Searching for appropriate fatalism candidate of Lazy argument

Ancient theories of fatalism

In the previous section, we stated that fatalism had and also has many faces. Now, we will try to present some distinctions within the ancient forms of the argument and to assign them corresponding names in trying to find some adequate candidate for the LA’s assumptions: i.e. to make some elbow room for the assumption of laziness or futility covered by the conclusion of the argument.

For the sake of a clearer understanding of the following exposition, we will repeat, from the previous section, probably the most commented and popular form of the argument among ancient as well as contemporary philosophers, as presented by Cicero [fat., xii, 28-29]:

“For there is a certain argument which is called the ‘Lazy Argument’ by the philosophers; if we obeyed this we would do nothing at all in life. For they argue as follows:

a) “If it is fated for you to recover from this disease, then you will recover, whether you call in a doctor or not;

b) similarly, if it is fated for you not to recover from this disease, then you will not recover, whether you call in a doctor or not.

c) But one or the other is fated;

d) so, there is no point in calling in a doctor.”

This is Cicero’s A-version of the argument. In the B-version of Cicero’s text, the term ‘fate’ is now omitted or substituted with the term ‘truth’, incorporated into a temporal context (‘true from eternity’).

In the previous section, we sketched a character of logical determinism (that is, logical fatalism). We shall name it a full-time fatalism. Even though this kind of fatalism today has many names, its common and most important feature is that truths have fixed and continual values across the time. There are no gaps in their applicability in respect to the moment of time some described event could occupy or in respect to any other circumstances, conceptual or hypothetical. It is neither in principle the unpredictable and causally senseless fatalism of Bunge nor the ‘discontinuity fatalism’ of Wilson.

The approach that follows would seem, at the first sight, like a kind of mystification, as these theories may look a little bit strange and from today’s perspective, hardly acceptable and outdated, but, from the other side, this approach corresponds with our intention to find a more appropriate ancient key for the real form of LA’s assumptions. Evidently, full-time fatalism is not an appropriate assumption of LA and probably, in respect to its extant form, never was. If it was, critics of LA would make it out easily and probably not refrain to set out their comments. This is our reason to look for other available historical solutions in interpreting LA.

Even Aristotle was an opponent of the way of reasoning found in LA, a theory of fixed truth values can also be found in his works (in his Phys. and especially de Int. Ch. 9.). Truths are fixed and unchangeable for stars as well for analytical truths. We could make future predictions true in advance in these spheres since these truths have onmitemporal as well as atemporal validity. However, in the sublunar sphere, especially where predictions coincide with biological matters, human actions or other contingent things, this is not the case. In the sublunar sphere time is asymmetrical. Only past truths are fixed while those of the future are open (or, let us say, almost open). This conception, since it asserts a causal nexus among past events and allows their causal explanation, is usually termed past fatalism and is one of our part-time fatalism conceptions. It seems that Aristotle would allow that all connections between events are causal by their nature and that they will be causal in the future too. However, some of the future events could be contingent and some could be dependent on human will and as such they would not be either part of our universal knowledge or within our power to know. In some of the non-universal cases we are not able to infer true proposition about future state of affairs. The future (only the sublunar future) is open and there are no existing truth makers of propositions with future reference. It is not completely clear what Aristotle had in mind when he partly allowed that in some cases we can know what will be. As it seems, his compatibilism and agent determinism is deeply rooted in an epistemic understanding of determinism. We have written about it elsewhere [Marko, 1999; 2004:255-8], but the point is, to put it in an illustrative way, that, when the event is, in time, nearer to us, then the contours of the future are clearer to our knowledge and our predictions start to be “more and more true”. Further, for future events/propositions we can only claim necessity of the whole disjunction but none of its disjuncts is true in advance. Disjuncts in the brackets are not true, though they are also not false, even when disjunction is necessary and true. This solution presents a ground for Łukasiewicz’s motivation to abandon two valued logic and also for van Fraassen’s [1966] initiative to introduce the procedure of supervaluation for Aristotelian kind of future cases. For us of interest here is the summary of this past fatalism: the past truths are fixed, those of the future are open; (sublunar) time is asymmetrical; necessity in front of bracketed disjunction is not distributable to disjuncts within brackets.

However, we still don’t know how lunar sphere could be determined in advance while the sublunar future is undetermined and why fatalism applies only to the past. The answer is dependent not only on metaphysical presuppositions but, in the same measure, on the presuppositions of ancient cultural contexts and practices. We will find the answer partly in Aristotle but more clearly within some of his later commentators. Meanwhile, we shall introduce other kinds of part-time fatalisms. Before we proceed, let us say that almost all ancient philosophers (except probably Epicurus, who is a ‘random’ indeterminist, and perhaps Cleanthes [Cic., fat. vi, 14]) will agree with fatalism about the past. This kind of fatalism usually covers together several principles. We shall introduce here only the most significant. First, if something is a case then a descriptive sentence covering it has to be true. Let us call it a restricted form of the ‘from case to truth’ principle, or a correspondence principle restricted by time-dependent conditions. Second, another principle would be a restricted form of the ‘from truth to necessity’ principle: if some proposition is true than it is necessary. Here, the principle is also restricted by time-dependent conditions. Last, among significant principles is an explanatory principle of causal connection and it relates logical and physical notions of necessity – if something is causally related it is necessary (in both senses, physical and logical). If all of the principles are applied to the past than there is no doubt about their validity. Fatalism about the past, in general, could be a part of full-time fatalism, but is not necessarily so. It is usually interpreted as one that does not obligate its defender to any other form of fatalism. Only sometimes does it play a role by answering questions about time symmetry, with regard to certain epistemological aspects of causality and also to shaping a formulation of causal determinism.

Astrological fatalism – full-time and part-time. Neither for Aristotle nor for his philosophical and cultural surrounding the two regions, the lunar and the sublunar, are completely independent from each other. There is no some strict border between them. Astrology was part of the institutional tradition and everyday predictive folklore. For these reasons, astrological fatalism can be interpreted as twofold.

Full-time astrological fatalism. In one sense, there is no barrier between the lunar and the sublunar spheres. The lunar simply govern the sublunar. In this variant, a physiognomy of fatalism is full-time in its character. Fate is written in the stars and there is no escape from it. In other words, the future is determined and on an epistemological level we are able to confirm it by predicting the moments in our lives by reading it from the stars, though, unfortunately, we are not able to escape the power of fate. This kind of fatalism is one of the candidates for laziness assumption. Cicero gives us the Stoics’ example of this kind, expressed in a conditional form as an instantiation of a universal rule: “If Fabius has been born with the Dogstar rising, Fabius will not die at sea” [de fato, vi, 12]. Fabius is a (personal) name that figures as a bound variable in exemplification of a universal statement “If anyone was born during the Dogstar rising …” It is an example of Stoic and Aristotelian omnitemporal truth. If someone fulfills the antecedent condition of being born during the Dogstar rising, that makes ground for knowing in advance his future fate according to the universal rule and in regard to the omnitemporality of truth and the strict connection between the lunar and the sublunar sphere. Even if fate could be known, there is no place to escape from it. An illustrative key fragment can be found in Manilius’ Astronomica [4.14-22, Goold]. According to him,

“Fate rules the world, all things stand fixed by its immutable laws, and the long ages are assigned a predestined course of events. In dying we are born and our end depends on our beginning... No one can abstain from what is given nor have what is denied, nor take hold of fortune with prayers if she is unwilling, nor flee what is at hand: all must bear their lot.”

As we can see, there is no mercy here and there is no escape from fate. Everything is governed by immutable laws; everything is causally connected and determined; antecedent mirrors consequent and vice versa. The truths are eternal; time is symmetrical. This is full-time fatalism and its assumptions could be common to logical fatalism as well. Certainly, we could find some differences regarding the epistemological aspects of the two and also in their pragmatic capacities. But their metaphysical ground seems to be the same. Predictability without omission is (in principle) possible and all future truths are written in advance. As in the case of logical fatalism, this could hardly be our candidate for the same reasons as mentioned earlier.

Part-time astrological fatalism. Another sense of astrological fatalism is connected to a reasonable question regarding the previous kind of fatalism: where is the sense in trying to find prediction if everything is fated and there is no escape from fate? The answers to this question form the set of part-time fatalism options. Let us call the first of them by its customary name – The Egyptian fatalism, or “The Doctrine of the Egyptian Sages.” There is not much known about this kind of fatalism, though probably enough for our present purpose, due to a long text from Iamblichus [de myst. 8,6], Nemesius’ testimony [de nat. hom. 106.15–20 Morani] and Ptolemy’s attestation to the medical practice of astrologers [tetr. 1.2.2-3]. Iamblichus seems to be a creditable source since we are reading words taken from the letter of an Egyptian high priest Abammon addressed to Porphyry who claims that the majority of Egyptians believe that our will “depends upon the movement of the stars.” There, Abammon refutes Porphyry’s opinion that Egyptian religion relies only on rigid subordination to the inexorable rule of fate and that all aspects of human life are governed by astral gods and daemons. Actually, the mechanism of fate is rather the following. In respect to impact of fate, there is a class hierarchy not just among gods but also among peoples. Priests and physicians are some kind of privileged and exclusive class of mediators. The order of the stars is immutable. However, by applying the institution of sacred rituals, priests, who are able to communicate with the proper gods, those superior to and above the lower gods who are ruling the stars, it is possible, for example, to recover from a fatal illness. The outcome looks to be only the correction of one fate by substitution with another, more favorable. The questions that remain open are: “Is there will free as there is nothing we can personally do about it?” and “Is there at least a tiny line of freedom for changing the path of our destiny?” According to his reaction to Porphyry, Abammon would have answered with ‘yes’. It is not so easy to change fate because the chain of dependence is long: our will is dependent on the will of a priest, his will is dependent on the will of higher gods who regulate the wills of lower gods, who at the end control our original destiny. In summary, you can read your destiny in stars and if not satisfied with it, you should go after the priest-physician and delegate him to intervene at the appropriate address. The logical structure that covers this kind of (astrological) fatalism is the following (here the law of the excluded middle expression Cv~C – to consult or to not consult a prayer – presents an action switch from one destiny governed by stars to another, more favorable destiny):

├─ {(A => B) & [A => (C => D)] & [A & (Cv~C)]} => (BvD)

Conditional (A=>B) above³ is an astrological prediction (like in Cicero’s Fabius example – “If Fabius has been born with the Dogstar rising, Fabius will not die at sea”). Sole letter A in a conjunctive sub-form of the third conjunct is the testimony that the antecedent condition of our fate is fulfilled (instantiated antecedent of prediction, like “Fabius has been born with the Dogstar rising”). If we leave the initially predicted destiny unaffected and do not consult a prayer (~C), then our destiny should remain unaffected, bound and governed by the stars and in accordance with former prediction (B); i.e. :

├─ {(A=>B) & [A=>(C=>D)] & (A&~C)} => B.

If we do consult a prayer (C) the outcome will be a more favorable destiny (D), and the previous unfamiliar predicted event (B) will be avoided, i.e.:

├─ {(A=>B) & [A=>(C=>D)] & (A&C)} => D.

The initially predicted fate, covered by (A=>B), in this case will yield a different form (A=>D). The former fated outcome (B) could be escaped by applying the railroad switch (C). Obviously, here we have the case of part-time fatalism. One additional issue could be of interest for us in respect to the nature of the original LA. According to the testimonies of Cicero, Aristotle and Origen, their examples are related to recovering from illness. The practice of Egyptian astrologers was especially known to be successful in cases concerning health, so Egyptian fatalism often takes the name of medical astrology [Ptol., ibid.]. From this angle, such fatalistic reasoning looks very familiar to LA’s candidate assumption; however, it seems too far from the lazy futilism we are trying to discover.

Yet another candidate has no other name except astrological fatalism. However, we must take care not to confuse it with the above two kinds of astrological fatalism since they are different in many respects. So let us temporarily give it a different name – Virgil’s astrological fatalism. Why? The sentence from the above cited place in Manilius “In dying we are born and our end depends on our beginning,” could be read and interpreted in different ways. One meaning can be found in Servius [ad Virg. Aen., viii 334], in his comment on Vergil words “almighty fortune and inevitable fate / place me on this soil.” Here Servius says that Virgil “spoke according to the Stoics who attribute birth and death to fate, all things in between to fortune.” According to this conception, key events in life (like birth and death and, according to certain authors, maybe some other important events in life) are subject to fate. The rest belongs to fortune. Only these key moments are governed by fate and can be read from stars. Predictions cover only these events. The other events are unpredictable and not written in the stars. Cicero, as in the case of Fabius (also in some other examples he probably took over from Posidonius, like that of Socrates and another of Laius [de fato, xiii, 30]), connects together only these two key events as fated. Let us call the period belonging to chance in between these two key events ‘in the meantime.’ This seems a good candidate for our purpose though there are some difficulties with it. Let us look at the problems closer.

Since the period ‘in the meantime’ between the two ‘key moments’ of our life belongs to chance, there is no place to apply and project the premises of LA into that period. This period is not fated. So, the appropriate interpretation in the context of LA would postulate that the second premise of argument is applicable only in the case of fatal diseases (diseases governed by fate and connected with key moments in our life, i.e. death). According to the argument, “if it is fated for you to not recover from this disease (i.e. that you will die)”, then we are able to do one action of an exclusive pair – to this or that. This premise corresponds with the conception. However, if the disease is not fatal (disease connected with our key life moments, like birth or death), then the first premise will not be suitable. Why? If we are able to recover, this moment is no longer a key moment but one ‘in the meantime’ belonging to chance and not to fate and so it does not correspond with what the second premise claims – “it is fated for you to recover” – for recovering can not be a fated event (since it is not fatal). That is not what Virgil’s astrological fatalism (of key moments in life) would allow. This is the reason why the conception could neither be applied to other LA examples known, for example, to those from Diogenianus [praep. ev. 6.8. 25-29]. Besides, let us note that Bobzien [1998, p. 201] criticizes Servius’ interpretation of ‘key events’ as not belonging to early Hellenistic philosophy or to Chrysippus’ theory of universal fate, though Cicero’s examples from Posidonius can be in favor of this conception. An illustration of Virgil’s astrological fatalism, in a logical manner, could have form of the following theorem:

├─ {[(A=>B) & (B=>C)] & [(A=>~B) & (~B=>C)] & (Bv~B)} => (A=>C).

The two square bracketed sub-expressions illustrate the assumption of causality and a causal order; the principle of excluded the middle is the chance principle applied to the period of ‘in the meantime’; the conclusion alone expresses inevitability of ‘key moments’. We could write this illustration also as

├─ {[A=>(B=>C)] & [A=>(~B=>C)] & (Bv~B)} => (A=>C)

though the former expression better stresses the assumption of causality and a causal order. The expressions in square brackets in both forms are also the equivalent to [(A&B)=>C] & [(A&~B)=>C)] though the expressions in parenthesis here are not causally evident and could be captious in respect to a non-logical reading of the so-called ‘key moment’ A, which is fated, while B and ~B are not, which is not evident from the last squared expressions.

There is yet another difficulty if a causal order is assumed in the manner of Virgil’s astrological fatalism. This conception seems to have absurd consequences. Let us consider the case of Fabius, who according to astrological prediction will not die at sea. For him, according to this conception, it would be impossible to die at sea. If events ‘in the meantime’ are free and their ordering is causal we can suppose and attach to Fabius agent-determinism during that period. He could do what he wants ‘in the meantime.’ But he cannot die at sea even if he tries. He even cannot fall in a sea battle. He is unsinkable at sea, simple immortal there. If it is so, not just key moments are fated, but there are more of them regulated by fate also ‘in the meantime,’ that belong to chance, that are not assumed by this theory. The theory says that just birth and death are fated.

As time passes and Fabius’ destiny is coming closer to the fated moment, new problems are rising. His agent-causality freedom to choose is reduced as time passes by and fate has to navigate him toward the shore. The reign of free will successively starts to become more and more governed by fated inevitability. Like in Aristotle’s epistemic determinism scenario, one of the two exclusive disjuncts becomes ‘more and more true’, while the other conversely, less and less. During his life, Fabius is able to do ‘this or that’ exclusive disjunctive complement but his disposition for free agency choices are radically reduced, as time passes, by the wider and wider influence exercised by fate with respect to the targeted and fated ‘key instant.’

Serious ancient debates are known about this conception. The example of twins has been for a long time a central subject in testing the validity of this conception [Cic., de div. ii 43,90-45.94; fat. Fr. 4; August., civ. dei, 5. 2]. Twins, born on the same day, should have the same destiny or ‘key moments’ because their astrological fate must be the same. We know that the Stoics did not agree with the formulation that twins have the ‘same’ birth situation because there is always some short delay between two instants of their particular birth what makes noticeable differences in their destinies – even very small differences lying in the background of particular birth instants are connected to differences in astrological constellation and determination.

‘No matter how and no matter what’. This kind of fatalism corresponds with the intuition Bunge probably had in mind above. As van Inwagen thinks [1986:28], the conception (he ascribed to his representation of the putative ‘strong inevitabilist’) simply “den[ies] the reality of cause and effect,” like in the Servius example – Pompeius will triumph three times, no matter what happens [ad Verg. Aen., iv, 696]. However, we can imagine two variants of this conception. The first variant of the claim speculates on a ‘miraculous’ or indeterministic instant, in the sense that there is a causal gap after which the predicted or fated event appears. This conception we can imagine without laws and the assumption of causation, and it corresponds with the ‘dramatic’ conception of the mythical and epic predictions of the Ancient Greeks. The outcome is known in advance, though it is realized in an unexplainable way. But it does not comprise all the possible readings of this conception.

In the second variant, we can imagine a different situation, one that covers the ‘reality of cause and effect’ and which is non-universal, like in the case derived from the fact of the mortality of human beings: ‘no matter what she does, at some point she will die’. Non-universality is here because it neglects the fact that the fated outcome is an instantiation of a universal connected pair. This conception could also be read in the sense of Virgil’s astrological fatalism (although only to some extent, because here the ‘key elements’ pair relation is not presented as definitive). Even this second case is not persuasive and applicable for all situations and types of events, but it is enough to describe those types of situations where the ‘reality of cause and effect’ could be imagined as continuously present, without unexplainable gaps or miracles. A nice illustration of this fatalism is in Broadie [2007, pp. 38-40]. The reduced structure of this kind of fatalism would be the following:

├─ {[(A=>B) & (~A=>B)] & (Av~A)} => B

The outcome is inevitable and none of my actions could forbid it. This conception can act as a basis for Chrysippus’ motivation to insist on introducing necessary co-fated suppositions into a causal version of this conception. For if the outcome has to be causally dependent then the antecedent must be represented through the completion of some necessary conditions (C) for the outcome:

├─ {[(A & C) => B] & [(~A & C) => B)] & C & (Av~A)} => B

In such a case, however, the outcome can be realized completely without the assumption of our free will decision (here, without assuming the excluded middle component), since our decision is altogether irrelevant for achieving the fated outcome:

├─ {[(A & C) => B] & [(~A & C) => B)] & C} => B

This now corresponds with Chrysippus’ criticism of LA, that whatever is fated must be followed by accomplishing a complete set of necessary conditions for the outcome. An open question is: what is the status of free will in this case (because an assumption of free will here is completely redundant for the outcome)? The domain of our will is reduced exclusively to the realization of events that are in accordance with (fated) conditions of (fated) consequences or to a sphere that is completely irrelevant to the occurrence of the outcomes. It is hard to say what the Stoics’ solution was since the sources are contradictory. Some sources are, from one extreme side, in favor of a hard determinism conception – our will operates completely in accordance with fate, like in Zeno’s example of a ‘dog tied to a cart,’ where will is compelled to follow fate [Hyppolytus, ref. omn. haer. 1.12]. A moderate solution to this approach is in favor of soft or agent-determinism where our will could be teleologically in agreement with fate by our free decision. The other extreme side is the one mentioned above in Servius’ fragment (Virgil’s astrological fatalism) – the will is completely free during the ‘meantime’ period, between two fated events. The list of possible interpretations and variations among them is richer since Stoicism covers different authors from different periods and does not present a completely unique conception.

Escaping and surpassing the fate. Above examples of full-time and part-time fatalism mostly accept that fated outcomes are inevitable and inescapable. There are, however, other conceptions of fatalism according to which some fated events, in some special cases, are possible to escape. One solution is escaping the fate completely, while the other concerns escaping it for a while, or to temporarily put fated events aside. For example, Egyptian fatalism is one kind that allows surpassing fated outcomes completely.

The most known theory of the first kind is hypothetical or conditional fate and hypothetical necessity. Tacitus, Nemesius, Alcinous and Calcidius ascribe it to Plato [Tac. An. 6.22.2; Nem. de nat. hom. xxxviii, 109,17-110,9 Morani; Alcin., Didasc. 26, 179, 1-34; Calc. in Tim. 150-4f., 186,13ff. Waszink]. Plato [Rep. x] states that souls, even before reincarnation, are responsible for choosing their future lives. Cicero ascribes the idea to Carneades [fat. ix, 19]. In latter times, mostly (Middle) Platonists [ps.-Plutarch, fat. 570c-e; Albinus, 26 179.2f.; Calc. ibid.] tend to restrict the absolute power of fate and universal necessity and to preserve responsibility by relying on the notion ‘up to us.’ Plutarch accepts the Stoics’ position on fate as the connection between antecedent and consequent. What he criticizes in their interpretation is that the antecedent is also in accordance with fate [ps-Plut. fat. 570e]. Our responsibility is ‘up to us’ – our choices and decisions are generated by means of what is ‘up to us.’ After the initial action in which the purpose of the will is realized, outcomes, once initiated, are no longer in our power. The same approach is sketched in Seneca [nat. quest. ii. 37], Diogenianus [apud Euseb. praep. ev. 6.8.25-29] and Oenomaus [apud Euseb. praep. ev. 6.7.].

Servius [ad Verg Aen., IV 696] gives the next example of conditional fate: if Pompeius after the battle in Pharsalia should touch a bank of Egypt, then he will die by a sword. So, if A, then B. Servius hereafter adds the following: “hic non omni modo necesse erat ut videret Aegyptum, sed si casus eum ad aliam forte regionem duxisset, evaserat, etc.” That is, it was not completely necessary for him to see Egypt, but, on the contrary, if it happens to him to be in some different region, he will escape this end. So, if ~A, than ~B.⁴ Fated things are not fixed antecedently from eternity, though once initiated, their outcomes come instantly through the power of fate and are necessary and inevitable. So, if A, then necessary B. We have no power to make any impact on the consequents of conditional relations and we are unable to change the outcomes in the meantime once the fated process is started. Most of the ancient astrological predictions are suited to the conditional form, as hypothetical statements, quite like the oracle said to Laius: ‘if you beget a son, then he will kill you’. If the antecedent is not fulfilled, then the consequent will not be realized. If the antecedent is realized, the outcomes of such a prediction could not be able to surpass and they come by necessity. Predictions and oracles of this kind relativize the notion of the absolute necessity of fate and push it toward temporally relative necessity, or necessity per accidens.

In an argument quoted by Cicero [fat. xiv, 31] Carneades criticizes the Stoics’ position that everything comes about by antecedent causes – because something is in our power and thus not everything which comes about comes about by power of fate. According to him, since future truths are not fixed in advance “not even Apollo could say what is going to be” [ibid. xiv, 32]. Predictions are possible only if they are restricted to conditionals with a realized antecedent, for these conditionals present the same kind of fated laws or nature of things that is realized inevitably and of necessity. Carneades’ conception could be presented by the following expression that assumes an ‘alternative fate’ (~A=>~B) and respects his demands that a) ‘something is in our power,’ b) ‘not everything is according to fate’ and also covers a tacit assumption in his proof demonstrated in Cicero [ibid. xiv, 31],⁵ that c) ‘not all things come about through antecedent causes’:

├─ [(A => B) & (~A=>~B) & (Av~A)] => (Bv~B)

Servius gives a more refined modal form of the expression:

├─ [(A => []B) & (~A=>~[]B) & (Av~A)] => ([]Bv~[]B).

In Carneades’ case we have a railroad switch principle that corresponds to the dilemmatic form: if we have two conditionals with different fated consequents, then, if we chose one of two antecedents, the consequent of the other conditional is excluded and an alternative fate is avoided. Even at first sight, these two formulations, Carneades’ and Servius’, look similar according to the principle of their formation, but Servius’ modal formulation is more subtle. It is not simply an ‘alternative fate’ conception, but rather presents an ‘alternative to fate,’ since, according to his suggestion, an alternative to fate is not fixed but open and expresses richer possibilities for free will (~[]B): either {[(A => []B) & (~A=>~[]B) & A] => []B} or {[(A => []B) & (~A=>~[]B) & ~A] => ~[]B}.

It seems that in all possible formulations of a ‘conditional fate’ fatalism the principle of the excluded middle is redundant in the antecedent part of expression and could be omitted because the meanings of both implicative expressions in the square brackets are mutually excluding options. That is, the expression remains a theorem without the third conjunct, i.e. Av~A. According to one possible interpretation, ‘conditional fate’ fatalism could hardly be an adequate candidate for LA, since it fulfills Chrysippus’ remark about antecedent condition. From the other side, laziness could be applied to the period during the realization of the chosen consequent, after the antecedent is chosen. Even this is not full-time fatalism, we have to note, that here, in the meantime, after the outcome is initiated by the decision for one of the antecedents, conditional fate transforms and functions during that period in accordance with full-time fatalism principles.

Against ‘conditional fate’ form of fatalism (understood as a kind of universal conditional law) and predictions corresponding to it, there is one strong ancient objection. It comes from the atheist Oenomaus [apud Euseb. praep. ev. 6,7], who calls it simply ‘shameless’. If particular will is free to choose between two antecedent conditions what would the outcome be if the decisions of the other affected person were included in the same events and started a conflicting stream of fate? If Laius is master of his will, then Oedipus is too. Oenomaus concludes: “and as the latter [i.e. Laius] had the power of begetting or not, so the son had the power of slaying or not...” Two fates would be in conflict and their interference will change the fated outcomes in both cases. Oenomaus repeats Carneades’ claim that not even Apollo could make the prediction in the case of conditional fate. But unlike Carneades, he criticizes the conception of conditional fate as altogether untenable. Beside, here it is not completely clear whether the will free only decides for exemplifications of the antecedents of universal conditional laws or whether it can sometimes take a longer rest and act without constant pressure to chose between different fated outcomes? If fated links are restricted only to some kinds of events but not to all, then the will could be free and independent of conditional laws and always have the opportunity to escape fate. If all events are generators of fated outcomes, then escaping one fated chain means only substituting it by some other chain instead. Some answers concerning this problem came from Proclus.

Among those accounts that permit the complete escaping of fate we can include another. Proclus [in Tim. 3.272,11-14] defends the Neo-Platonic conception of hypothetical fate. In his list of approaches, he also quotes some rival conceptions. For example, he cites an unknown place in Aristotle, where it is claimed that it is possible to escape the order of celestial motions, cosmic circuits, the intellect of universe, and in such a way “surpassing their fate.” A few lines earlier, he introduced the Peripatetics, particularly Alexander, as stating that fate is individual natural disposition. Humans are born with a certain set of dispositions. Such dispositions by themselves determine the fate of the person. Fate of this kind could be overcome in different ways - for example, by improving skills, by enriching knowledge, by reflection on one’s own dispositions given by natural fate. How it is technically possible? This conception assumes some kind of world hierarchy, quite like Egyptian fatalism. It is governed from the top to the bottom by the power of providence, followed by fate, and at the end of that process are humans and their individual dispositions. “Fate is the servant of Providence”, as Boethius used to say [cons. 4,6,13] or, Fate is subordinated to Providence and governed by God according to the Law of Providence, as Hierocles thinks [de prov. in Phot. Bib. 461b28-31]. In Hierocles’ Neo-Platonic interpretation, the character of this law is hypothetical quite like in the case noted earlier (‘if you do this, you will have such-and-such a punishment or reward’). Peripatetics, from the other side, could allow that one can overcome his fated dispositions given by antecedent conditions. Alexander said that men’s actions and lives and endings “can for the most part (V.M.) be seen to be in accordance with their natural constitutions and dispositions” [de fato, 170,20-3, Sharples]. However, even hypothetical laws are strong, fate can still be completely overcome. In the example of Socrates’ physiognomy, he says that it is possible to override the stream determined by fate through exercising philosophy [ibid. 171,7-17]. His solution at the same time supports the usefulness of predictions, since predictions are connected to fated events and these are connected to current dispositions. Nevertheless, natural dispositions are capable of being changed and ‘in some part’ are open to our will: if Socrates had not been involved in philosophy, he probably would be governed solely by the power of fate depending on his naturally given dispositions. Prophets, soothsayers, physiognomists, etc. can only predict his possible future (not his necessary future) according to dispositions or signs related to these, but they are unable to predict possible individual transformations and deflections away from the stream of fate.

Boethius’ conception of mutable fate is very similar to the previous one [cons. 5] and in some sense supervenes on that of Alexander. The idea has roots in Aristotle. Fate and Fortune are deity complements and Fate is accompanied by Fortune. Events are determined by Fate, but one can influence it and escape the power of Fate as Calcidius states [in Tim. 189]. Only if Fate remains without any resistance will fated outcomes be realized. Ignorance leads to the full power of Fate, while resistance is helped by Fortune. Fate is the power governed by the static and unchanging providential plan of God realized through and by Fate, in space and time [de int² 193,26 ff], while human souls can rise above the level of Fate by rational acting and can gain the mercy of Fortune. The equation is: more Fortune, less Fate; more rational acting, less determination by fate.

This conception, as another in the set of those accounts that permit the complete escaping of fate (let us add, sublunar fate), shares some points with Egyptian fatalism (celestial dependence, which could be changed and overcome …), with Virgil’s astrological fatalism (fate is given by birth …) and with Carneades’ conditional fate (and assumption of agent-determinism). In contrast to the indirect escape found in Egyptian fatalism, our will can overcome fated outcomes directly. Plus – there is no ‘meantime fatalism’ here.

Some authors state that fate can be escaped, but not in full. There are known cases connected with predicted fated events that could be avoided only temporarily or that could happen before their time. This is a soft version of Virgil’s astrological fatalism, so let us give an illustration from Virgil’s verses referring to the case of death ‘before its fate’: “For, since she was perishing neither by fate nor by a deserved death, wretchedly before her day” [Aen. iv, 696]. A fated event and its date are foreshadowing – once fated, the event alone is impossible to escape, while the date can be pushed aside for a while or could be reached even before the predicted moment. We could compare this option with aforementioned Oenomaeus’ comment about two interfering wills and probably recognize them as grounds for explaining how to stretch fated time. In any case, the possibility of stretching the time dimension of predicted events gives additional sense to and reason for those interested in hearing predictions. However, it is hard to give some general opinion on these kinds of cases and to say whether they are full or part-time fatalism and whether the delay of fated event can be interpreted as an escape at all?

Posidonius’ examples and the stretching kind of fatalism. There is a bundle of predictive examples in Cicero’s de fato and de divinatione. Those presented at de fato iii, 5-6 are probably taken over from Posidonius and discredited as problematic for different reasons. We will not deal with them in detail here. What is interesting is that these examples show some structure of representation about how fate can operate as well as one understanding of fatalism. Predictions are there presented as inevitable but in most of the examples there is some problematic stretching in respect to the ‘topology’ of prediction, much like before in Virgil’s example with the phrase ‘before her day’. Predictions cover some more or less strict informative content in respect to the time, place and way the predicted event will occur. Not all three elements are always present or fixed by prediction. In Socrates’ example [fat. xiii, 30] the date was fixed in advance while in the case of Fabius it is just known that he will not die at sea. Fabius’ destiny is not affirmatively formulated or predicted ­­– the place, time or explicit way of death is not introduced.

The fixity of time is not by itself enough for a kind of fatalism to be full-time fatalism (logical fatalism). If one element is fixed but not the others, then this kind of fatalism can fall under its part-time variant. If ‘Fabius will not die at the sea’, then, when he is at sea, he is completely protected against fate, and, during his time at sea, he would be immortal because there is no necessary condition for his fate to be executed. So, fate is here stretching in its character since there is a way of escaping it.

Why is this aspect of fatalism of interest for us here? The assumptions of LA could be read as this kind of fatalism – like the stretching fatalism of an uncertain topology. LA could be understood also as assuming the absence of topological fixity. Certainly, the argument could be read in different ways and it does not mean that if some elements are omitted from predictions that the event could be not fated in a strict way or in the way of full-time fatalism. Here, we only wish to emphasize that such stretching conceptions were present in ancient times and could be a part of the context of our argument, too.

Probably the strangest kind of fatalism is the Jerusalem chamber of Harrison [1983]. It looks similar to Cicero’s example with Daphitas [fat. iii, 5] (for whom it is predicted that he will fall from a horse while he really ended up being thrown from a rock called Hippos - ‘The Horse’). Here, no direct topology of the fated event is indicated {place, time, mean} but only an indirect and puzzling one. Even the program of fate could be, after the event, interpreted as fixed. This kind of fatalism is named according to Shakespeare [Henry IV, p. 2 act iv, sc. 5]. The dying king is carried to the palace named ‘Jerusalem Chamber’. There he dies, fulfilling a prophecy that he would die in Jerusalem. That should be enough about fatalism or fatalisms.

What kind of fatalism does encourage idleness? Aristotle criticizes the idleness conclusion but, as it seems, his conclusion is used more against logical fatalism as a conception than against the inference of the argument according to which fatalism implies idleness. At any rate, the form of fatalism that could act as an assumption in LA must assume a) some form of free will and b) fixed fated outcomes. Since only the Platonic-Socratic conception chronologically and conceptually corresponds with LA we suppose that the argument was directed to Plato and his conception of conditional fate understood as a law [cf. Alcinous, xxvi, 179,1-34] or to some Socratic followers. The authors must be skilled in logic and defenders of causal and logical determinism. There are not many candidates from whom to choose since all traces point to the Megarians.