This chapter, the first of two devoted to Julian’s Against the Galileans, begins by mapping the narrative structure of Julian’s text. It then traces Julian’s first major step in re-narrating the Christian tradition: casting the ancient Hebrew tradition as existing harmoniously within the broad contours of the Hellenic tradition. Focusing on Moses’s teachings about the creation of the cosmos and about its governance by a hierarchy of gods, Julian shows that the Hebrew tradition, though not terribly impressive, has teachings compatible with Julian’s Hellenic tradition

Chapters 5 and 6 focus on clusters of re-narrated episodes in Cyril’s response to Julian. Chapter 5 is organized by one of Julian’s own categories: the “gifts of the gods” which, he had argued, were given in surpassing quality and quantity to the Hellenic people. This chapter groups Julian’s various iterations of gifts and Cyril’s sprawling responses in three, interrelated categories: exemplary characters, intellectual superiority, and military and political domination. In Cyril’s responses, Minos was no legendary hero but rather imitated the fallen angels’ lust for domination; the Attic language itself (not to mention the convention of writing) derived from proto-Christian sources; and the Jewish people’s turbulent history and the present ascendance of Roman superiority equally reflect the Christian God’s management of the cosmos.

The human being is freely ‘self-determined’ rather than determined through some external authority (whether theological or teleological). This dichotomy conveniently expresses the usual understanding of modern political thought’s divergence from preceding tradition. By comparison, pre-modernity is teleological, anthropomorphic, realist; in a word, naïve – with its substantively rational nature, dictating essential ends to which we are subject. These received truths are past due for a re-examination. Just how naïve or dogmatic was the Greek understanding of freedom and nature? In this chapter, I argue that Plato’s view of man as naturally political is more complex and multivalent than our historical categorizations allow. Nevertheless, there is a sense in which, for him, politics does indeed depend upon a natural model. That model, however, is the Idea of the Good. And here, where Plato seems furthest from us, lies his greatest challenge to contemporary understandings of nature and freedom.

This chapter analyzes the Republic’s theory of the tripartite soul regarding the question of self-rule and autonomy. Only when the soul is in the ideal position of having reason positioned as sovereign ruler can a person be seen as acting autonomously. But it is not clear that when reason rules, it also motivates actions. Christine M. Korsgaard has argued that personal decision-making should be seen as analogous to political decision-making. She conceives of political decisions as a process where requests for action spring from the people, while rulers suffice to say yes or no. This chapter claims that this analysis is inadequate as a theory of how Plato portrays the relationship between the parts of the soul and of decision-making in general, and offers an alterantive interpreation in terms of what is called the Complex Model of Decision-Making.

This chapters argues that Plato’s notion of personal autonomy is closely linked to his understanding of the social dimension of rational deliberation. It begins with an assessment of Miranda Fricker’s influential account of epistemic authority and social power and raises some objections against the discursive notion of reason she develops. To substantiate these objections, it turns to Plato’s Cratylus and to Socrates’ analysis of logos as a language mediated form of rational deliberation. It argues that while Socrates suggests that the constitutive parts of language, the names (ta onomata), are ambivalent and deceptive, leaving discursive reason in doubt, Plato, at the same time, shows that it nevertheless can function to identify unwarranted claims of epistemic authority, as a form of codependent philosophical conversation. From this emerges a notion of Platonic autonomy closely tied to Plato’s analysis of the social dimension of rational deliberation and its embodiment in the Platonic dialogue.

It is natural to see in the Republic’s concern with self-mastery a Platonic account of autonomy. But Plato’s understanding of self-rule in the Republic has more to do with cognition, and rather less to do with independent agency. Indeed, in the ethically motivated epistemology of the Republic, it is aiming at ideal knowledge that transforms one ethically and engenders many of the features centrally associated with the notion of ‘autonomy’. Being able to explain reality independently makes one independent of the illusions and confusions caused by pleasure, pains, and public pressures, and even restructures the desires, pleasures and other affects liable to arise. Moreover, the ability to give accounts is what makes us accountable to one another for our cognitive condition — and for the judgements, feelings and actions based on this.

Chapter Five was devoted to the metaphysics that underpins the Stoic theories of everlasting recurrence. The present chapter focusses on three of these theories in some detail. At least two of them, as I explain in section 6, are early Stoic. As we shall see, one is stronger than the other two, and the two weaker theories are revisions of it. A central component of this chapter is the thesis of Identity, according to which there must be a full type-identity between the events of any two cosmic cycles. Why should this thesis be true? Why could not the events be slightly, or even completely, different? Thus, sections 1 and 2 describe the three theories and how exactly they differ from one another. In sections 3 and 4 are devoted to the argument for Identity. The argument is based on the nature of the Stoic god. It is his full rationality that requires that the token-events of each new cosmos be fully type identical to those of the previous one. I close the chapter in Sections 5-6 with a discussion of the two weaker theories. What are their philosophical motivations? And in what order did they emerge in the history of Stoicism?

By way of conclusion, this chapter deals with two issues that are deeply connected to the argument of the book but that I shall leave open. The first one is Chrysippus’ own answer to question of why the Stoic god would want the conflagration if the new cosmos is identical to the old one and no improvement is possible. The second issue is when the Stoic god designs the cosmos if the series of cosmic cycle is beginningless and changeless. This second issue is related to the larger topic of cosmic creation and the link between the Stoic and the Christian god. Thus, it is of more general interest and may help to put the argument of the book in a wider historical perspective.

The chapter studies this mechanism in detail and focusses on the following questions. First, what are these ‘exhalations’ (ἀναθυμιάσεις) and why do they rise up in the sky? Secondly, why does the desiccation of the sublunary region cause celestial fire to descend to this region? More particularly, why does not celestial fire consume the sublunary region before it totally dries out, as an ordinary wildfire would consume a forest that is still relatively green and full of life? Thirdly, how does celestial fire consume the exhalations and the substances that it finds in the sublunary region? And, more generally, how do the Stoics conceive of the physical process by which a mass of fire consumes another body? In other words, how do they envision the phenomenon of combustion? Fourthly, what is the place of the concept of combustion in their elemental theory? And, finally, how long does the conflagration last?

The early Stoic cosmos is sharply different from that of Plato and Aristotle. But it is also unique compared to that of the Presocratics. In this chapter, I seek to prove that this is so by concentrating upon the Stoic theory of conflagration we just examined. The issue requires an in-depth discussion because Stoic cosmology owes enormously to the Presocratics, and the theory of conflagration is clearly the part of Stoic cosmology that has deeper roots in these early thinkers, much more so than the theories of cosmogony and everlasting recurrence

The conflagration is followed by a cosmony that restores the cosmos. In fact, a permanent end would be impossible given the rationality of the early Stoic god. In this chapter, I limit myself to asking what is the structure of the cosmogony. How, exactly, is the large mass of fire left by the conflagration transformed in the cosmogony into the differentiated masses of air, fire, water and earth that constitute the present cosmos? I shall argue that the cosmogony, which sets off as soon as the conflagration is over, divides into at least three basic stages: (a) the formation of the four elements and of the sublunary and supralunary regions as two differentiated parts of the cosmos, (b) the formation of composite homogeneous substances (gold, flesh, wood, etc.) out of the four elements; and (c) the formation of composite heterogeneous substances (animals and plants) out of homogeneous ones.

This chapter and the next build upon the previous chapters by addressing a vital question that they leave open. What is the relation between the cosmos issued from the cosmogony and the cosmos previously destroyed at the conflagration? Is it the same cosmos? Or is it different? The issue of identity drove a great deal of dispute within the school. In fact, as I explain in Chapter Six, there were three clearly different Stoic theories of everlasting recurrence that opposed one another on this question. In the present chapter, I concentrate upon two broader and more basic metaphysical problems presupposed in the dispute over identity. The two problems, concisely put, are the following. (a) Why is the present cosmos present as opposed to past or future? In general, how is the present distinct from the past and the future? (b) Supposing that the present cosmos is type-identical to the previous one and the next how can they really occupy different places in time? And how can the times themselves be distinct if the events are type-identical?

In this introduction, I start with a brief description of the structure of the Stoic cosmos that explains how it differs from other cosmic systems in Antiquity. I then describe the main goal of the book and some of the general methodological principles that I follow. Finally, I offer a synopsis of the argument that unifies it.

This chapter brings together the theory of conflagration and the theories of everlasting recurrence that embrace Identity, and draws a paradox from their combination: the ‘paradox of destruction and restoration’. If the new cosmos is wholly type-identical to the old one, would it not be more rational for the Stoic god not to destroy the latter in the first place? The idea of a conflagration followed by the restoration of a type-identical cosmos seems to threaten the rationality of the Stoic god. In this chapter, I explain how, on my view, the Stoic god is immune to this objection.

To present some of the basic notions that will be used throughout the book, this chapter offers an analysis of the Stoic cosmos that complements the brief description given in the Introduction. I start by looking at its internal structure and composition, the distinction between the sublunary and the supralunary regions, the way in which they interact with each other, and the distribution of the four elements in the sublunary region and their reciprocal change. Subsequently, I discuss the place of god in the cosmos and, in particular, the pantheistic idea that god is one of the two basic cosmic principles as well as the thesis that the cosmos is a living being whose ‘seminal reason’ (σπερματικὸς λόγος) is god. Finally, I present ‘theological determinism’, the deterministic conception of the cosmos that the early Stoics advocate and that is prevalent in their theory of everlasting recurrence.

The chapter outlines the long history of the maker’s knowledge tradition from Hippocrates to Vico. It explores five specific paradigmatic moments during which the fundamental intertwinement between making and knowing was problematised. First, it addresses the Hippocratic cogitations on the nature of knowledge as a practical and theoretical activity. Second, it engages with Plato and Aristotle’s desperate attempts to purify episteme from any practical concerns. Third, it follows the transformation of the concept of episteme in the post-Aristotelian debates on the so-called stochastic arts. Fourth, it explores how the very concept of ‘knowledge by making and doing’ is gradually concocted in the Middle Ages and Renaissance. Finally, it shows how the idea of knowing by making is gradually integrated into the epistemology of modern science and history since Giordano Bruno.

This first chapter in the series of three turns to one – if not the – foundational Islamic philosopher, al-Fārābī, and his use and conception of fiṭra. His engagement is marked by an interest in logic and politics and would influence the philosophical engagements with fiṭra for generations. More specifically, the author shows how al-Fārābī invokes fiṭra to convey fundamental insights about human nature and society learned from his engagement with Greek philosophy, including his adaptations of Aristotle’s logic and Plato’s political vision, to an Arabic-speaking and potentially Islamic audience. By using fiṭra, rather than ‘nature’ or physis (ṭabʿ and/or ṭabīʿā ) at certain points, al-Fārābī is able to keep an implied connection to the creator God. Fiṭra, then, was not only a convenient term for communicating ideas about virtue, logic, and politics drawn from Greek thought to Arabic-speaking audiences; al-Fārābī’s use of the term also points to what might be “Islamic” about his apparently “Greek” philosophy.