100 Books Like Sextus Empiricus

Hadot’s book was a rare confirmation for me of an alternate approach to ancient philosophy. My earlier work on ancient sceptics had led me to appreciate the centrality of personal therapy aimed towards peace of mind. Hadot persuasively demonstrates that this was, in fact, the aim of virtually all ancient Greek philosophy.

Modern philosophers have presumed that the ancients, like themselves, are engaged in an objective search for truth. Hadot shows that philosophers from Plato and Aristotle, Epicureans and Stoics, to Plotinus and St. Augustine, focused not on truth but on easing pain and suffering through a variety of therapeutic strategies, including self-control through meditative practices.

The result is an entirely new and revolutionary understanding of ancient philosophy.

Batchelor’s book rocked the Buddhist world. He stripped away the mysticism and institutional superstructure which, over the centuries, has turned Buddhism into an organized religion.

Bachelor presented Buddhism not as something to believe in but as a down to earth practice available to anyone seeking on their own to relieve the stresses and anxieties of modern life. His work, coming out of the Buddhist community (Batchelor started off as a Buddhist monk), provided further evidence of the common approach to practical, personal liberation explored in my own work based on comparing Pyrrhonism and early Buddhism. 

McEvilley’s comprehensive book was an eye-opener for me. He breaks new ground by exploring in great detail the fascinating diffusion of ideas between ancient Greece and ancient India, a topic ignored by most scholars.

He demolishes “Orientalist” presumptions of Western superiority over Eastern cultures, showing how Indian ideas like reincarnation and a holistic conception of the universe were adapted early on by Greek thinkers, while Greek logic and dialectical argumentation were absorbed by the Indians.

He convincingly demonstrates, in his words, that “every mystical element in Indian thought can be found in Greek thought too, and every rational element in Greek thought can be found in Indian.” This view corrects the historical record and strongly reinforces the notion of a cultural parity between East and West.

The fascinating journey of the Greek philosopher Pyrrho to India as part of the entourage accompanying Alexander the Great and his encounters there with Indian wise men is central to Beckwith’s book.

I was excited to find his portrayal of Pyrrho as a ‘Greek Buddha’ confirming my earlier research on the compelling parallels between the Pyrrhonian sceptics of ancient Greece, who followed Pyrrho, and the Buddhist tradition. Beckwith shows that Pyrrho’s two-year stay with Alexander in Gandhara in northwestern India at a time of Buddhist presence there provided ample opportunities for extended contact.

The Indian wise men, he demonstrates, were very likely early Buddhists. He reinforces this by drawing additional parallels between the two traditions. 

When I wrote Rationality, I mentioned Hume 32 times. He didn’t think of everything, but he explained an astonishing range of topics related to rationality, including causation versus correlation, is versus ought, and individual versus collective self-interest.

His follow-up, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, explained why we shouldn’t believe in miracles. He explored all of these topics with clarity and wit, putting modern academic writing to shame.

If you’d like to take a relatively straightforward but sophisticated tour through ignorance, this book is for you. 

Frankly, it’s a book I would like to have written. The author is a philosopher and I’m not, so his viewpoint and voice differ from mine, but his book echoes, parallels, and expands my own work and a host of others’ writings on ignorance. DeNicola uses four engaging metaphors as vehicles for his tour: ignorance as a place, a boundary, a limit, and a horizon. 

His treatment of ignorance nicely avoids the usual negative bias against it. Like me, he recognizes that ignorance has its uses and even can be beneficial or virtuous. And his footnotes and bibliography provide plenty of material if you want to find out more. 

In Žižek’s view, philosophy as we know it today does not well and truly begin until the late-eighteenth century, with Kant’s critical-transcendental “Copernican revolution.” The Critique of Pure Reason inaugurates this revolution. It insists on the ineliminable centrality of the structures and dynamics of minded subjectivity for the constitution of what we experience as objective reality. Moreover, on Žižek’s psychoanalytic rereading of Kant’s epoch-making 1781/1787 masterpiece, Kant anticipates, among many other things, Lacan’s idea of an internally divided subject as the ultimate unconscious condition of possibility for how we humans register and understand ourselves and our world. Moreover, the Kant of the first Critique is crucial for Žižek as the inspiration for the entire tradition of post-Kantian German idealism so central to Žižek’s own philosophical program.

Schopenhauer is one of the 19th century’s most important, and frequently overlooked, thinkers.

His multivolume work, translated as The World as Will and Representation, or The World as Will and Idea, has had the single greatest impact on my own thinking about “the world,” and as clearly written as a German philosopher can make it, this multi-volume, sometimes appearing as one-volume abridged edition, should be on every educated reader’s bucket list.

Polanyi, an eminent Hungarian Jewish chemist who spent his career at the University of Manchester, was the smarter brother of the more famous Karl Polanyi, the socialist economic historian. Michael (Mihály) shows in the book how science depends on ordinary, “personal” knowledge, as for example in riding a bicycle. He was a “liberal” in the European sense, unlike his brother, and saw the scientific community as analogous to a free market, and the free market as analogous to a scientific community.

Naming and Necessity had a profound impact on my understanding of the importance of using proper names in programming (for functions, variables, etc.). I was fascinated by Kripke’s exploration of the usage of names in our day-to-day language. His arguments challenged my thinking and introduced me to new ways of considering reference and meaning.

The clarity and rigor of his analysis pushed me to refine my reasoning skills. Despite being a challenging read, I found it incredibly rewarding.