This thesis is a study of alienation in Jean-Paul Sartre's Critique of Dialectical Reason. The thesis is organized around three central questions: What does Sartre conceive alienation to be? What for Sartre are the causes and/or conditions of alienation? What are the prospects for overcoming alienation? ;In the course of this inquiry I arrived at a general definition of alienation, viz., that it is the process whereby the human subject is constrained to become 'other' than what he authentically is in (...) his being. The condition of otherness is characteristic of all alienation. But I discovered two notions of alienation in Sartre, one of which is a fundamental ontological condition rooted in the structure of human existence conceived as praxis, and the other more historically specific and akin to Marxian theories of alienation. The former is an ineliminable element of the "human condition" as well as the necessary, though not sufficient condition of the latter alienation, which is historically surpassable. I argue that the key to understanding Sartre's theory of alienation is to be found in his philosophical anthropology, a theory of man as perpetually self-transcending and self-objectifying activity whose activity leads to alienation. (shrink)

This volume examines the philosophical thought of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and is an assessment of King’s contribution to philosophy—especially ethics, social philosophy and philosophy of religion. It also explores the relevance of King’s thoughts as “liberatory discourse”—insurgent thinking aimed at enabling contemporary social justice.

This volume examines the philosophical thought of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and is an assessment of King’s contribution to philosophy—especially ethics, social philosophy and philosophy of religion. It also explores the relevance of King’s thoughts as “liberatory discourse”—insurgent thinking aimed at enabling contemporary social justice.

Starting with Goffman and ending with Foucault -- The spacetimeplace "thing" -- Time goes vertical; space yields in -- What Marx brought in from the cold : reproduction -- Bringing in the body -- Bring in geography.

"Among the foremost Catholic philosophers of his generation. He has utilized the fullness of the Catholic intellectual tradition to brilliantly take the measure of modern philosophical thought... This volume is an expression of Robert Wood's singular philosophical outlook." -Jude Dougherty, dean emeritus, school of philosophy, The Catholic University of America.

Originally published: c2000. With new pref. An award-winning biologist argues that the intersection of scientific creativity and religious insight is a prerequisite for the emergence of a more humane medical science.

Are there parallels between the "moment of insight" in science and the emergence of the "unknowable" in religious faith? Where does scientific insight come from? Award-winning biologist Robert Pollack argues that an alliance between religious faith and science is not necessarily an argument in favor of irrationality: the two can inform each other's visions of the world. Pollack begins by reflecting on the large questions of meaning and purpose--and the difficulty of finding either in the orderly world described by (...) the data of science. He considers the obligation to find meaning and purpose despite natural selection's claim to be a complete explanation of our presence as a species--a claim that calls upon neither natural intention, nor design, nor Designer. Next, the book focuses on matters of free will, from the choice of a scientist to accept evidence, to the choice of a religious person to accept a revelation, to a patient's loss of free will in medical treatment. Here Pollack addresses questions of ethics and offers a provocative comparison of two difficult texts whose contents remain incompletely understood: the DNA "text" of the human genome and the Hebrew record of Jewish written and oral law. In closing, Pollack considers the promise of genetic medicine in enabling us to glimpse our own future and offers a reconsideration of the possible utility of the so-called placebo effect in curing illness. Whether refuting a DNA-based biological model of Judaism or discussing the Darwinian concept of the species, Pollack, under the banner of free inquiry, presents a genuine, vital, and well-argued assay of the intersection of science and religion. (shrink)

This book examines the Condorcet Jury Theorem and how its assumptions can be applicable to the real world. It will use the theorem to assess various familiar political practices and alternative institutional arrangements, revealing how best to take advantage of the truth-tracking potential of majoritarian democracy.

Utilitarianism, the great reforming philosophy of the nineteenth century, has today acquired the reputation for being a crassly calculating, impersonal philosophy unfit to serve as a guide to moral conduct. Yet what may disqualify utilitarianism as a personal philosophy makes it an eminently suitable guide for public officials in the pursuit of their professional responsibilities. Robert E. Goodin, a philosopher with many books on political theory, public policy and applied ethics to his credit, defends utilitarianism against its critics and (...) shows how it can be applied most effectively over a wide range of public policies. In discussions of such issues as paternalism, social welfare policy, international ethics, nuclear armaments, and international responses to the environment crisis, he demonstrates what a flexible tool his brand of utilitarianism can be in confronting the dilemmas of public policy in the real world. (shrink)

Revisioning macro-democratic processes in light of the processes and promise of micro-deliberation, Innovating Democracy provides an integrated perspective on democratic theory and practice after the deliberative turn.

Bracket out the wrong of committing a wrong, or conspiring or colluding or conniving with others in their committing one. Suppose you have done none of those things, and you find yourself merely benefiting from a wrong committed wholly by someone else. What, if anything, is wrong with that? What, if any, duties follow from it? If straightforward restitution were possible — if you could just ‘give back’ what you received as a result of the wrongdoing to its rightful owner (...) — then matters are morally more straightforward. But in real-world cases that is often impossible, and questions of ‘how much, from whom and to whom?’ become far more vexing. The beneficiary disgorging all benefits of the wrong is part of the story, but where that is not possible or will not suffice to compensate the victim of wrongdoing we discuss various ways of allocating the cost of making the victim whole, including supplementation from public coffers. (shrink)

Democracy used to be seen as a relatively mechanical matter of merely adding up everyone's votes in free and fair elections. That mechanistic model has many virtues, among them allowing democracy to 'track the truth', where purely factual issues are all that is at stake. Political disputes invariably mix facts with values, however, and then it is essential to listen to what people are saying rather than merely note how they are voting. The great challenge is how to implement that (...) deliberative ideal among millions of people at once. In this strikingly original book, Goodin offers a solution: 'democratic deliberation within'. Building on models of ordinary conversational dynamics, he suggests that people simply imagine themselves in the position of various other people they have heard or read about and ask, 'What would they say about this proposal?' Informing the democratic imaginary then becomes the key to making deliberations more reflective - more empathetic, more considered, more expansive across time and distance. (shrink)

"How do we experience time? What do we use to experience it?In a series of remarkable experiments, Robert Ornstein shows that it is difficult to maintain an “inner clock” explanation of the experience".

Discusses the justification for a minimal welfare state independent of political rhetoric from the right or the left.

In this strikingly original book, one of the leading scholars in the field focuses on the influential idea of deliberative democracy. Goodin examines the great challenge of how to implement the deliberative ideal among millions of people at once and comes up with a novel solution: 'democratic deliberation within'.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 23 (2003) 174-178 [Access article in PDF] Zen and the Kingdom of Heaven. By Tom Chetwynd. Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2001. 153 pp. Tom Chetwynd brings many strengths to his book of reflections on Zen and Christianity. Because his most obvious strength is his craft as a professional writer, he offers us a book that is well written, carefully organized, and a pleasure to read. He divides his (...) reflections into three parts: "Zen Experience," "Christian Meditation in the Light of Zen," and finally, "Christian Zen Practice." It is especially in the first and third parts that the author is particularly helpful for Christians engaged in interfaith dialogue.In part 1 Chetwynd's reflections on the Zen experience are autobiographical. He tells us that he came to Zen as a committed adult Christian who did not jettison his faith for another but rather labored to integrate his Christian faith and his Zen experience. Those of us who travel this very same path are familiar with the stages of Chetwynd's journey: in the first stage our attention is drawn to Zen by a random phrase in a book or by a friend's interest in Zen; then follows our first attempt to sit in a sesshin with others; then the experience of boredom, pain, and frustration, all of which give birth to the conviction that Zen might very well work for others but not for us. However, our first meeting with a charismatic roshi who inspires, encourages, and launches us back on the journey with the challenging and consoling words: "[You] can do it." These words help us both to ignore our fear and to sustain our resolve to sit with vigor to the last bell.What makes Chetwynd's experience so extraordinary and unique was the rapid opening of his mind. After his very first sitting, he tells us, he experienced his teacup "shining alone in empty space," and immediately following his first sesshin, Chetwynd reveals that his teacher, a Japanese monk, assured him that "he [the teacher] had nothing more to give [him/the student]." Chetwynd's experience very much reminds me of an incident that happened years ago in Tokyo. At a meeting with Kadowakii Roshi, he introduced me to a Mexican Jesuit who, the Roshi revealed, had experienced kensho during his first sesshin. I will always remember the Roshi's expression [End Page 174] of surprise and admiration as he uttered how wonderful and rare indeed was such an experience.Chetwynd is candid about the effect that the Zen experience has on his Christian faith: comparing his Zen experience to the latter, he confesses that his three years of theological study were "all for nothing"; he acknowledges that he believes he has received more insight from one week of Zen sitting than from the twenty-five years he practiced Christianity; he claims that while his Zen experience enables him to return to his Christian prayer and liturgy with new insight, it also makes him aware that while engaging in these spiritual exercises, he finds his heart is elsewhere. He goes on to reveal that he fears losing his faith because the idea of a godless universe "quite simply appall[s him]." Possibly adding to his quandary was Kyudo Roshi's reaction to Chetwynd's question about the value of the prayer of petition. On two occasions the author tells us that his teacher "chuckled" in response to his question about the prayer of petition. One would hope that in interreligious encounters with Christians, Zen teachers in their compassionate outreach would remember that what is amusing to them—the value of the prayer of petition and its opposite, a godless universe—is "quite simply appalling" to their Christian friends.Chetwynd's second part of the book, the story of Christian meditation in the light of the Zen experience, is extremely tentative. In it he builds a case for a number of possibilities: he suggests that the dharma of the Buddha is "not recognizably different" from the Kingdom of Heaven in Christian terminology; that the essential nature of the universe is not... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 23 (2003) 174-178 [Access article in PDF] Zen and the Kingdom of Heaven. By Tom Chetwynd. Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2001. 153 pp. Tom Chetwynd brings many strengths to his book of reflections on Zen and Christianity. Because his most obvious strength is his craft as a professional writer, he offers us a book that is well written, carefully organized, and a pleasure to read. He divides his (...) reflections into three parts: "Zen Experience," "Christian Meditation in the Light of Zen," and finally, "Christian Zen Practice." It is especially in the first and third parts that the author is particularly helpful for Christians engaged in interfaith dialogue.In part 1 Chetwynd's reflections on the Zen experience are autobiographical. He tells us that he came to Zen as a committed adult Christian who did not jettison his faith for another but rather labored to integrate his Christian faith and his Zen experience. Those of us who travel this very same path are familiar with the stages of Chetwynd's journey: in the first stage our attention is drawn to Zen by a random phrase in a book or by a friend's interest in Zen; then follows our first attempt to sit in a sesshin with others; then the experience of boredom, pain, and frustration, all of which give birth to the conviction that Zen might very well work for others but not for us. However, our first meeting with a charismatic roshi who inspires, encourages, and launches us back on the journey with the challenging and consoling words: "[You] can do it." These words help us both to ignore our fear and to sustain our resolve to sit with vigor to the last bell.What makes Chetwynd's experience so extraordinary and unique was the rapid opening of his mind. After his very first sitting, he tells us, he experienced his teacup "shining alone in empty space," and immediately following his first sesshin, Chetwynd reveals that his teacher, a Japanese monk, assured him that "he [the teacher] had nothing more to give [him/the student]." Chetwynd's experience very much reminds me of an incident that happened years ago in Tokyo. At a meeting with Kadowakii Roshi, he introduced me to a Mexican Jesuit who, the Roshi revealed, had experienced kensho during his first sesshin. I will always remember the Roshi's expression [End Page 174] of surprise and admiration as he uttered how wonderful and rare indeed was such an experience.Chetwynd is candid about the effect that the Zen experience has on his Christian faith: comparing his Zen experience to the latter, he confesses that his three years of theological study were "all for nothing"; he acknowledges that he believes he has received more insight from one week of Zen sitting than from the twenty-five years he practiced Christianity; he claims that while his Zen experience enables him to return to his Christian prayer and liturgy with new insight, it also makes him aware that while engaging in these spiritual exercises, he finds his heart is elsewhere. He goes on to reveal that he fears losing his faith because the idea of a godless universe "quite simply appall[s him]." Possibly adding to his quandary was Kyudo Roshi's reaction to Chetwynd's question about the value of the prayer of petition. On two occasions the author tells us that his teacher "chuckled" in response to his question about the prayer of petition. One would hope that in interreligious encounters with Christians, Zen teachers in their compassionate outreach would remember that what is amusing to them—the value of the prayer of petition and its opposite, a godless universe—is "quite simply appalling" to their Christian friends.Chetwynd's second part of the book, the story of Christian meditation in the light of the Zen experience, is extremely tentative. In it he builds a case for a number of possibilities: he suggests that the dharma of the Buddha is "not recognizably different" from the Kingdom of Heaven in Christian terminology; that the essential nature of the universe is not... (shrink)

Having an agreed-upon definition of character education would be useful for both researchers and practitioners in the field. However, even experts in character education disagree on how they would define it. We attempted to achieve greater conceptual clarity on this issue through a prototype analysis in which the features perceived as most central to character education were identified. In Study 1 (N = 77), we asked character education experts to enumerate features of character education. Based on these lists, we identified (...) 30 features. In Study 2 (N = 101), experts assessed which features were central to character education through a categorization task. In Study 3 (N = 166), we assessed the extent of centrality using scalar items. We conclude by offering practical advice for the development of future character education studies and programs rooted in what is deemed central to such programs. (shrink)

Philosophers who complain about the ‹demandingness’ of morality forget that a morality can make too few demands as well as too many. What we ought be seeking is an appropriately demanding morality. This article recommends a ‹moral satisficing’ approach to determining when a morality is ‹demanding enough’, and an institutionalized solution to keeping the demands within acceptable limits.

ABSTRACT After a productive start in the 1980s, laboratory history is now surprisingly neglected—not lab science, but the lab as social institution. To restart interest, I suggest that we see labs as period specific (early modern, modern, postmodern) and of a piece with each era's dominant social institutions and practices. In the modern era, for example, labs have become powerful and ubiquitous because their operating principles are those of the nation-state and its consumerist political economy. Their educational function is crucial: (...) labs have authority because they are an effective vehicle for educating en masse for life in modern states; they provide general entry to careers in scores of disciplines and a thousand occupations; and they embody prevailing ideals of a meritocracy of competence, transparency (through publication), and a universalistic logic of objectivity. An older microhistory of laboratory practices may thus be reborn as a systematic, macrosocial history of the lab. (shrink)

A healthy work-life balance has become increasingly important to people trying to cope with the pressures of contemporary society. This trend highlights the fallacy of assessing well-being in terms of finance alone; how much time we have matters just as much as how much money. The authors of this book have developed a novel way to measure 'discretionary time': time which is free to spend as one pleases. Exploring data from the US, Australia, Germany, France, Sweden and Finland, they show (...) that temporal autonomy varies substantially across different countries and under different living conditions. By calibrating how much control people have over their time, and how much they could have under alternative welfare, gender or household arrangements, this book offers a new perspective for comparative cross-national enquiries into the temporal aspects of human welfare. (shrink)

What general conclusions can be drawn about the reception of zymase, its relation to the larger shift from a protoplasm to an enzyme theory of life, and its status as a social phenomenon?The most striking and to me unexpected pattern is the close correlation between attitude toward zymase and professional background. The disbelief of the fermentation technologists, Will, Delbrück, Wehmer, and even Stavenhagen, was as sharp and unanimous as the enthusiasm of the immunologists and enzymologists, Duclaux, Roux, Fernback, and Bertrand, (...) and of Pfeffer, the experimental plant physiologist. Other skeptics—Voit, Kupffer, and Fischer—were conservatives in traditional fields. In all these cases it seems clear that professional commitments and outlook profoundly influenced the reception of zymase.In some cases there is a correlation with a specific earlier statement favoring the protoplasm theory or predicting a fermentation enzyme. Reynolds Green is a striking case of both. In 1893 he stated his belief that life processes in higher plants and fungi were identical, both being mediated by protoplasm.109 Thus he claimed that digestion was not carried out by enzymes, as in higher animals, but by the whole protoplasm, and so too fermentation in yeast: “All the metabolic processes must be carried out in the unicellular organism in the same mass of protoplasm.”110 But Green also insisted that there was no essential difference between “organized” and “unorganized ferments”; enzymes were simply more highly differentiated and specialized forms of primitive protoplasm. He spoke of “the alcoholic ferment” (that is, enzyme), and of intracellular enzymes—very advanced beliefs for 1893. Thus it is understandable why Green saw no reason to doubt his first negative results with yeast juice, and rushed into print. But it is also understandable that he persisted and soon became an outspoken advocate of Buchner's view; like Wroblewski and Pfeffer, he had already accepted the idea of an intracellular fermentation enzyme.The physiological chemists also fit the pattern in a special way. Physiological chemistry is generally regarded as the source of biochemistry; indeed, many early biochemists were trained in physiological chemistry, and imbibed there a progressive interest in enzymes and metabolism. It is not surprising, therefore, that on the whole Neumeister, Madfadyen, Wroblewski, and Loew accepted cell-free fermentation. But what is surprising, and significant, is the diversity of opinion in this group, from Abeles' living protoplasm to Wroblewski's organized array of active proteins. The feelings of the physiological chemists were mixed, and there was enough of the old protoplasm view in Macfadyen's and even Wroblewski's views to allow Buchner to see them as attacks on zymase. The ideas of physiological chemistry were also changing; the idea of protoplasm was already adjusting to the new interest in enzymes in the early 1890's. But in contrast to immunochemistry, the change in physiological chemistry was gradual, uneven, undramatic, and relatively invisible. For the new biochemistry, the tradition of physiological chemistry was the source of traditional conservatism as well as of new ideas of enzymes.In general, then, I claim that it was not experimental facts that determined attitudes toward zymase so much as previous commitments, experience, and expectations. Initially, at least, zymase was less a determinant of opinion than a touchstone of pre-existing opinion. Like a prism, it revealed the spectrum of existing attitudes toward vital phenomena.Also relevant here is the fact that the experimental evidence was entirely ambiguous; the interpretation of Buchner's experiments with antiseptics or dried yeast depended entirely on how far one was willing to stretch the scope of the terms “protoplasm” and “enzyme”. Likewise, how important one judged the instability of zymase to be, or the low level of in vitro activity, depended largely on one's point of view. There was no crucial experiment, no certain proof. Logically zymase could be regarded as protoplasm. A. Fischer did so in 1900;111 Macfadyen was still wavering in 1907;112 and Beijerinck was holding out as late as 1916.113 There were undoubtedly others. Besides the special case of Reynolds Green and the technologists, there are no recorded cases of conversion.But if there was no evidence to convert a dedicated protoplasmist, there was plenty to encourage a dedicated belief in the enzyme theory, and that, I believe, is precisely what happened. The arguments of Buchner et al in support of zymase had the greatest effect not on the protoplasmists but on those who were already predisposed toward the biochemical view. The zymase debate enabled the emerging group of biochemists to recognizethemselves as a group with a community of out-look and objectives; it brought the issue of protoplasm vs. enzyme into the open and gave it a specific and concrete issue on which to turn. The debate sharpened the biochemists' awareness that their point of view was becoming the new mainstream of biochemical thought.All this of course had an important secondary effect on those who opposed the new view, or who were not immediately concerned with it. After the zymase debate, it would have been almost impossible to ignore the new ideas; the dramatic and wide publicity the debate enjoyed would have made it difficult not to take sides. Buchner's successful defense of zymase itself became an important influence on opinion; the new movement had to be looked at with respect. But the primary effect of the debate, I assert, was on those who were already inclined to the new view. The outcome was not a mass conversion of individuals, nor the ejection of one idea by another. The sides probably did not change much; the real change was in the way each side regarded itself and its place in history. The zymase debate may perhaps best be regarded as a process of selection. Buchner's party became aware of itself as the new progressive point of view, while those holding the traditional view could no longer expound it publicly without appearing obstinate or old-fashioned. Thus the way was clear for the gradually wider establishment of the new ideas, especially among the new generation of biochemists. In this specific sense, the acceptance of zymase was a social phenomenon.This way of looking at the zymase debate also illuminates its coincidence with the emergence of biochemistry as a profession. The new professional trappings and organizations were the social manifestation of the new self-awareness gained from the zymase controversy. One of the most important effects on those disposed toward the new view was the awareness of an intellectual community and of the need to give that community social forms. The almost mythical importance of Buchner's “victory” over the old protoplasm theory that later became current is readily understandable. It was a useful ideology for a group anxious to assert the novelty of their approach, a novelty which they in fact felt quite keenly.But if the primary effect of the zymase controversy was on those predisposed to accept zymase, then obviously the success of zymase depended on the fact that change had already begun to occur. Indeed, one of the most striking, and again unexpected, results of this study is the extent to which the importance of enzymes was already recognized in the early 1890's. The new immunology clearly pointed the way. Macfadyen and Hans Buchner were looking for active proteins inside the cell in 1893. Reynolds Green, Wroblewski, and Pfeffer had all anticipated the discovery of a fermentation enzyme. Other discoveries in enzymology in the 1890's pointed the same way.114 Moreover, it is clear from this study that the old protoplams theory was adapting to the new discoveries concerning the importance of enzymes. The sidechains of the old protoplasm molecule were simply reinterpreted as enzymes, as in Wroblewski's theory, for example, or in Paul Ehrlich's extremely influential “sidechain theory” of antibody formation (1897). Despite the later views of Hopkins et al., the old protoplasm and the new enzyme theories were not irreconcilable; a continuity of development had already begun when zymase came so dramatically on the scene. Buchner himself observed that the difference between the two views had become largely verbal; in retrospect we might say, not verbal, but social and historical. The gap between the continuous change in ideas and the contemporary feeling of sharply discontnuous change is a measure of the elusive but real social and historical implications of the zymase debate, of the demise of an old establishment, and the emergence of a new.In retrospect, then, it is clear that a trend was already under way in various quarters when zymase appeared. But it was still a collection of isolated and dispersed events. The zymase controversy made the trend visible and gave it a dramatic unity. The debate influenced those who had already begun to change. It was so effective because things had begun to change and because it coincided with the direction of that trend. (shrink)

With their remarkable electoral successes, Green parties worldwide seized the political imagination of friends and foes alike. Mainstream politicians busily disparage them and imitate them in turn. This new book shows that 'greens' deserve to be taken more seriously than that. This is the first full-length philosophical discussion of the green political programme. Goodin shows that green public policy proposals are unified by a single, coherent moral vision - a 'green theory of value' - that is largely independent of the (...) `green theory of agency' dictating green political mechanisms, strategies and tactics on the one hand, and personal lifestyle recommendations on the other. The upshot is that we demand that politicians implement green public policies, and implement them completely, without committing ourselves to the other often more eccentric aspects of green doctrine that threaten to alienate so many potential supporters. (shrink)

Presentism states that everything is present. Crucial to our understanding of this thesis is how we interpret the ‘is’. Recently, several philosophers have claimed that on any interpretation presentism comes out as either trivially true or manifestly false. Yet, presentism is meant to be a substantive and interesting thesis. I outline in detail the nature of the problem and the standard interpretative options. After unfavourably assessing several popular responses in the literature, I offer an alternative interpretation that provides the desired (...) result. This interpretation is then used to clarify the distinction between ‘real change’ from mere variation and temporal relativisation. Reflecting on my solution, I try to diagnose the source of confusion over these issues. Then, building upon Fine’s distinction between ontic and factive presentism, I elucidate what the presentist thesis specifically concerns and how best to formalise it. In the process I distinguish a weak and strong version of the presentist thesis. Finally, I end by drawing out some limitations of the paper. (shrink)