The later Stoics, especially – and most notably – Posidonius of Apamea, allegedly the greatest polymath of his age and the last in a celebrated line of great philosophers of the ancient world, gradually developed the belief that all parts of the universe, either ensouled or not, were actually interconnected due to the omnipresent, corporeal, primordial kosmikon pyr which, according to Stoicism, pervades each being as the honey pervades the honeycomb. As for reasonable beings, in particular, kosmikon pyr takes the (...) form of logos. Due to that power, Posidonius believes, the phases of moon, for instance, can affect the succession of tides and ebb–tides; on the same grounds, the signs can have major effect on the course of events and, therefore, allow for divination. That kind of interconnectedness, apart from justifying the interdependentness of all beings to each other, testifies for an utter kinship between them, for sympatheia. In this short paper I intent to show that Posidonius’s approach has been promptly adopted and utilized by modern holistic theories concerning Environmental Ethics, especially by Arne Naess’s Deep Ecology and Ecosophy T, in the context of which notions such as kinship, interconnectedness, interdependentness and identification of all beings are key parameters for the articulation of their argumentation. I also intent to outline some essential – in my opinion – differences in the way Posidonius and Naess make use of the notion of interconnectedness, together with some inconsistencies which can be potentially fatal, at least as far as a system of ethics is concerned. This is because notions such as cosmic sympathy may possibly establish an interesting, even charming and influential cosmology or metaphysics, but when it comes to ethics, in my opinion, they can only provide shaky grounds for establishing a firm one, since they allow for deterministic views, which more or less leave no room for personal responsibility, to wit for personal praise or blame. (shrink)

In Against the Musicologists (Math. 6), Sextus uses two types of arguments against musicology. Some would argue that a science of music – does not contribute to a happy life, while others deny that such a science has ever been established. Since the respective beliefs that musicology exists and that it benefits those who have mastered it are fine specimens of dogmatism, all Sextus has to do is to set the naysayers and the believers against each other in good Pyrrhonian (...) fashion. If their accounts balance each other out, he can go on to suggest that reasonable inquirers will suspend judgement as to the truth about these matters, while leaving everyday musical practice intact. Against the Musicologists thus lends itself to being read as an attempt to display the Sceptical capacity to motivate suspension of judgement in a specific domain where the Sceptic has detected dogmatic belief. -/- In what follows, I develop a reading of the treatise along these lines. In Section 5.1, I argue that Sextus’ polemical engagement with philosophical musicology sits well with the project of the treatise to which it belongs, and with a plausible understanding of his philosophical position as presented in the Outlines of Pyrrhonism (Pyr.). Then I turn to the two kinds of arguments that are contrasted by Sextus as being ‘more dogmatic’ and ‘more aporetic’ in spirit. After their brief presentation in Section 5.2, explaining the nature of their contrast by pointing to the diverging agendas that they originally served, I give an overview of both as ultimately aiming at epochē in Sections 5.3 and 5.4. Finally, in Section 5.5, I push back against readings that take the treatise to present a deviation from the suspensive outlook. (shrink)

L’importance d’une édition des témoignages d’Énésidème s’impose de toute évidence pour tous ceux qui s’occupent du scepticisme grec. Le problème est bien connu : le pyrrhonisme constitue un des mouvements philosophiques les plus intéressants de l’Antiquité et son influence a traversé les siècles jusqu’aujourd’hui. Mais qu’est-ce que le pyrrhonisme, quels sont ses origines et son développement? Nous sommes informés sur les deux extrêmes de cette histoire, Pyrrhon et Sextus Empiricus. Mais Pyr...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Daemonic Figures: Shakespeare and the Question of ConscienceEric SpencerDaemonic Figures: Shakespeare and the Question of Conscience, by Ned Lukacher; x & 228 pp. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994, $37.50 cloth, $15.95 paper.Daemonic Figures is a specialist’s book twice over. Profiting from it requires not only considerable familiarity with Heidegger, but also unquestioning acceptance of the rhetorical conventions and critical methods of contemporary theory. Lukacher uses these conventions and (...) methods to argue that conscience, properly understood, poses uncomfortable questions about the origins of self-knowledge, and leads to a mysterious but presumably enriching encounter with the limits of our certainty. Shakespeare enters the argument as the supreme example of a poet who discovers, through sensitivity to the ambiguities of language, how to peer without flinching into the Heideggerian abyss. Although the book relies too heavily on Heidegger’s unforgiving idiom, and pauses too seldom to justify suggestive but tenuous claims, at its heart lie hard, interesting questions about what having a conscience means.Lukacher wishes to restore to the idea of conscience all its paradoxical force. As a silent inner voice carrying a moral imperative from elsewhere, conscience immediately suggests an internally divided self. And although, according to Lukacher, Christian tradition locates the source of the imperative in God, and classical tradition in natural law, conscience remains irreducibly “uncanny,” because “the most intimate site of human habitation [i.e., the self] is also the strangest of places, for it is there that the (unfamiliar) god comes to presence through the language of moral judgment that tells us that we are and that because we are what we are we should act thus” (p. 7). For Lukacher, then, the question of conscience is the question of being, a question without an answer because it involves the unthinkable idea of something prior to and beyond being. The book argues that whatever speaks to us under the name of conscience must be both within and without any categories we have to explain it.Hence “daemonic figures”: drawing on the Greek notion of a realm of daimones dwelling between the human and divine worlds, Lukacher claims that the “daemon is the cipher, the name, and the figure for the incontrovertible [End Page 240] ghostliness, the familiar strangeness, that dwells between the perceptions and reflections of consciousness and the enigmatic ground of Being itself” (p. 2), or “the medium in which we come to ourselves as precisely that which is divided from itself... from the outset” (p. 6). And because, in Lukacher’s scheme, language articulates this daemonic mediation, we must seek in literary works which explore conscience—like Hamlet and Macbeth—traces of uncanniness welling up through ostensibly coherent words. Literary value accordingly involves “giving us the words with which to bring that enigmatic lack to presence” (p. 92). Simultaneously ubiquitous and inscrutable, conscience both calls to and evades us, and literature makes its home in such paradoxical territory.It follows that Lukacher seeks in texts brief flashes of something else in the midst of what’s apparently going on, a procedure which constantly risks arbitrary idiosyncrasy. For instance, in his chapter on Hamlet, Lukacher notes that the Player’s description of Priam’s death includes a line—“and with a hideous crash / Takes prisoner Pyrrhus’ ear”—whose sequence of sounds produces a ghostly authorial signature: sh... akes... Pyr... ear. And because this “countersignature” appears fragmented, in a context of hesitation, destruction and decline, Lukacher claims it creates an allegory of the “nonrelation at the heart of self-revelation” (p. 135). That is, it (and the larger drama of Hamlet’s revenge to which it obliquely gestures) reveals that at the heart of authorship, of authorized speech, of the moral law of conscience, lies “the silent play of the letter” (p. 135), the “daemonic figure” of dissolution in the midst of self-assertion, which unsettles all authorization. Hence Hamlet’s famous difficulties—he hears the whisper of Otherness in what ought to be a straightforward moral imperative to vengeance.Lukacher justifies this procedure by noting that “Derrida’s writing, no less than that of Heidegger [and presumably Shakespeare], relies on the invention of figures and metaphors through which... (shrink)