This chapter examines two versions of hedonist theories of the life worth living, one rather pessimistic, adopted by the Cyrenaics, particularly Hegesias, another more optimistic, adopted by the Epicureans. Both these approaches tend to diminish the gap between the best possible life and a life at least barely worth living, though they do so in converse directions. According to Hegesias, the best possible life falls to the level of a life just barely worth living, that is, a life in which there is no more pain than pleasure. According to the Epicureans, the threshold of a life at least barely worth living is raised to the proximity of the best possible life. A happy life, that is, a life of pleasure, must be a philosophical life, since only philosophy can guarantee freedom from disturbance. But freedom from disturbance is also required for a life worth living, so that a life is not worth living unless it is guided by philosophy, with the important caveat that a progress in philosophy, or the promise of such a progress, is sufficient for a worthwhile life.

This chapter claims that wild animals are morally considerable. Because nonhuman animals are sentient, they have a well-being of their own – a necessary and sufficient condition for having moral consideration. It further claims that this is the case independently of the theory of well-being one might endorse. It then argues that nonhuman interests in not suffering are morally relevant and that equal instances of suffering should be equally considered, irrespective of species membership. It follows that our reasons to prevent or alleviate nonhuman suffering are as strong as our reasons to prevent equal instances of human suffering. Finally, it argues for a conditional claim: If death is bad at all, then under certain theoretical assumptions, death is also bad for nonhuman animals and, sometimes, it may be comparatively worse than for human beings. If so, the nonhuman interest in continuing to live gives us additional reasons to act on behalf of wild animals, by preventing them from dying.

Bernard Reginster provides a different perspective on some of these themes, deepening our understanding of Schopenhauer's pessimism. This is rooted in the idea that there is something systematically delusive about desire, since fulfilling our desires does not give the lasting satisfaction we would want. But Schopenhauer holds out the possibility that we can detach from our desires through resignation. How is such detachment possible? Reginster confronts the same problem we saw in Chapter 1, that the act of denial of the will cannot itself be an act of will; but he looks to a solution Janaway rejected, namely, Schopenhauer’s appeal to a secularized version of the Christian concept of grace. In probing the structure of resignation, Reginster argues that it must involve some “incentive” in the form of cognitive insight into “the will's inner conflict and its essential nothingness,” (WWR 1, 68, 424–470) which leads one to voluntary asceticism, that is, mortification of the will, which in turn leads to resignation. He shows that Schopenhauer provides two mechanisms for this, plausible by the standards of contemporary psychology: hedonic adaptation (i.e. “getting used to” deprivation) and physical weakening of the body, which, as objectified will, weakens the will.

This chapter argues that the emergence of Krautrock can only be understood against the background of the specific mixture of national and international impulses that shaped the West German musical scene in the late 1960s and early 1970s. What is striking is a high degree of politicisation that resulted, among other things, from the Nazi past and the position of the divided country at the interface of the Cold War. It fuelled a particularly radical student movement and at the same time legitimised a fundamental critique of the culture industry. Combined with the musical impulses from United States and Britain, this gave rise to very unique musical forms that seemed to counter the international mainstream with something entirely new.

Chapter 5 focuses on the elusive boundary between the lazy and the industrious in the post-1908 Young Turk era. In this tumultuous period, the Ottoman culture producers employed the concepts of work and laziness to further develop the exclusionary language characteristic of the culture of productivity against their rivals. Surveying political pamphlets, journals, memoirs, and the daily press, this chapter shows how various ideological camps entered into a cultural struggle over who should be regarded as lazy and useless based on a putative association with “super Westernization” or with “anti-progressivism.” In the relatively open political atmosphere immediately following the 1908 revolution, the polemics between various political agents, usually dubbed “Westernists” and “Islamists,” signalled a vital debate on the ideal citizen required by the nation. Their views of these issues diverged greatly, as did the question of who should be labeled lazy and unproductive. Such labels marshaled the exclusionary language that has been in development, revealing a variety of models of reform in the public sphere and how each one regarded the other as the cause of laziness.

This chapter uses Aristotle’s account in the Nicomachean Ethics to reconstruct Eudoxus’ argument for the thesis that pleasure is the good. He sets out and explains Eudoxus’s argument from universal pursuit: pleasure must be the good because all animals pursue pleasure in all natural and fitting choices. Eudoxus’ naturalism is an important background assumption here. He assumes that each animal, by nature, successfully chooses in all situations what is good for itself. This allows him to move from an observation about the universal pursuit of pleasure to the claim that pleasure is a feature of all natural and good choices. The pleasure that features in such choices is overall pleasure. Thus, Eudoxus can allow that animals sometimes naturally choose things that are painful, provided that what they choose contains more pleasure than pain overall. Aufderheide ends by suggesting how Eudoxus might defend the claim that pleasure is not merely a good, but moreover the good. This is not to claim that pleasure is the only thing that is good, but rather that pleasure plays a unique role in relation to choice: it is the only thing that features in all natural and good choices as a good.

We re-examine Pigou’s ethics in welfare economics with respect to welfarist or non-welfarist (more broadly, utilitarian or non-utilitarian) concepts based on various perspectives, such as incommensurability among utility and people, basic need information approach, non-welfarist justification of the national minimum, and methodological individualism in axiology. Consequently, we could detect certain non-welfarist approaches in his welfare economics, which squarely challenges the orthodox understanding of his works. We can assert that the deviation from simple welfarism was a result of practical considerations. Furthermore, apart from the dichotomy about welfarist and non-welfarist viewpoints, we present novel assessments of Pigou’s welfare notion: a hybrid strategy for the enhancement of people’s well-being. We show that his overall welfare idea involves both subjective and objective accounts and has a three-layered welfare strategy: bare and raw preferences turn into educated and refined ones via objective needs.

These two chapters form a conceptual unity. Their aim is, first, to present and, then, to compare the concepts of technê (art, craft, discipline, expertise) used, respectively, by the Stoics and the Epicureans in different philosophical domains – notably, in cosmology, epistemology and ethics. The main issues to be discussed include the definition of a technê; the criteria determining a technê, the importance of rules and method, the role of experience and practice, the structure of every technê in so far as it is directed towards a goal, the necessary and sufficient conditions for the transmissibility of different sorts of technai and the common assumption that the technai are beneficial for life. Moreover, Tsouna argues that the notions of technê occurring in Stoic and Epicurean texts differ, and she explains how they differ. She suggests that one reason for that fact is that these two schools react in different ways to Plato’s rationalism about technê. On the one hand, the Stoics’ creative appropriation of Plato leads them to formulate a principally rationalistic notion of technê, which is manifest, for example, in their cosmological creationism (cf. the notion of technikon pur), the epistemological distinction between first-order technai and the epistêmê of the wise man, and their ethical conception of the art of living. On the other hand, the Epicureans react to the Platonic heritage in a more negative way and appear to modify their views about technê accordingly. Vis-à-vis the Stoics, they exhibit greater flexibility regarding the criteria of ‘technicity’ and attribute more value to common experience than many Stoics do. Their physical theory precludes any idea of divine craftsmanship. As for Epicurean epistemology and ethics, both involve uses of technê consistent with Epicurean empiricism and the ethical view that pleasure or the absence of pain is the supreme good.

These two chapters form a conceptual unity. Their aim is, first, to present and, then, to compare the concepts of technê (art, craft, discipline, expertise) used, respectively, by the Stoics and the Epicureans in different philosophical domains – notably, in cosmology, epistemology and ethics. The main issues to be discussed include the definition of a technê; the criteria determining a technê, the importance of rules and method, the role of experience and practice, the structure of every technê in so far as it is directed towards a goal, the necessary and sufficient conditions for the transmissibility of different sorts of technai and the common assumption that the technai are beneficial for life. Moreover, Tsouna argues that the notions of technê occurring in Stoic and Epicurean texts differ, and she explains how they differ. She suggests that one reason for that fact is that these two schools react in different ways to Plato’s rationalism about technê. On the one hand, the Stoics’ creative appropriation of Plato leads them to formulate a principally rationalistic notion of technê, which is manifest, for example, in their cosmological creationism (cf. the notion of technikon pur), the epistemological distinction between first-order technai and the epistêmê of the wise man, and their ethical conception of the art of living. On the other hand, the Epicureans react to the Platonic heritage in a more negative way and appear to modify their views about technê accordingly. Vis-à-vis the Stoics, they exhibit greater flexibility regarding the criteria of ‘technicity’ and attribute more value to common experience than many Stoics do. Their physical theory precludes any idea of divine craftsmanship. As for Epicurean epistemology and ethics, both involve uses of technê consistent with Epicurean empiricism and the ethical view that pleasure or the absence of pain is the supreme good.

The conclusion sums up the work, indicating the core elements shared by (Hellenic) theories of daimonification along with (Jewish and Christian) theories of angelification. One common element is the link of virtue (ethical transformation) with physical and cognitive transformation. It is this persistent link that allows ancient theories of posthuman transformation to serve as correctives for current Transhumanist visions of posthuman enhancement. Transhumanists often speak of cognitive and physical improvements with no robust reflection on ethical or moral improvement. Posthuman enhancement must never be defined apart from morality, but in terms of it. Morality cannot simply be programmed from without, nor can it be governed by the overall value of personal autonomy.

Happiness has been a major topic of philosophical and other forms of investigation throughout history. Happiness has often been held as an end and a means to good life. People have generally sought happiness, and happiness is related in common and academic discourse to progress, success, and value. However, not all traditions prize happiness, and the definition of happiness and its implications for social life and education are contested. How to measure it, whether one can measure it, and how to know it when you see it, are some puzzles psychologists and philosophers (among others) grapple with. This chapter gives a brief history of the concept of happiness alongside other concepts, of eudemonia and well-being, from philosophical orientations, in psychology, and from the perspective of the politics of emotions. It traces how these views have shaped educational aims and strategies. The analysis here emphasises the need for consideration of more critical approaches to happiness as an educational aim, despite the praise of happiness as a good in itself in much of western philosophy and psychology.

The Romans had a difficult relationship with the kind of luxury and excess that we think of as indicators of moral and social decadence. But in many ways they revelled in such luxury. Readily accepting the financial rewards of empire, they spent huge sums on their own benefits. Whether in the colossal public games in the amphitheatre and the circus, in the opulent imperial bath complexes, or in extravagant private villas, Romans of all social levels delighted in the very best that life was thought to offer. Chapter 1 examines how far the evidence supports this somewhat melodramatic view of Rome by looking at the ways in which luxury spread in the Roman world. It also looks at the ways this growth in luxury compelled the Romans to create new concepts to understand the phenomenon. Luxury was almost never seen as a simple index of increased wealth. Rather, it raised all manner of moral issues among Rome’s ruling classes, many of which long outlived the end of the Roman empire itself.

The modern concept of decadence owes its origins not only to ancient Rome but also to Europe and Great Britain during the Enlightenment era, a period notorious for the hedonism and hypocrisy of the aristocracy. The social decadence of the period was reflected in its libertine literature, but there is also a close association between libertine behaviour and enlightenment thought. The term ‘libertine’ can be traced back to such rational, scholarly associations of freethinkers as les libertins érudits, a group whose intellectual and ideological goal was the liberation of society from the strictures of religious dogma and authoritarian rule. By providing a rational basis for immorality, Sade and other libertine authors did much to influence later writers customarily regarded as decadent. Yet despite its comprehensibility and even its power and attractiveness today, Enlightenment decadence thrived within a unique nexus of material wealth, transgressive intellectualism, and politicized eroticism that was very much of its time.