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In this introduction, we first describe the contents of the Summa Logicae in some detail, situating the work in the larger context of medieval logical texts of the thirteen and fourteenth centuries and explaining why it occupies pride of place in Ockham’s philosophical project. Second, we argue that the Summa Logicae was most likely composed in Avignon between 1324 and 1328 contrary to the accepted view that Ockham wrote it in London over the summer of 1323. Third, we trace the legacy of the Summa Logicae from its first reception in Oxford and Paris in the 1330s, into the Parisian controversies of the 1330s and 1340s, and its dissemination further into Europe over the course of the next century or so. We end this history by noting the 1974 publication of the modern critical edition of the Summa Logicae, which was an enormously significant landmark in Ockham studies.
Inspired by the later medieval development in logic, especially theories on the properties of terms, Ockham’s modal logic is an innovative expansion of Aristotelian modal logic. Ockham’s treatment of modal logic is evolved systematically on the ground of the medieval distinction between two readings of modal propositions, that is, the reading in the divided and in the composite sense, which can be compared to the de re and de dicto reading in modern modal logic. The result is a comprehensive theory of propositional modal logic and syllogistics. In addition to Aristotle’s modal term logic, Ockham works out syntactic rules for inferences of modal sentences in the composite sense and offers a framework for propositional modal logic. In this chapter, I outline Ockham’s modal logic by describing the related texts, semantics for modalities, the linguistic and logical structure of modal sentences, their truth conditions, propositional modal logic, and modal syllogistics in Ockham.
This article revisits a long-abandoned position that, contrary to the developmentalist view, Aristotle’s lost dialogue, the Eudemus, argued for the immortality of intellect, not for the Platonic view of the immortality of the soul as a whole. It does so by providing evidence for the presence of Aristotle’s lost writings in the Church Fathers, a period often overlooked in the study of the reception of Aristotle’s lost writings. After discussing the debates in the secondary literature on Aristotle’s view of immortality in the Eudemus, it shows that Tertullian’s De anima 12 should be considered a fragment of the central argument for the immortality of intellect in Aristotle’s Eudemus. The conclusion is based not only on the fact that Tertullian’s summary of Aristotle’s view cannot be derived from any of Aristotle’s extant writings, but also on similar reports regarding the separability of intellect from soul found in Origen and Clement of Alexandria. The article thereby demonstrates the influence of Aristotle’s lost writings in the Patristic period and their importance as reporters of Aristotle’s lost works.
This article sketches an answer to the call for a normative foundation for the paradox perspective on corporate sustainability and also enriches an understanding of firm objectives that ought to be otherwise than profit by offering a rendering of Aristotelian virtue ethics—what I call the virtuous life of pleasure—that highlights how contemplative activity or theorein cultivates, and is essential to, virtue and eudaimonia. My claim is that the virtuous life of pleasure not only characterizes how to live the most meaningful and pleasant life, rendering it good and thus worth pursuing, but it is also, as a flourishing life, the normative foundation for safeguarding the intrinsic value of nonfinancial corporate aims, as the paradox perspective prescribes. It does so by establishing a principle of enough, which seeks to preserve integral, interdependent parts as ends in themselves and as constitutive of a larger ecosystem.
The recognition of the particular in law is crucial, and any good lawyer or judge should be able to correctly establish the potential instantiation of the abstract into the particular. This is the arduous task of the so-called ‘determination’. In his influential new book, Reciprocal Freedom, Ernest Weinrib elucidates the dynamic relationship of transforming the abstract into a determination. As is usual in his writings, Weinrib shows a perceptive, nuanced, and insightful position on the nature of private law. Nevertheless, I maintain that determination can only occur through the application of practical reason—a deliberative process that aligns with the valuable and the good, rather than solely focussing on the right and the dutiful. In grappling with Weinrib’s masterful work, I thus argue that the fundamental premise of his view is ‘the separation of rights and values’, and I aim to debunk this presupposition.
For Pierre Hadot, inventor of ‘Philosophy as a Way of Life’ (PWL), scholasticism, of which Aquinas is usually seen as the arch-representative, was not only the opposite of PWL but the agent of its destruction. I argue that Hadot’s view of Aquinas results from confusing ‘philosophy’ in the broad sense, which is how it needs to be understood in relation to PWL, with ‘philosophy’ in the narrower sense that it had for Aquinas himself. When Aquinas’s life and work is examined with this distinction in mind, he is seen to be as much an exponent of PWL as the medieval and modern thinkers (Boethius of Dacia, Dante, Montaigne, Kant, Nietzsche) usually cited by Hadot and his followers. This conclusion puts into doubt the historical narrative proposed by exponents of PWL. But some of Hadot’s own remarks leave room for a restricted version of PWL, stripped of its historical narrative and suggestions about the content of a philosophical life. This pure methodological Philosophy as a Way of Life, MPWL, does not make the unsustainable claims of PWL and helps to show how analytical, historical and more broadly philosophical approaches to Aquinas can be brought together.
This chapter examines the sort of happiness Aquinas thinks we can have on earth without any special divine help, namely, natural imperfect happiness. After establishing the varieties of natural imperfect happiness Aquinas accepts, it argues that, according to Aquinas, happiness is constituted exclusively by engaging in and enjoying those genuinely good activities that are made possible through the purely natural development of one’s powers. This is the Enjoying Good Activities Reading as applied to ordinary earthly happiness. The chapter then explains the various roles that everyday goods play in happiness so understood. Because of the role those goods play, it turns out that this sort of happiness is somewhat fragile. After giving an account of just how fragile it is, the chapter ends by considering Aquinas’s understanding of degrees of natural imperfect happiness.
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.
While there is an enormous literature on friendship, next to nothing has been written about enemyship. This neglect may be due to the assumption that enemyship is simply inverted friendship. We reject that assumption and argue that although enemyship shares some important structural relations with friendship (such as dispositions to act and the presence of significant interactions), there are crucial differences. Unlike friendship, enemyship does not require reciprocity, mutual acknowledgment, or equality in any degree. If we are right, enemyship is a sui generis category of human relationship, in need of further exploration. To that end, we offer a conceptual analysis and taxonomy of enemies before turning to two normative questions: is there anything intrinsically good about having an enemy? Would a good person ever have enemies, of any kind?
The question explored in this chapter is this: Is there a foothold, or even a toehold, in Stoic and Kantian texts that gives us purchase for developing an account of moral anger? I answer “yes,” although the positive argument in both Stoic and Kantian texts is not obvious. In the Stoic tradition, the overall normative demand is modeled on the character and conduct of a good and wise person, that is, the sage. Can the Stoic sage feel moral anger as part of how full virtue is expressed? The Stoic sage is typically modeled on concrete historical examples that display a fuller gamut of emotions than is often acknowledged. Moral anger and vicarious distress are, I argue, Stoic “good emotions” compatible with the rational desires and emotions characteristic of full virtue. Despite Kant’s Stoicizing tendencies at various junctures, he leaves room for moral anger as a way we express our duties of sympathy and become aware of the constraints of the moral law.
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.