In this chapter, I show how the contemplative ethics of Neoplatonism repurposes classical and Hellenistic ethics, advancing a new distinction between practical and theoretical wisdom. The classical and Hellenistic contrast between the bios praktikos and its attendant virtue phronesis, and the bios theoretikos together with its attendant virtue sophia, informs a half millennium or more of ethical thinking. In the discourse surrounding the competing value of these ethical registers, the practical life and the contemplative life, both ancient philosophers and their modern exegetes approach the theoretical life with trepidation, as if a certain amount of apology is owed for the practical limits of contemplative ethics. But such anxiety as to how the life of theoria can be valorised from the point of view of ordinary virtue is out of place when it comes to understanding the ethics of Plotinus and of Porphyry, at least in the Enneads and in the Sententiae. There is an important place for the practical life, if by practical we understand the development of the capacity for contemplation. As such, the practical side of this ethics is a form of mind training ,or even an ethics of concentration. Its complement, wisdom, theoretical virtue, or sophia, consists in insight, or knowledge of the nature of the real, together with realisation of the true self of the practitioner.

This paper focuses on Porphyry’s account of the just treatment of non-human animals in his treatise On Abstinence from Killing Animals. In responding to the Stoic argument that justice extends only to rational beings and leaves out non-rational animals, Porphyry introduces a number of considerations to show that animals are not entirely deprived of reason. It is usually assumed that Porphyry thereby commits himself to the view that animals are rational, thus breaking from the tradition of treating rationality as distinctive of humans. This assumption has been recently challenged by G. Fay Edwards, who argues that Porphyry neither believes that animals are rational nor that justice extends only to rational beings, but that he is merely trying to trap the Stoics into admitting that animals are rational and for this reason recipients of justice. I will argue that Porphyry ascribes rationality to animals, although he does not think that this is the reason for treating them justly. Central to my interpretation is Porphyry’s claim that rationality admits of degrees, which allows him to ascribe to animals a certain level of rationality without compromising his Platonic ideals.

The Greek commentary tradition devoted to explicating Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics was extensive; it began in antiquity with Aspasius’ commentaries on selected books of the EN and reached a stage of immense sophistication in the twelfth century with the works of Eustratius of Nicaea and Michael of Ephesus, which served primarily educational purposes. The use of Aristotle’s ethics in the classroom continued in the late Byzantine period as well, but until recently scholastic use of the EN was known mostly through George Pachymeres’ compendium of Book 11 of his Philosophia. I am currently editing the last surviving exegetical commentary on the EN in the strict sense of the term, also penned by George Pachymeres, which represents a new witness to the resurgence of Aristotelian studies in late Byzantium. It also improves our knowledge of Pachymeres’ role as a teacher in the context of higher education, and of the use of ethics as a practical discipline. The discussion also takes into account the religious underpinnings of Pachymeres’ moralism, pointing to the way pagan ethics in late Byzantium are rendered relevant to their Christian readership.

This chapter examines the extent to which Eustratius of Nicaea is indebted to the ancient commentary tradition and at the same time how he departed from the earlier model in order to answer contemporary questions about meaning, some of which had a bearing on morality and ethics. In doing so, the chapter considers in detail Eustratius’ hermeneutics and textual approach, its dependence upon the ancient model and the novelties in his approach to Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics. It argues that Eustratius contributed fundamentally to the formation of a specifically Byzantine commentary tradition by sometimes criticising Aristotle or introducing some motifs that were unrelated to Aristotle’s moral philosophy. Finally, this chapter also investigates the historical circumstances of Eustratius’ career as a commentator and highlights how Eustratius’ literary and philosophical production reflects his patron Anna Comnena as a learned woman who devoted the second part of her life to moral philosophy.

This chapter focuses on ethical training in Byzantium by examining texts from the tenth to twelfth centuries, including Theophanes Continuatus and works by Peter of Argos, Theodore of Nicaea, John Tzetzes and Constantine Manasses, while briefly discussing connections to works on ethical practice by Plutarch and Athanasius of Alexandria. Studies of hymnography, elite rhetoric and gender have displayed the central role of imitating past models in the cultivation of ethical habits and construction of the self in Byzantium. People in the Byzantine period both refined and displayed their character by patterning their emotions and responses on ancient and biblical models. Numerous historical texts presented classical figures as ethical examples to a medieval audience primed to shun or imitate those behaviours. The elite rhetorical habit of likening subjects to great characters of classical antiquity is explored in this chapter as but one aspect of a larger set of cultural practices that aimed at learning ethical behaviour through the imitation of valorised models.

This chapter seeks to locate and elucidate the philosophical precedents and mechanisms in late-antique and Byzantine Christian thought that inform the tension between the rigorous affirmation of autonomous moral determination, on the one hand, and the self-effacing quality of ecclesiastical and monastic life, on the other. Though expressed with some variance and terminological inconsistency, the majority of Christian writers affirm some version of 'free will' and universally attribute the capacity for moral development to all humankind, developing and altering paradigms from the mélange of philosophical concepts present in Middle- and Neoplatonism. No less prominent, however, is the assertion—both tacitly and explicitly—that private moral judgment and individual conscience are unreliable. Each human being not only requires a pedagogical process for proper moral development but also depends upon the presence and guidance of a heteronomous 'other', whether human or divine. This chapter will accordingly seek to demonstrate that, while Christians of late antiquity and Byzantium considered free will and moral determination to be an inextricable aspect of moral psychology, they did not have the same understanding of autonomy that emerged so forcefully during the Enlightenment and in its wake.

This chapter sets out to explore the thesis that Plato, at least in his later years, in his efforts to identify the nature of his First Principle, was inclined to settle on the concept of a rational World Soul, with demiurgic functions, and that this was a doctrine that his faithful amanuensis in his last years, Philip of Opus, advanced on his own account, in the belief that in this he was developing the latest theories of his Master.

Nature for Plotinus is near the limit of intelligibility in the hierarchical universe. It is the lowest part of the soul of the cosmos. Hence, all problems in cosmology and biology, prior to their solution, need to be situated within the framework of the ultimate metaphysical explanatory principles of the One, Intellect and Soul. This chapter explores the sense in which Plotinus is and is not receptive of panpsychism, the contemporary philosophical view according to which mentality or consciousness is ubiquitous in the world. Plotinus argues for the idea that nature contemplates which seems, perhaps surprisingly, compatible with the radically anti-Platonic naturalism of panpsychists.

In this chapter, I focus on three different topics to illustrate the complicated and often surprising ways in which Aristotle’s investigations of animals and of the heavens are related to one another. After an introductory discussion of how Aristotle differentiates these different scientific investigations of nature from one another, this chapter looks at (1) the dependence of Aristotle’s account of cosmic directionality (in De caelo II.4) on his discussion of directional concepts in his account of animal locomotion (De incessu animalium 1-6); (2) the relationship between his account of gestation periods in De generatione animalium IV.10 and his understanding of the complex relationship between the solar and lunar cycles; and (3) his teleological explanation of why there are distinct male and female contributors to animal generation (and why animals generate at all) at the beginning of De generatione animalium II as it relates to his discussion of the cyclical nature of all generation that closes Generatione et Corruptione II.11.

How is the rationality of the Stoic god constituted? Commentators often look to the seventeenth-century ‘rationalists’, especially Spinoza, for their inspiration. But the Stoics say that god’s rationality is the same as ours. Since human rationality is defined as a product of concept-acquisition, it may be that the Stoics had to give an ‘empiricist’ account of divine rationality too. Hierocles’ discussion of animal self-perception shows that the Stoics had the conceptual materials for such an account.

This chapter studies the intersection of biology and cosmology from the angle of the thesis that the cosmos is intelligent in the sense that it is an agent capable of thinking, which is part of their more general thesis that the cosmos is an animal. The thesis that the cosmos is intelligent is argued for by the Stoics through different families of proofs.The present chapter focusses on one of them, called ‘F1’,and its relation to the proof of the intelligence of the cosmos in Plato, Tim. 30a2–c1. The argument-structure common to the members of F1 is (a) the intelligent is better than the unintelligent but (b) the cosmos is better than everything else; therefore, (c) the cosmos is intelligent. I argue that this argument-structure is borrowed from the Timaean proof but that, in contrast with the Timaean proof, F1 is based on a teleological theory that I call ‘cosmocentrism’, according to which the cosmos is a beneficiary, and the ultimate beneficiary, of everything that exists within it. Plato accepted cosmocentrism, but he did not use it to argue for the intelligence of the cosmos. This family, therefore, introduces a major innovation in ancient cosmological thinking.