In Tusculans 2 the interlocutors discuss the value of physical pain. They swiftly agree that it is not the greatest evil but take longer to consider whether it is bad or, as the Stoics think, merely indifferent. Enduring pain is taken to be an indication of courage and manliness (virtus) and this is undermined by the claim that physical pain is not bad. Therefore neither the Epicureans nor the Stoics provide a wholly satisfactory account of the value of physical pain and its relationship to virtue.

This chapter focuses on Cicero’s treatment of the emotions in Books 3 and 4, and more specifically on his account of the dispute between the Stoics and the Peripatetics. At first sight, the dispute seems uncomplicated: the Stoics advocate the complete absence of emotions whereas the Peripatetics hold that emotions should rather be moderated or controlled. But Cicero’s stress on the idea that emotions are beliefs seems to come at the expense of other central parts of the theory of emotions, most prominently the theory of action.  I argue that these features of his presentation serve him in securing a thesis that he is keen to defend in Book 5: that virtue guarantees happiness and that this happiness is invulnerable to the accidents of fortune.

Leibniz is the genuine initiator of German Idealism, developing ideas of freedom as spontaneity or self-originating action, and linking freedom with justice and progress in ways that are decisive for Kant and later idealists. Rethinking spontaneity as negative freedom, Kant criticises the paternalistic perfectionism and Enlightened absolutism of Christian Wolff, a distinct development from Leibniz, but opens the way for a new perfectionism of freedom. The origins of perfectionism in Aristotle and the Stoics are surveyed, and the various formulations of post-Kantian perfectionism from Humboldt to Marx are outlined.

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.

In ‘The Stoics on Conceptions and Concepts’, Katerina Ierodiakonou offers an account of the Stoics’ distinction between ennoiai and ennoēmata (‘conceptions’ and ‘concepts’), and also of the distinctions suggested by the standard Stoic terminology of concepts also mentioned above: notably, prolēpseis (‘preconceptions’), phusikai ennoiai (‘natural conceptions’), and koinai ennoiai (‘common conceptions’). All these terms appear intended to point to general notions that play a central role in the acquisition of human knowledge, but it remains puzzling how exactly the Stoics understood them or why they introduced them into their doctrine in the first place. Ierodiakonou addresses these issues, as well as further questions debated in the secondary literature. These include whether all human beings necessarily possess concepts or just have the ability to possess them, what is the content of conceptions and how it is determined, what is the ontological status of conceptions and concepts, and what are their epistemological functions.

The chapter ‘Alexander of Aphrodisias on Concepts’ by Frans A. J. de Haas takes up another aspect of concept theory, that is, the endeavour to define what a concept is. Furthermore, he explores the interactions between the Peripatetics and the Stoics, as they are evidenced by Alexander, on ontological as well as psychological and epistemological issues. De Haas also offers a systematic study of part of Alexander’s rich vocabulary denoting concepts, thoughts, and universals, and of a correspondingly rich collection of verbs referring to the human activities of abstracting or constructing concepts. Importantly, this analysis sheds light on Alexander’s understanding of ennoia and noêma, and on Alexander’s views concerning the epistemic reliability of concepts and the unity of concepts in the human soul.

Matthew Duncombe’s chapter ‘Relative Concepts’ asks: what are relative concepts according to ancient philosophers? Duncombe argues that Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoics have a clear concept of relatives, distinct from incompleteness approaches, which he calls ‘constitutive relativity’. The core idea of constitutive relativity is that a relative is constituted precisely by the relation it bears to an exclusive correlative. Duncombe discusses particular philosophers and schools in detail. The examination of Agathon’s speech in Plato’s Symposium illustrates that Socrates understands relative concepts in general and love in particular, on the constitutive model. Aristotle’s concept of relatives in Categories 7 draws on Plato, but Aristotle addresses a worry that relative concepts might be vacuous. Duncombe argues that a Stoic relative concept is the concept of a relative that relates exclusively to a correlative. He examines Sextus’ sceptical argument, which raises a worry about any conception of relativity where relatives relate exclusively to their correlatives.

Plutarch is well known as a generally even-tempered expositor of the great tapestry of Greek history, literature, and philosophy, and a benign counselor on questions of ethical conduct and social mores, but there is another side to him, that of the accomplished polemicist, primarily in the area of philosophy, but also concerning his predecessors in the craft of history, and on occasion the poets as well. In all of Plutarch’s polemics, we can discern common threads. While historians (especially Herodotus) and poets are criticized primarily for their flawed socioethical views, the Stoics, Epicureans, and even Plutarch’s predecessors in the Platonic tradition have the inconsistencies in their positions relentlessly skewered, and the most absurd consequences of their misguided arguments teased out. This essay surveys a selection of Plutarch’s critiques of previous historians, then casts a brief glance at his censure of the poets, before turning to an examination of his polemics against rival philosophical schools, and lastly rival views within the Platonist tradition.

The Stoics break with Plato and Aristotle, who envisaged the value that makes a life worth living as a degree or part of the value that makes a life happy. Instead, they establish two separate axiological scales, one that determines whether a life is happy, and another one that determines whether it is worth living. The former contains virtue and vice, or what is good and bad, whereas the latter is defined by the so-called preferred and dispreferred indifferents, such as health, wealth or renown. This allows for the possibility that a virtuous and happy person sometimes ought to depart from life, when they do not have a prospect of a life worth living, while a vicious and unhappy person ought to stay alive, when they have such a prospect. This decoupling of the happy life from the worthwhile life is consistent with the Stoic view that life itself is a preferred indifferent, and hence the deliberations about staying alive should be referred to other preferred indifferents rather than to virtue and vice.

The chapter deals with Galen’s attack on the pulse-classification of the first-century CE Pneumatist doctor Archigenes, and examines Galen’s reasons for replacing Archigenes’ theory with his own. Galen claims that Archigenes has no idea of the proper method of determining the real species of pulse, and he castigates him for terminological failings as well. But it turns out on close analysis that Archigenes’ actual classification is very close to Galen’s own; and the terminological cavils seem fairly trivial and pedantic. So what is the real substance of Galen’s attack? The chapter suggests that the point at issue is partly simply a matter of professional rivalry, but partly also a consequence of Galen’s insistence on adhering to the properly philosophical method of conducting divisions.