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How did the Peloponnesian War change the way in which spaces were arranged and experienced, and how did the pre-existing spaces and spatial imagination of communities play a role in the type of war that was fought? Athens provides a lens through which to see wider changes: the Propylaia was left visibly unfinished to mark the outbreak of war, the temple of Athena Nike exaggerated Athenian infantry competence, and the Long Walls reshaped interstate relationships at the same time as redefining Athenian social experience. They allowed for the evacuation of the Athenian countryside, and the housing of thousands of refugees for long periods of the war. This synoikism was paralleled elsewhere during the war in Thebes, Olynthos and Rhodes with significant and long-lasting effects. The accounts of the variety of ways in which the war tested and frayed the political fabric of Athens make us aware of how communities’ experiences of their own spaces could be transformed by the pressures of war, for instance in the terror of frequent night-time attacks. Finally, the Aigospotamoi monument at Delphi gives a contemporary perspective on the moment of victory and speaks articulately across spatial aspects of the Peloponnesian War as a whole.
The pressure of war often drives change. This was no less true of the Peloponnesian War in its effect on constitutional thinking at the end of the fifth century. While Thucydides in his analysis of the Peloponnesian War suggests that it was differences between constitutional types that lay behind the conflict (democracy versus oligarchy), it was in fact the war that clarified these differences. Thus it was that ideas around democracy became more clearly defined. However, it was thinking about oligarchy which experienced the most radical changes. Earlier in the fifth century, oligarchy had been recognised as a constitutional form but had been fairly loosely defined. By the end of the war, however, some Athenians in particular, who wanted to effect regime change, played with ideas of oligarchy in a fairly imprecise way based on number, wealth or class. Initially, this lack of clarity worked in the favour of the reformers, but eventually it led to the downfall of both the oligarchies of 411 and 404/3. Nevertheless it was the war itself which ultimately forced the conceptual opposition between oligarchy and democracy, which Thucydides was then able to write retrospectively into his analysis of the Peloponnesian War.
This two-volume study explores the life of the Muslim scholar Ibn A?tham al-Kufi and his historical work, the Kitab al-futu? (Book of Conquests). This study re-contextualises Ibn A?tham within the early fourth/tenth century, highlighting his contributions to Islamic historiography.
Volume 2 (eISBN: 9783959941921) presents a new critical edition of the work's opening sections, focusing on the saqifa and ridda narratives, based on manuscripts kept at Forschungsbibliothek Gotha (Germany) and Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library in Patna (India).
Since the 1970s progressively more translators, in several European languages, have abandoned the traditional translation of ὁ βουλϵύσας at Physics 194b30 as ‘the adviser’ for a different one: ‘the deliberator’. The latter translation has never been defended, and is, as this article will argue, indefensible—the active of βουλϵύω is never used in classical prose in this sense. Furthermore, this translation obscures what may be a philosophically significant feature of the passage: the fact that all of the other examples of efficient causes Aristotle gives here, in what is his canonical account of the four causes, are cases where what causes something to move is distinct from the thing it causes to move (the father causes the child’s gestation, the builder causes the lumber’s turning into a house). An Aristotelian deliberator, on the other hand, while arguably an efficient cause, is the cause of their very own action. At least one ancient commentator, Simplicius, thought that Aristotle had good reasons to restrict his examples to causes distinct from what they set in motion. Both the traditional translation and the variant of it for which I shall argue, ‘the one who made the proposal’, fit this model.