has achieved enlightenment.^[1]

In Chapter 3, “Women’s Medical Knowledge in Antiquity: Beyond Midwifery,” Sophia M. Connell explores women’s expertise embedded in ancient Greek writings on medicine and biology. With the evidence for women doctors in antiquity, and the significant overlap between medical theory and philosophy, Connell argues that women medical experts can safely be recognized as contributors to a philosophical tradition. While she admits that her argument is ‘from silence,’ Connell effectively builds a case against the silence about women’s contributions to medical theory. She points out that women’s knowledge was theorized. Medical writings refer to knowledgeable women who draw on both experience and theories about the female body, particularly its reproductive functions. Connell highlights that these theories permeate the Hippocratic treatises on women’s health and appear in Aristotle and Plato.

Critics of ancient Epicureans, such as Cicero and Plutarch, name several women affiliated with the school; most famous are Themista and Leontion. The critics present the women as het-airai and argue that their presence in the ‘Garden’ illustrates the male Epicureans’ addiction to pleasure. Kelly Arenson in Chapter 4, “Ancient Epicureans and their Anti-hedonist Critics,” proposes a sophisticated two-step reading of such representations. Her first move is to point to recent arguments against understanding hetairai as simple sex workers. The scandalizing portrayal of female Epicureans may then misrepresent a far less salacious reality of women thinkers participating in Epicurean discussions. Arenson’s second move is to read the reports through the lens of Epicurean sexual ethics, which views sexual desire as a function of a healthy organism. Based on this premise, male and female Epicureans would have strictly philosophical reasons for treating sexual relations casually. Whichever angle we choose, as Arenson reasons, we may in the end conclude that “women were there in the Garden as intellectuals.”

Katharine O’Reilly in Chapter 5, “Arete of Cyrene and the Role of Women in Philosophical Lineage” examines the philosophical legacy of Arete of Cyrene, the daughter of Aristippus the Elder, and mother and teacher of Aristippus the Younger. Although she was clearly an important figure in the Cyrenaic tradition, no writings by Arete or accounts of her thought have survived. In response to this paradox, O’Reilly offers careful methodological reflections, proposing that modern critics adopt towards Arete the kind of interpretive generosity that has long been awarded to early philosophers such as Thales. She outlines diverse tactics, such as the use of indirect evidence, philosophical biographies, and Socratic Epistles (as indicators of her philosophical legacy), as well as taking into consideration the fact that we rely on texts written by men. Thanks to such tactics, O’Reilly conjures up the portrait of a teacher, head of a school, and practitioner of the Cyrenaic lifestyle. While she does not claim to have recovered the content of Arete’s teachings, her analysis allows us to acknowledge her impact on Cyrenaic philosophy.

The Stoics, like Plato, theorized that women have the same capacity for moral reasoning as men; Antipater, Musonius, and Hierocles waxed lyrical about marriage as a union of souls. And yet, no texts—or even reports of texts—by Stoic women have come down to us. Worse, the extant Stoic literature is curiously short on models of Stoic women. Kate Meng Brassel in Chapter 6 “Women at the Crossroads: Life and Death for the Stoic Wife” offers a strategy for bridging the chasm between Stoic theory and the evidence of Stoic practice. Her focus is on the notion of mors voluntaria, acquiescence to death when life would be deprived of dignity, as articulated by Epictetus and Seneca. While (in contrast to Livy and Tacitus) the philosophers do not name historical women who chose death over degrading life, Seneca creates a mythical heroine who does so: Megara in Hercules Furens. Brassel’s comparison of Seneca’s treatment of Megara to Euripides’ reveals meaningful differences; in her confrontation with the tyrannical Lycus, Seneca’s heroine is more independent and more rational than Euripides’, her rationality more obviously outshining Hercules. In the end, Megara dies as Hercules’ victim, but this does not negate the Stoic nature of her heroic choice. Brassel concludes that this portrait of a fictitious heroine allows modern critics to recognize historical Stoic wives, such as Seneca’s wife Paulina, as philosophers in their own right.

The next two chapters offer readings of texts attributed to Pythagorean women. Rosemary Twomey in Chapter 7, “Pythagorean Women and the Domestic as a Philosophical Topic,” engages with Margaret Deslauriers’ view that texts on household matters attributed to Pythagorean women cannot count as philosophy. Twomey makes the case for their philosophical character. Since eudaimonia is one of the principal goals of ancient philosophy, and since life inside the household contributes to eudaimonia, this life is a philosophical subject. Further, texts by Perictione and Aesara (for example) use philosophical vocabulary, tackle philosophical topics (virtue, harmony, proper measure, pleasure, reasoning), and systematically offer evidence in support of their recommendations. These texts are inscribed in the Aristotelian tradition of political and social thought, which casts women in the role of the ruled. While feminist readers will find this asymmetry objectionable, it further demonstrates that the texts by Pythagorean women are embedded in a philosophical framework.

Giulia De Cesaris and Caterina Pellò in Chapter 8, “Perictione, Mother of Metaphysics: A New Philosophical Reading of On Wisdom,” offer a close reading of two fragments of a text that circulated under the name of Plato’s mother. They sidestep the unsolvable question of historical authorship and instead set out the fragments’ philosophical argument: (1) human beings have been created and exist for the purpose of understanding the rationale behind the nature of the entire universe; (2) wisdom is the means by which humans are able to reach this goal; (3) while individual sciences (e. g., geometry) are dedicated to “what happens to be” (ta symbebēkota), wisdom (sophia) integrates them and uncovers the overarching principles (archai). The treatise thus proposes an elegant tripartition of sciences: wisdom pertains to general principles, physics to nature, geometry, mathematics, and music pertains to numbers and proportions. The reading places in the limelight the efficacy and clarity of Perictione’s tripartite division and her innovative recognition of wisdom as a science that supersedes other disciplines.

While both chapters on Pythagorean women focus on the content of the writings, the next two chapters turn towards biographical material for insights into philosophical life. These are cases of well-attested women philosophers, working within the Platonic tradition, whose views are reported indirectly. Anna B. Christensen in Chapter 9, “Not Veiled in Silence: The Case for Macrina” argues that the sister of Gregory of Nyssa was a philosopher in her own right, even though Gregory is our only source for her life. Christensen first demonstrates that the persona of ‘Macrina’ in Letter 19, Vita Sanctae Macrinae, and De anima et resurrectione is well versed in classical philosophy (Epicureanism, Stoicism, Platonism) and Christian theology (the doctrine of the resurrection). The claim that the literary ‘Macrina’ is not merely a mouthpiece for Gregory’s views rests on circumstantial evidence. Gregory is consistent in portraying Macrina’s formidable personality: in the Vita, she boldly appropriates the status of a widow after the death of her fiancé and becomes a charismatic leader of a community of renunciants. In De anima, she is cast as the serene elder comforting her emotional younger brother. Gregory’s calls her his teacher, mother, and father (an influence of the Neoplatonist ideals discussed in Chapter 10). The lengthy deathbed conversation in De vita need not be realistic but, as Christensen contends, may well echo earlier conversations between the siblings. Gregory’s writings thus suggest that Macrina deserves a place in the history of early Christian thought.

In Chapter 10 “Women Philosophers and Ideals of Being a Woman in Neoplatonic Schools of Late Antiquity: The Examples of Sosipatra of Ephesus and Hypatia of Alexandria,” Jana Schultz brings together late Neoplatonist metaphysics and the biographies of two late Neoplatonist women, Sosipatra of Ephesus and Hypatia of Alexandria. To this end, Schultz extracts three models from the complex hierarchy of late Neoplatonist hypostases. The supreme entity combines in itself maleness and femaleness, while divine beings are predominantly male or predominantly female (all beings participate in both). Human beings look up to these three models, and the most gifted ones achieve the male-female equilibrium of the supreme being. Schultz argues that Eunapius portrays Sosipatra as reflecting this ideal. A mother and wife, who ran a philosophical school in her house, Sosipatra was both feminine and masculine. Testimonies to Hypatia’s life and teachings are more complex and do not neatly match Schultz’s schema. Hypatia was remembered both as a person to whom gender was unimportant (so Synesius) and a person assuming the conventionally male role of public teacher engaged in politics (so Damascius). Even though one of the two figures eludes classification, the juxtaposition of metaphysics and biography yields interesting insights into how contemporaries may have viewed late Neoplatonist women.

In order to continue with the Platonic tradition, I now depart from the sequence of chapters as presented in the volume and turn to Chapter 12, “The Reception of Plato on Women: Proclus, Averroes, Marinella.” In this chapter, Peter Adamson argues that premodern receptions of Plato address some of the twentieth-century criticisms of his discussions of women. Among the critical voices is Julia Annas, who argues that Plato should not be considered a feminist. As she contends, feminism demands equal rights, whereas Plato was concerned with optimizing everybody’s contributions to the political community. In response, Adamson points out that Proclus and Ibn Rushd (Averroes) read Plato as advocating for the metaphysical equality between men and women as well as for the realization of their full potential in the ideal city. Both philosophers thus viewed the arrangements of the Kallipolis as beneficial for women. Finally, the chapter turns to Lucrezia Marinella’s subversive argument that, based on Plato’s theory of the forms, women, being more beautiful and virtuous, are superior to men. Adamson suggests that the premodern readings of Plato are shaped by the authors’ familiarity with philosophically active women. This reflects, in his view, how the acknowledgment of women as intellectual authorities can fundamentally transform philosophy itself.

I have left Ann A. Pang-White’s Chapter 11, “Reapprizing Ban Zhao: The Advent of Chinese Women Philosophers,” to be discussed last because Ban Zhao is truly unique: a historical figure with several writings to her name. Pang-White mounts a defense against twentieth-century critics who dismissed Ban Zhao as an accomplice in patriarchal oppression. The Lessons for Women bows to Confucian conventions, such as limiting women to the inward and domestic sphere of nei, but also makes innovative points, such as appropriating for women the male ideal of ren and advocating forcefully for women’s education. Ban Zhao’s thought is also imprinted in other genres of writing: official memoranda and poetry. Addressed to an Emperor and an Empress, the memoranda not only demonstrate Ban Zhao’s consummate skill at argumentation, but also subvert the traditional restriction of women’s activities to the sphere of nei. The poems, for all their literary conventions, evoke images from Ban Zhao’s private life. For example, the Rhapsody on the Needle and Thread uses sewing as a metaphor for ordering the world, inviting the reader to envision the philosopher thinking over the needlework in her hand. Barring sensational new discoveries, this is probably as private an image of an ancient philosopher at work as modern readers can ever glimpse.

Thinking, Hannah Arendt observed, “is not a prerogative of the few but an ever-present faculty in everybody.” Political conditions that bar groups of people from the public space prompt thinkers to turn inward or leave no record. Arendt compared such thinking, plural and aporetic, to Penelope’s weaving, done during the day, undone at night. Arendt clearly conceived of culture as consisting of individual, authorial contributions. In contrast, the essays in Ancient Women Philosophers seem to be informed by an understanding of culture as a collective enterprise, a network of dialogic exchanges where agency is shared and ideas are not ‘owned’ by those who voice them. On this view, it is possible to retrieve from written sources not only authorial opinions but echoes of the kind of subaltern thinking that Arendt presumed to be irretrievably lost. Ideas by women thinkers surface in philosophical dialogues and pseudonymous texts, biographical accounts, letters, and literary fiction. The task of acknowledging them is complex, and the results are necessarily tentative. The volume succeeds, thanks to methodological flexibility and interpretive generosity, which, as O’Reilly reminds us, has long been accorded to early philosophers such as Thales. Informed by the network model of culture, the volume does not offer an overarching argument or a linear history. It brings to focus a set of cases that illuminate one another and collectively suggest that women have a place in the history of ancient philosophy. Like the prisoners in Plato’s cave, modern critics can access only shadows of ancient women thinkers. Yet, as this volume demonstrates, those shadows are not obstacles but opportunities to approach the beings that cast them.