들뢰즈는 죽음을 둘로 구분한다. 하나가 생물학적인 신체의 소멸로서의 ‘인칭적 죽음’이라면, 다른 하나는 기존의 자아 내지 인격이 붕괴 내지 와해됨으로써 새로운 개체 형성의 계기가 되는 ‘비인칭적’ 죽음이다. 들뢰즈의 강조점은 후자에 있다. 한 개체를 이전과는 전혀 다른 개체로 변화·생성시키는 계기가 되는 것은 오직 후자이기 때문이다. 그렇다면 결과적으로 인칭적 죽음을 자발적으로 택한 들뢰즈의 자살이라는 일화는 어떻게 해명되어야 하는가? 관련하여 하루미 오사키는 들뢰즈의 자살이라는 일화는 두 죽음이 상호 내적으로 결합될 필연성을 가질 수밖에 없음을 입증한다고 주장한다. 비인칭적 죽음에 생물학적 소멸이 전혀 관계하지 않는다면 그는 자살을 (...) 택할 이유가 없다. 반면 안드레 콜롬뱃은 들뢰즈의 자살을 순수한 사건으로서의 비인칭적 죽음이라고 해석한다. 그러나 하루미는 누락하고 있으나 콜롬뱃이 강조하는 바, 들뢰즈의 자살에 대한 논의는 두 종류의 죽음과 무관한 스피노자적 논의에서의 고찰을 필요로 한다. 본 논문은 이상의 두 주석가의 해석을 비교하고, 들뢰즈의 자살에 대한 스피노자적 해석 가능성을 제시한다. (shrink)

통상 죽음과 결부된 시간은 낫을 들고 쫒아오는 유령으로 그려진다. 이런 맥락에서 시간이란 태어남이라는 기점으로부터 죽음이라는 종점을 향해 쏘아진 화살의 형상을 갖기에, 인간의 유한성은 한층 부각된다. 반면 들뢰즈에게 죽음과 결부된 시간은 전적인 변환의 계기로서 고찰된다. 그에게 시간이란 수동적 자아의 부단한 ‘종합’의 산물이기에 각각의 종합의 단계들마다 우리에게 상이한 계기들을 제공하고 그 세 번째 국면에 이르러 시간은 개체가 나와 자아의 죽음을 경험하는 가장 급진적인 변화의 형식으로 기능한다. 세번째 종합에 상응하는 어떤 죽음의 체험이 있는 것이다. 이처럼 시간의 종합 속에서 한 개체를 이전과는 전혀 다른 (...) 개체로 변화·생성시키는 사건을 들뢰즈는 ‘비인칭적 죽음’이라고 명명한다. 이로써 들뢰즈는 역설적이게도, 삶 속에서의 죽음, 즉 삶 속에 현전화된 개체의 역동적인 발생운동을 죽음이라는 말로 명명한다. (shrink)

An exposition of Spinoza's views of the cause and cure of death. He holds death to be disruption of mind/body which need not involve becoming a corpse; amnesia counts. It follows that his criterion of personal identity includes memory, so Spinozistic immortality is impersonal. The cause of death is always something external, for nothing can destroy itself. (This principle, however, is not universally true; Spinoza was led to it by mistaken physics.) Suicide is irrational. Fear of (...) death is to be overcome by realization that since adequate ideas are eternal, to the extent that they consitute our minds we are eternal also. (But if so, isn't suicide rational after all? And since language depends on memory, the eternal understanding of adequate ideas is non-linguistic and non-symbolic; what then can it be?). (shrink)

We propose to analyze well-known cases of "imaginative resistance" from the philosophical literature (Gendler, Walton, Weatherson) as involving the inference that particular content should be attributed to either: (i) a character rather than the narrator or, (ii) an unreliable, irrational, opinionated, and/or morally deviant "first person" narrator who was originally perceived to be a typical impersonal, omniscient, "effaced" narrator. We model the latter type of attribution in terms of two independently motivated linguistic mechanisms: accommodation of a discourse referent (Lewis, (...) Stalnaker, Kamp) and 'cautious' updating as a model of non-cooperative information exchange (Eckardt). (shrink)

In this article I rethink death and mortality on the basis of birth and natality, drawing on the work of the Italian feminist philosopher Adriana Cavarero. She understands birth to be the corporeal event whereby a unique person emerges from the mother’s body into the common world. On this basis Cavarero reconceives death as consisting in bodily dissolution and re-integration into cosmic life. This impersonal conception of death coheres badly with her view that birth is never (...) exclusively material but always has ontological significance as the appearance of someone new and singular in the world of relations with others. This view of birth calls for a relational conception of death, which I develop in this article. On this conception, death is always collective, affecting all those with whom the one who dies has maintained relations: As such, our different deaths shade into one another. Moreover, because each person is unique in virtue of consisting of a unique web of relations with others, death always happens to persons as webs of relations. Death is relational in this way as a corporeal, and specifically biological, phenomenon, to which we are subject as bodily beings and as interdependent living organisms. I explore this with reference to Simone de Beauvoir’s memoir of her mother’s death from cancer. Finally I argue that, on this relational conception, death is something to be feared. (shrink)

Mark Johnston takes reality to be wholly objective or impersonal, and aims to show that the inevitability of death does not obliterate goodness in such a naturalistic world. Crucial to his argument is the claim that there are no persisting selves. After critically discussing Johnston's arguments, I set out a view of persons that shares Johnston's view that there are no selves, but disagrees about the prospects of goodness in a wholly impersonal world. On my view, a (...) wholly objective world is ontologically incomplete: Persons have irreducible first-person properties. My aim is to show that we can reject selves, but that we can retain persons and their essential first-person properties as ontologically significant. (shrink)

The aim of this book, by providing a set of conceptual tools drawn from critical theory, is to open up questions and new problems and new research agendas for the study of environmental politics.

Global Justice: The Basics is a straightforward and engaging introduction to the theoretical study and practice of global justice. It examines the key political themes and philosophical debates at the heart of the subject, providing a clear outline of the field and exploring: the history of its development the current state of play its ongoing interdisciplinary development. Using case studies from around the world which illustrate the importance of the debates at the heart of global justice, as well as activist (...) campaigns for global justice, the book examines a wide range of theoretical debates from thinkers worldwide making it ideal for those seeking a balanced introduction to global justice. (shrink)

COVID-19 has caused far-reaching humanitarian challenges. Amongst the emerging impacts of the pandemic is on the dynamics of human trafficking. This paper presents findings from a multi-methods study interrogating the impacts of COVID-19 on human trafficking in Sudan—a critical source, destination, and transit country. The analysis combines a systematic evidence review, semi-structured interviews, and a focus group with survivors, conducted between January and May of 2021. We find key risks have been exacerbated, and simultaneously, critical infrastructure for identifying victims, providing (...) support, and ensuring accountability of perpetrators has been impeded. Centrally, the co-occurrence of the pandemic and the democratic transition undercut the institutional and governance capacity, limiting the anti-trafficking response and exposing already vulnerable groups to increased risks of human trafficking. Findings point to increased vulnerabilities for individuals with one or more of the following identities: migrants, refugees, females, and informal labourers. (shrink)

Este artículo tiene por objeto destacar la relevancia de una noción de “muerte impersonal” en el horizonte de una indagación no antropocentrada de lo biopolítico. En tanto no se rige por la teleología del principio antrópico, la filosofía contemporánea considera lo impersonal como una resistencia al biopoder, aunque suele concentrarse en los avatares del concepto de Vida. Aquí, avanzamos en el examen de los rasgos de la muerte impersonal en dos pensadores cuyas obras resultan fundamentales para estas (...) líneas de trabajo contemporáneas. En Nietzsche, analizamos la cuestión de la “muerte libre” y la imagen de la ceniza, dando cuenta de las posibilidades que allí se vislumbran para una reivindicación de lo impersonal. Luego, subrayamos sus semejanzas y derivaciones en los conceptos blanchotianos de “momento deseado” y “tiempo muerto”. (shrink)

By tracing the genealogy of Lawrence Ferlinghetti's outlandish notion of the fourth person singular and its appropriation in The Logic of Sense, several keys concepts in Deleuze's thought such as the nonpersonal and pre-individual subjectivity can be rendered clearer to the understanding. While there is poetic licence in the use of the term by Ferlinghetti, the fourth person singular is heuristic for exploring the notion of free indirect speech and, more speculatively, the ideas of impersonal death and suicide. (...) The fourth person singular is thus a trope that sheds light on the ideas of humour, irony, lightness and becoming ‘without a verb’ in Deleuze's thought. Under close scrutiny is what Ferlinghetti designates as the ‘cool’ eyes of the fourth person singular. We shall work to differentiate these from so-called mad, Dada-esque ‘unblinking’ eyes. We shall ask how the poet in ‘obscenely seeing’ the impossible possibility of life can envision – perspicaciously – the immanent sense of death-in-life. From what standpoint does the poet gain access to the real? To consider this fully it is necessary to follow the Deleuzian interpretation of singularities as true transcendental events so as to clarify what gives life a ‘non-personal power, above individuals’. (shrink)

In this original and compelling book, Jeffrey P. Bishop, a philosopher, ethicist, and physician, argues that something has gone sadly amiss in the care of the dying by contemporary medicine and in our social and political views of death, as shaped by our scientific successes and ongoing debates about euthanasia and the "right to die"--or to live. __The Anticipatory Corpse: Medicine, Power, and the Care of the Dying__, informed by Foucault's genealogy of medicine and power as well as by (...) a thorough grasp of current medical practices and medical ethics, argues that a view of people as machines in motion--people as, in effect, temporarily animated corpses with interchangeable parts--has become epistemologically normative for medicine. The dead body is subtly anticipated in our practices of exercising control over the suffering person, whether through technological mastery in the intensive care unit or through the impersonal, quasi-scientific assessments of psychological and spiritual "medicine." The result is a kind of nihilistic attitude toward the dying, and troubling contradictions and absurdities in our practices. Wide-ranging in its examples, from organ donation rules in the United States, to ICU medicine, to "spiritual surveys," to presidential bioethics commissions attempting to define death, and to high-profile cases such as Terri Schiavo's, __The Anticipatory Corpse__ explores the historical, political, and philosophical underpinnings of our care of the dying and, finally, the possibilities of change. A ground-breaking work in bioethics, this book will provoke thought and argument for all those engaged in medicine, philosophy, theology, and health policy. "With extraordinary philosophical sophistication as well as knowledge of modern medicine, Bishop argues that the body that shapes the work of modern medicine is a dead body. He defends this claim decisively with with urgency. I know of no book that is at once more challenging and informative as __The Anticipatory Corpse. __To say this book is the most important one written in the philosophy of medicine in the last twenty-five years would not do it justice. This book is destined to change the way we think and, hopefully, practice medicine." --_Stanley Hauerwas, Duke Divinity School _ "Jeffrey Bishop carefully builds a detailed, scholarly case that medicine is shaped by its attitudes toward death. Clinicians, ethicists, medical educators, policy makers, and administrators need to understand the fraught relationship between clinical practices and death, and __The Anticipatory Corpse __is an essential text. Bishop's use of the writings of Michel Foucault is especially provocative and significant. This book is the closest we have to a genealogy of death." --_Arthur W. Frank, University of Calgary _ "Jeffrey Bishop has produced a masterful study of how the living body has been placed within medicine's metaphysics of efficient causality and within its commitment to a totalizing control of life and death, which control has only been strengthened by medicine's taking on the mantle of a bio-psycho-socio-spiritual model. This volume's treatment of medicine's care of the dying will surely be recognized as a cardinal text in the philosophy of medicine." --_H. Tristram Engelhardt, Jr., Rice University, Baylor College of Medicine_. (shrink)

this essay analyzes Vladimir Jankélévitch’s work on death pointing out, in the vast thought of the twentieth century, its original and sharply problematic contribution. if death is generally seen as the perimeter that provides life with sense and autenticity (Heidegger, Lévinas), or more traditionally as the threshold that leads to a salvific other world, Jankélévitch first of all dismantles any reassuring strategy and underlines the elusiveness of death itself, its constituting a “totally other order” that escapes every (...) human category. As a consequence, if on the one hand the philosopher shows how every life has an “own death” that makes every life totally unique, on the other hand he highlights how the elusiveness of death delivers life, any life, to an unavoidable impropriety, which breaks through its individual and personal dimension. (shrink)

Breaking off the ordinary flow of experience, the passions create a state of exception. In their suddenness and intensity, they map a personal world, fix and qualify our attention, and impel our actions. Outraged anger drives us to write laws that will later be enforced by impersonal justice. Intense grief at the death of someone in our life discloses the contours of that life to us. Wonder spurs scientific inquiry. The strong current of Western thought that idealizes a (...) dispassionate world has ostracized the passions as quaint, even dangerous. Intense states have come to be seen as symptoms of pathology. A fondness for irony along with our civic ideal of tolerance lead us to prefer the diluted emotional life of feelings and moods. Demonstrating enormous intellectual originality and generosity, Philip Fisher meditates on whether this victory is permanent-and how it might diminish us. From Aristotle to Hume to contemporary biology, Fisher finds evidence that the passions have defined a core of human nature no less important than reason or desire. Traversing the Iliad, King Lear, Moby Dick, and other great works, he discerns the properties of the high-spirited states we call the passions. Are vehement states compatible with a culture that values private, selectively shared experiences? How do passions differ from emotions? Does anger have an opposite? Do the passions give scale, shape, and significance to our experience of time? Is a person incapable of anger more dangerous than someone who is irascible? In reintroducing us to our own vehemence, Fisher reminds us that it is only through our strongest passions that we feel the contours of injustice, mortality, loss, and knowledge. It is only through our personal worlds that we can know the world. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Four Prose PoemsRosmarie Waldrop (bio)Conversation 9 On Varieties of OblivionAfter bitter resistance the river disappears into the night, he says. Washes the daily war out into tides of wounded dream. I know no word to dive from, the dark so dense, so almost without dimension, swallowing the sounds back into eclipse while making love to my body. Fish smell travels the regions of sleep, westward like the dawn. Then (...) I wake, too early to bring anything back, unsure of what I want, terrified I’ll fail to seize it by a hair.We need a grand decor for oblivion, she says. But the sea takes all with equal tenderness. As the past does. Already it suffuses the present with more inclusive tonalities. Not constraining it in melodic sequence, but setting a rooster next to the silence that molds my words. Or injured flesh. Impersonal. Only an animal could be so.An avatar of the holy ghost, he chuckles. Or the angel of the annunciation beating his wings against a door slammed shut. Behind it, love already plays the organ. With or without him. He is invisible because we have rejected his message.On old photos, she says, I see a stranger standing in my skin. As if an apple could fall too far from the tree. Yet she is called my past and functions as near-certainty. The way some beliefs are exempt from doubt, are as it were the hinges on which my doubts and questions turn. So that I seem the same to you while I’ve already moved through the next door. From left to right. [End Page 63]Conversation 10 On SeparationMy separation from the landscape started even earlier, she says. In my mother’s mirror, which staged dialectic and confused my instincts. There are few trains in the thick smoke, the run-down station, more waste of grain, more images lost. I carry a mirror in my cortex, but cannot inhabit my womb. Or the silence that is the matter between parts of speech.A pebble in an eddy, he says, reveals the course of the current. Sometimes it’s a small difference that makes our closeness arch, for a moment, into a solid vault, a space thick with birdsong and green sun. Then it again slips through my fingers. I search for a word, and nothing exists but the gap beckoning me to some strange horizon without event.Only out of body could we be out of the panic of time, she says. Momentarily bracket it maybe, in illness, degrees of withdrawal. But hours reproduce, days go by consumed by heat, the flimmer above the lake. I can’t distinguish gravity from other distortions of space, or sign from symbol. My sense of time begins six billion years ago, when the fish stretched their fins onto dry land though the sea groaned in their belly, or forty, with breasts and monthly bleeding. The now always already darkening, the way a sentence anticipates the period it will stiffen in.The galaxies avoid collapsing onto each other by virtue of their recessional motion, he says. Father and son walk away from the bed in opposite directions. But sweat clings to our names, the secretions of closeness. As if we were submerged in one and the same sleep. If I withdraw into more impermeable regions, your shadow grows. All respiratory passages lead to you. As if you were the certainty the game of doubting presupposes. The niggling voice of death. [End Page 64]Conversation 11 On DepthIt would take more than a pebble, she says, to sound your undertones. Something slips away as you speak, tense with life, like a startled beast in the woods. Is it a lizard, snake, or unused thought that runs alongside your words, while the rustling vines close over the trace of flight?Isn’t this a case, he says, of deep breathing pulled into spasms of interpretation the way children are pulled into the future by the very gravity of their innocence. And with a speed unlimited by the young space. The joints between future and present swell and sweep apart whole galaxies, but even the... (shrink)

In her essay collection First, Second, and Other Selves: Essays on Friendship and Personal Identity, well-known scholar of ancient philosophy Jennifer Whiting gathers her previously published essays taking Aristotle's theories on friendship as a springboard to engage with contemporary philosophical work on personal identity and moral psychology. Whiting examines three themes throughout the collection, the first being psychic contingency, or the belief that the psychological structures characteristic of human beings may in fact vary, not just from one cultural context to (...) another, but also from one individual to another. The second theme is the belief that friendship informs an understanding of the nature of the self, an idea that springs from Whiting's uncommon reading of Aristotle's writings on friendship. Specifically, Whiting explains a scenario in which a "virtuous agent" adopts a kind of impersonal attitude both towards herself and towards her "character" friends, loving both because they are virtuous; this scenario ties in with an examination of the Aristotelian concept of the ideal friend as an "other self," or a friendship that evolves from character rather than ego, as well as Whiting's meditation on whether or not a virtuous individual should have a "special" sort of concern for her own future self, distinct in kind from the concern that she has for others. The third theme is that of rational egoism, a concept that Whiting critiques, especially in the context of Aristotle's eudaimonism. The central tenet of the collection is the message that taking "ethocentric" attitudes both towards ourselves and towards our friends sheds light on the nature of personal identity and helps to combat ethnocentric and other objectionable forms of bias, a message that is becoming increasingly urgent in light of the recent deaths of Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown. (shrink)

The rise of modern science and the proclaimed 'death' of God in the nineteenth century led to a radical questioning of divine action and authorship - Bultmann's celebrated 'demythologizing'. Remythologizing Theology moves in another direction that begins by taking seriously the biblical accounts of God's speaking. It establishes divine communicative action as the formal and material principle of theology, and suggests that interpersonal dialogue, rather than impersonal causality, is the keystone of God's relationship with the world. This original (...) contribution to the theology of divine action and authorship develops a new vision of Christian theism. It also revisits several long-standing controversies such as the relations of God's sovereignty to human freedom, time to eternity, and suffering to love. Groundbreaking and thought-provoking, it brings theology into fruitful dialogue with philosophy, literary theory, and biblical studies"--Provided by publisher. (shrink)

Friendship, in its nature, purpose, and effects, has been an important concern of philosophy since antiquity. It was of particular significance in the life of Gilles Deleuze, one of the most original and influential philosophers of the late twentieth century. Taking L'Abécédaire de Gilles Deleuze -- an eight-hour video interview that was intended to be aired only after Deleuze's death -- as a key source, Charles J. Stivale examines the role of friendship as it appears in Deleuze's work and (...) life. Stivale develops a zigzag methodology practiced by Deleuze himself to explore several concepts as they relate to friendship and to discern how friendship shifts, slips, and creates movement between Deleuze and specific friends. The first section of this study discusses the elements of creativity, pedagogy, and literature that appear implicitly and explicitly in his work. The second section focuses on Deleuze's friendships with Foucault, Derrida, Claire Parnet, and Félix Guattari and reveals his conception of friendship as an ultimately impersonal form of intensity that goes beyond personal relationships. Stivale's analysis offers an intimate view into the thought of one of the greatest thinkers of our time. (shrink)

continent. 2.2 (2012): 66–75 ~*~ We’re Doomed. Pessimism is the night-side of thought, a melodrama of the futility of the brain, a poetry written in the graveyard of philosophy. Pessimism is a lyrical failure of philosophical thinking, each attempt at clear and coherent thought, sullen and submerged in the hidden joy of its own futility. The closest pessimism comes to philosophical argument is the droll and laconic “We’ll never make it,” or simply: “We’re doomed.” Every effort doomed to failure, every (...) project doomed to incompletion, every life doomed to be unlived, every thought doomed to be unthought. Pessimism is the lowest form of philosophy, frequently disparaged and dismissed, merely the symptom of a bad attitude. No one ever needs pessimism, in the way that one needs optimism to inspire one to great heights and to pick oneself up, in the way one needs constructive criticism, advice and feedback, inspirational books or a pat on the back. No one needs pessimism, though I like to imagine the idea of a pessimist activism. No one needs pessimism, and yet everyone—without exception—has, at some point in their lives, had to confront pessimism, if not as a philosophy then as a grievance—against one’s self or others, against one’s surroundings or one’s life, against the state of things or the world in general. There is little redemption for pessimism, and no consolation prize. Ultimately, pessimism is weary of everything and of itself. Pessimism is the philosophical form of disenchantment—disenchantment as chanting, a chant, a mantra, a solitary, monophonic voice rendered insignificant by the intimate immensity surrounding it. In pessimism, the first axiom is a long, low, funereal sigh. ~*~ We’re Still Doomed. No one has time for pessimism. After all, there are only so many hours in a day. Whatever our temperament, happy or sad, engaged or disengaged, we know pessimism when we hear it. The pessimist is usually understood as the complainer, forever pointing out what is wrong with the world without ever once offering a solution. But more often than not pessimists are the quietest of philosophers, submerging their own sighs within the lethargy of discontent. What little sound it makes is of interest to no one—“I’ve heard it all before,” “tell me something I don’t know,” sound and fury, signifying nothing. In raising problems without solutions, in posing questions without answers, in retreating to the hermetic, cavernous abode of complaint, pessimism is guilty of that most inexcusable of Occidental crimes—the crime of not pretending it’s for real. Pessimism fails to live up to the most basic tenet of philosophy—the “as if.” Think as if it will be helpful, act as if it will make a difference, speak as if there is something to say, live as if you are not, in fact, being lived by some murmuring non-entity both shadowy and muddied. Had it more self-assurance and better social skills, pessimism would turn its disenchantment into a religion, possibly calling itself The Great Refusal. But there is a negation in pessimism that refuses even such a Refusal, an awareness that, from the start, it has already failed, and that the culmination of all that is, is that all is for naught. Pessimism tries very hard to present itself in the low, sustained tones of a Requiem Mass, or the tectonic rumbling of Tibetan chant. But it frequently lets loose dissonant notes at once plaintive and pathetic. Often, its voice cracks, its weighty words abruptly reduced to mere shards of guttural sound. ~*~ Maybe It’s Not So Bad, After All. If we know pessimism when we hear it, this is because we’ve heard it all before—and we didn’t need to hear it in the first place. Life is hard enough. What you need is a change of attitude, a new outlook, a shift in perspective... a cup of coffee. If we have no ears for pessimism, this is because it is always reducible to something as reliably mutable as a voice. If pessimism is so frequently disparaged, it is because it brings everyone down, determined as it is to view each day as a bad day, if only by virtue of the fact that it is not yet a bad day. For pessimism the world is brimming with negative possibility, the collision of a bad mood with an impassive world. In fact, pessimism is the result of a confusion between the world and a statement about the world, a confusion that also prevents it from fully entering the hallowed halls of philosophy. If pessimism is so often dismissed, this is because it is often impossible to separate a “bad mood” from a philosophical proposition (and do not all philosophies stem from a bad mood?) The very term “pessimism” suggests a school of thought, a movement, even a community. But pessimism always has a membership of one—maybe two. Ideally, of course, it would have a membership of none, with only a scribbled, illegible note left behind by someone long forgotten. But this seems unrealistic, though one can always hope. ~*~ Anatomy of Pessimism. Though it may locate itself at the margins of philosophy, pessimism is as much subject to philosophical analysis as any other form of thought. Pessimism’s lyricism of failure gives it the structure of music. What time is to the music of sorrow, reason is to a philosophy of the worst. Pessimism’s two major keys are moral and metaphysical pessimism, its subjective and objective poles, an attitude towards the world and a claim about the world. For moral pessimism, it is better not to have been born at all; for metaphysical pessimism, this is the worst of all possible worlds. For moral pessimism the problem is the solipsism of human beings, the world made in our own image, a world-for-us. For metaphysical pessimism, the problem is the solipsism of the world, objected and projected as a world-in-itself. Both moral and metaphysical pessimism are compromised philosophically; moral pessimism by its failure to locate the human within a larger context, and metaphysical pessimism by its failure to recognize the complicity in the very claim of realism. This is how pessimism makes its music of the worst, a generalized misanthropy without the anthropos . Pessimism crystallizes around this futility—it is its amor fati , rendered as musical form. ~*~ Melancholy of Anatomy. There is a logic of pessimism that is fundamental to its suspicion of philosophical system. Pessimism involves a statement about a condition . In pessimism each statement boils down to an affirmation or a negation, just as any condition boils down to the best or the worst. With Schopenhauer, that arch-pessimist, the thinker for whom the philosopher and the curmudgeon perfectly overlap, we see a no-saying to the worst, a no-saying that secretly covets a yes-saying (through asceticism, mysticism, quietism), even if this hidden yes-saying is a horizon at the limits of comprehension. With Nietzsche comes the pronouncement of a Dionysian pessimism, a pessimism of strength or joy, a yes-saying to the worst, a yes-saying to this world as it is. And with Cioran yet another variation, futile yet lyrical, a no-saying to the worst, and a further no-saying to the possibility of any other world, in here or out there. With Cioran one approaches, but never reaches, an absolute no-saying, a studied abandonment of pessimism itself. The logic of pessimism moves through three refusals: a no-saying to the worst (refusal of the world-for-us, or Schopenhauer’s tears); a yes-saying to the worst (refusal of the world-in-itself, or Nietzsche’s laughter); and a no-saying to the for-us and the in-itself (a double refusal, or Cioran’s sleep). Crying, laughing, sleeping—what other responses are adequate to a life that is so indifferent? ~*~ Cosmic Pessimism. Both moral and metaphysical pessimism point to another kind, a pessimism that is neither subjective nor objective, neither for-us nor in-itself, and instead a pessimism of the world-without-us. We could call this a cosmic pessimism ... but this sounds too majestic, too full of wonder, too much the bitter aftertaste of the Great Beyond. Words falter. And so do ideas. And so we have a cosmic pessimism, a pessimism that is first and last a pessimism about cosmos , about the necessity and possibility of order. The contours of cosmic pessimism are a drastic scaling-up or scaling-down of the human point of view, the unhuman orientation of deep space and deep time, and all of this shadowed by an impasse, a primordial insignificance, the impossibility of ever adequately accounting for one’s relationship to thought—all that remains of pessimism is the desiderata of affects—agonistic, impassive, defiant, reclusive, filled with sorrow and flailing at that architectonic chess match called philosophy, a flailing that pessimism tries to raise to the level of an art form (though what usually results is slapstick). ~*~ Song of Futility. An ethics of futility pervades pessimism. Futility, however, is different from fatality, and different again from simple failure (though failure is never simple). Failure is a breakage within the heart of relations, a fissure between cause and effect, a fissure hastily covered over by trying and trying again. With failure, there is always plenty of blame to go around; it’s not my fault, it’s a technical difficulty, it’s a miscommunication. For the pessimist, failure is a question of “when,” not “if”—failure as a metaphysical principle. Everything withers and passes into an obscurity blacker than night, everything from the melodramatic decline of a person’s life to the banal flickering moments that constitute each day. Everything that is done undone, everything said or known destined for a kind of stellar oblivion. When scaled up in this way, failure becomes fatality. Fatality is the hermeticism of cause and effect. In fatality, everything you do, whatever you do, always leads to a certain end, and ultimately to the end—though that end, or the means to that end, remain shrouded in obscurity. Nothing you do makes a difference because everything you do makes a difference. Hence the effects of your actions are hidden from you, even as you deceive yourself into thinking that, at last, this time you will outwit the order of things. By having a goal, planning ahead, and thinking things through carefully, we attempt, in a daily Prometheanism, to turn fatality to our advantage, to gain a glimpse of an order that seems buried deeper and deeper in the fabric of the universe. But even fatality has its comforts. The chain of cause and effect may be hidden from us, but that’s just because disorder is the order we don’t yet see; it’s just complex, distributed, and requires advanced mathematics. Fatality still clings to the sufficiency of everything that exists... When fatality relinquishes even this idea, it becomes futility. Futility arises out of the grim suspicion that, behind the shroud of causality we drape over the world, there is only the indifference of what exists or doesn’t exist; whatever you do ultimately leads to no end, an irrevocable chasm between thought and world. Futility transforms the act of thinking into a zero-sum game. ~*~ Song of the Worst. At the center of pessimism lies the term pessimus , “the worst,” a term as relative as it is absolute. The worst is about as bad as it gets, “the worst” as “the best” in disguise, shrouded by the passage of time or the twists and turns of fortune. For the pessimist, “the worst” is the propensity for suffering that gradually occludes each living moment, until it eclipses it entirely, overlapping perfectly in death... which, for the pessimist, is no longer “the worst.” Pessimism is marked by an unwillingness to move beyond “the worst,” something only partially attributable to a lack in motivation. In pessimism “the worst” is the ground that gives way beneath every existent—things could be worse, and , things could be better. “The worst” invariably implies a value judgment, one made based on scant evidence and little experience; in this way, pessimism’s greatest nemesis is its moral orientation. Pessimism’s propositions have all the gravitas of a bad joke. Perhaps this is why the true optimists are the most severe pessimists—they are optimists that have run out of options. They are almost ecstatically inundated by the worst. Such an optimism is the only possible outcome of a prolonged period of suffering, physical or metaphysical, intellectual or spiritual. But does this not also describe all the trials and tribulations of each day—in short, of “life?” It seems that sooner or later we are all doomed to become optimists of this sort (the most depressing of thoughts...) ~*~ Song of Doom. Rather than serving as a cause for despair, gloom and doom are the forms of consolation for any pessimist philosophy. Neither quite affects nor quite concepts, gloom and doom transform pessimism into a mortification of philosophy. Doom is not just the sense that all things will turn out badly, but that all things inevitably come to an end, irrespective of whether or not they really do come to an end. What emerges from doom is a sense of the unhuman as an attractor, a horizon towards which the human is fatally drawn. Doom is humanity given over to unhumanity in an act of crystalline self-abnegation. Gloom is not simply the anxiety that precedes doom. Gloom is literally atmospheric, climate as much as impression, and if people are also gloomy, this is simply the by-product of an anodyne atmosphere that only incidentally involves human beings. Gloom is more climatological than psychological, the stuff of dim, hazy, overcast skies, of ruins and overgrown tombs, of a misty, lethargic fog that moves with the same languorousness as our own crouched and sullen listening to a disinterested world. In a sense, gloom is the counterpoint to doom—what futility is to the former, fatality is to the latter. Doom is marked by temporality—all things precariously drawn to their end—whereas gloom is the austerity of stillness, all things sad, static, and suspended, a meandering smoke hovering over cold lichen stones and damp fir trees. If doom is the terror of temporality and death, then gloom is the horror of a hovering stasis that is life. At times I like to imagine that this realization alone is the thread that connects the charnel ground Aghori and the graveyard poets. ~*~ Song of Spite. There is an intolerance in pessimism that knows no bounds. In pessimism spite begins by fixing on a particular object of spite—someone one hardly knows, or someone one knows too well; a spite for this person or a spite for all of humanity; a spectacular or a banal spite; a spite for a noisy neighbor, a yapping dog, a battalion of strollers, the meandering idiot walking in front of you on their smart phone, large loud celebrations, traumatic injustices anywhere in the world regurgitated as media blitz, spite for the self-absorbed and overly performative people talking way too loud at the table next to you, technical difficulties and troubleshooting, the reduction of everything to branding, spite of the refusal to admit one’s own errors, of self-help books, of people who know absolutely everything and make sure to tell you, of all people, all living beings, all things, the world, the spiteful planet, the inanity of existence... Spite is the motor of pessimism because it is so egalitarian, so expansive, it runs amok, stumbling across intuitions that can only half-heartedly be called philosophical. Spite lacks the confidence and the clarity of hatred, but it also lacks the almost cordial judgment of dislike. For the pessimist, the smallest detail can be an indication of a metaphysical futility so vast and funereal that it eclipses pessimism itself—a spite that pessimism carefully places beyond the horizon of intelligibility, like the experience of dusk, or like the phrase, “it is raining jewels and daggers.” ~*~ Song of Sleep. A paraphrase of Schopenhauer: what death is for the organism, sleep is for the individual. Pessimists sleep not because they are depressed, but because for them sleep is a form of ascetic practice. Sleep is the askesis of pessimism. If, while sleeping, we have a bad dream, we abruptly wake up, and suddenly the horrors of the night vanish. There is no reason to think that the same does not happen with the bad dream we call “life.” ~*~ Song of Sorrow. Nietzsche, commenting on pessimism, once castigated Schopenhauer for taking things too lightly. He writes: ...Schopenhauer, though a pessimist, really —played the flute. Every day, after dinner: one should read his biography on that. And incidentally: a pessimist, one who denies God and the world but comes to a stop before morality—who affirms morality and plays the flute... what? Is that really—a pessimist? We know that Schopenhauer did possess a collection of instruments, and we also know that Nietzsche himself composed music. There is no reason to think that either of them would ever banish music from the Republic of philosophy. But Nietzsche’s jibes at Schopenhauer are as much about music as they are about pessimism. For the pessimist who says no to everything and yet finds comfort in music, the no-saying of pessimism can only be a weak way of saying yes—the weightiest statement undercut by the flightiest of replies. The least that Schopenhauer could’ve done is to play the bass. I’m not a big fan of the flute, or, for that matter, wind instruments generally. But what Nietzsche forgets is the role that the flute has historically played in Greek tragedy. In tragedy, the flute ( aulos ) is not an instrument of levity and joy, but of solitude and sorrow. The Greek aulos not only expresses the grief of tragic loss, but it does so in a way that renders weeping and singing inseparable from each other. The classicist Nicole Loraux calls this the mourning voice . Set apart from the more official civic rituals of funerary mourning, the mourning voice of Greek tragedy constantly threatens to dissolve song into wailing, music into moaning, and the voice into a primordial, disarticulate anti-music. The mourning voice delineates all the forms of suffering—tears, weeping, sobbing, wailing, moaning, and the convulsions of thought reduced to an elemental unintelligibility. In the collapsed space between the voice that speaks and the voice that sings, pessimism discovers its mourning voice. Pessimism: the failure of sound and sense, the disarticulation of phone and logos . Have we rescued Schopenhauer from Nietzsche? Probably not. Perhaps Schopenhauer played the flute to remind himself of the real function of the mourning voice—sorrow, sighs, and moaning rendered indistinguishable from music, the crumbling of the human into the unhuman. Failure par excellence of pessimism. ~*~ Song of Nothing. In Buddhist thought, the First Noble Truth of existence is encapsulated in the Pali term dukkha , conventionally translated as “suffering,” “sorrow,” or “misery.” The Buddhist teachings are clear, however, that this is an objective claim, and not simply one point of view among others. Existence is suffering and sorrow—and yet this is not, the teachings tell us, a pessimistic attitude. It is likely that Schopenhauer, reading the Buddhist texts available to him, recognized some filiation with the concept of dukkha . But dukkha is a multi-faceted term. There is, certainly, dukkha in the usual sense of the suffering, strife, and loss associated with living a life. But this is, in turn, dependent on the finitude and temporality of dukkha , existence as determined by impermanence and imperfection. And this ultimately points to the way in which both suffering and finitude are grounded by the paradoxical groundlessness of dukkha as a metaphysical principle—the insubstantiality and the emptiness of all that is. Beyond what is worse to me, beyond a world ordered for the worst, there is the emptiness of dukkha as an impersonal suffering... the tears of the cosmos. In this context, it is easy to see how Schopenhauer’s pessimism attempts to compress all the aspects of dukkha into a nothingness at the core of existence, a Willlessness coursing through the Will. Though one thing for certain is that with Schopenhauer we do not find the “ever-smiling” countenance of Buddhism—or do we? The texts of the Pali Canon also contain lists of the different types of happiness—including the happiness of renunciation and the strange happiness of detachment. But Buddhism considers even the different types of happiness as part of dukkha , in this final sense of nothingness or emptiness. Perhaps Schopenhauer understood Buddhism better than he is usually given credit for. Thus the experiment of Schopenhauer’s philosophy—the point at which a Western pessimus and an Eastern dukkha overlap or exchange glances. Empty sorrow, a lyricism of indifference. The result is a strange, and ultimately untenable, nocturnal form of Buddhism. ~*~ Cioran once called music a “physics of tears.” If this is true, then perhaps metaphysics is its commentary. Or its apology. ~*~ Pessimism would be more mystical were it not for its defeatism. Mysticism is much too proactive for the pessimist, and pessimism too impassive even for the mystic. At the same time, there is something enviable about mysticism—despite its sufferings. There is a sense in which pessimists are really failed mystics. ~*~ You, the Night, and the Music. In a suggestive passage, Schopenhauer once noted that, “music is the melody to which the world is the text." Given Schopenhauer’s view on life—that life is suffering, that human life is absurd, that the nothingness before my birth is equal to the nothingness after my death—given all this, one wonders what kind of music Schopenhauer had in mind when he described music as the melody to which the world is text—was it opera, a Requiem Mass, a madrigal, or perhaps a drinking song? Or something like Eine kleine Nachtmusik , a little night music for the twilight of thought, a sullen nocturne for the night-side of logic, an era of sad wings sung by a solitary banshee. Perhaps the music Schopenhauer had in mind is music eliminated to non-music. A whisper would suffice. Perhaps a sigh of fatigue or resignation, perhaps a moan of despair or sorrow. Perhaps a sound just articulate enough that it could be heard to dissipate. ~*~ Teach me to laugh through tears. ~*~ Pessimism always falls short of being philosophical. My back aches, my knees hurt, I couldn’t sleep last night, I’m stressed-out, and I think I’m finally coming down with something. Pessimism abjures all pretenses towards system—towards the purity of analysis and the dignity of critique. We didn’t really think we could figure it out, did we? It was just passing time, taking a piss, something to do, a bold gesture put forth in all its fragility, according to rules that we have agreed to forget that we made up in the first place. Every thought marked by a shadowy incomprehension that precedes it, and a futility that undermines it. That pessimism speaks, in whatever voice, is the singing testimony to this futility and this incomprehension—take a chance and step outside, lose some sleep and say you tried... ~*~ Is there a music of pessimism? And would such a music be audible? ~*~ The impact of music on a person compels them to put their experience into words. When this fails, the result is a faltering of thought and language that is itself a kind of music. Cioran writes: “Music is everything. God himself is nothing more than an acoustic hallucination.” ~*~ If a thinker like Schopenhauer has any redeeming qualities, it is that he identified the great lie of Western culture—the preference for existence over non-existence. As he notes: “If we knocked on the graves and asked the dead whether they would like to rise again, they would shake their heads.” In Western cultures it is commonly accepted that one celebrates birth and mourns death. But there must be a mistake here. Wouldn’t it make more sense to mourn birth and celebrate death? Strange though, because the mourning of birth would, presumably, last the entirety of that person’s life, so that mourning and living would the be same thing. ~*~ To the musical idea of the harmony of the universe corresponds the philosophical principle of sufficient reason. Like the music of mourning, pessimism gives voice to the inevitable breakdown of word and song. In this way, music is the overtone of thought. ~*~ The Patron Saints of Pessimism. The patron saints of pessimism watch over suffering. Laconic and sullen, the patron saints of pessimism never seem to do a good job at protecting, interceding, or advocating for those who suffer. Perhaps they need us more than we need them. Lest we forget, there do exist patron saints of philosophy, but their stories are not happy ones. There is, for instance, the fourth century Saint Catherine of Alexandria, or Catherine of the Wheel, named after the torture device used on her. A precocious fourteen year old scholar, Catherine was subject to continual persecution. After all forms of torture failed—including the “breaking wheel”—the emperor finally settled for her decapitation, a violent yet appropriate reminder of the protector of philosophers. There are also patron saints of music and musicians, but theirs too are sad stories. In the second century, Saint Cecilia was also subject to persecution and torture. As she knelt to receive the blade that would separate her head from her body, she ardently sang a song to God. It took three attempts before she was fully decapitated, all the while she continued, perhaps miraculously, to sing. Does pessimism not deserve its own patron saints, even if they are unworthy of martyrdom? But in our search, even the most ardent nay-sayers frequently lapse into brief moments of enthusiasm—Pascal’s love of solitude, Leopardi’s love of poetry, Schopenhauer’s love of music, Nietzsche’s love of Schopenhauer, and so on. Should one then focus on individual works of pessimism? We could include Kierkegaard’s trilogy of horror— Sickness Unto Death , The Concept of Dread , and Fear and Trembling —but all these are undermined by their fabricated and unreliable authors. Besides, how can one separate the pessimist from the optimist in works like Unamuno’s The Tragic Sense of Life , Shestov’s Postetas Clavium , or Edgar Saltus’ under-read The Philosophy of Disenchantment ? Even in cases where the entire corpus of an author is pessimistic, the project always seems incomplete—witness Cioran’s trajectory, from his first book, On the Heights of Despair , to the last unpublished notebooks of acrid and taut aphorisms. And this is to say nothing of literary pessimism, from Goethe’s sorrowful Werther, to Dostoevsky’s underground man, to Pessoa’s disquiet scribbler; Baudelaire’s spleen and ennui, the mystical Satanism of Huysmans and Strindberg, the hauntologies of Mário de Sá-Carniero, Izumi Kyoka, H.P. Lovecraft, grumpy old Beckett... even the great pessimist comedians. All that remains are singular, perhaps anomalous statements of pessimism, a litany of quotes and citations crammed into fortune cookies. Patron saints are traditionally named after a locale, either a place of birth or of a mystical experience. Perhaps the better approach is to focus on the places where pessimists were forced to live out their pessimism—Schopenhauer facing an empty Berlin lecture hall, Nietzsche mute and convalescent at the home of his sister, Wittgenstein the relinquished professor and solitary gardener, Cioran grappling with Alzheimer’s in his tiny writing alcove in the Latin Quarter. ~*~ There’s a ghost that grows inside of me, damaged in the making, and there’s a hunt sprung from necessity, elliptical and drowned. Where the moving quiet of our insomnia offers up each thought, there’s a luminous field of grey inertia, and obsidian dreams burnt all the way down. ~*~ If pessimism has any pedagogical value, it is that the failure of pessimism as a philosophy is inextricably tied to the failure of pessimism as voice. I read the following, from Shestov’s The Apotheosis of Groundlessness : When a person is young he writes because it seems to him he has discovered a new almighty truth which he must make haste to impart to forlorn humankind. Later, becoming more modest, he begins to doubt his truths: and then he tries to convince himself. A few more years go by, and he knows he was mistaken all round, so there is no need to convince himself. Nevertheless he continues to write, because he is not fit for any other work, and to be accounted a superfluous person is so horrible. (shrink)

Whereas the Upanishads contain much which is, strictly speaking, of little interest to the historian of Indian thought, the Pre-Upanishadic texts are not completely devoid of passages which are of special importance for anyone who endeavours to trace the origin and oldest form of the main texts of classical Indian philosophy. Too often the difference between Upanishads and Pre-Upanishadic literature has been exaggerated ; too often the philosophical importance of the ritualistic speculations contained in the Brahmanas has been undervalued ; (...) too often these texts have been neglected by the compilers of handbooks. One of those points which have not always received due attention concerns the theoretic foundation of the belief in the possibility of gaining the victory over death and of the efforts to realize this ambition. One of the most important problems in which the Indians have always been interested is the relation between the One and the Many, between this phenomenal world and its source and ground. Already in the Rgveda opinions differ : it has been a divine architect who made the phenomenal world ; it has been an anonymous primeval deity who became a golden germ from which a demiurge was born ; the world has arisen from the impersonal One who desired to create the world, etc. In the course of time these creators and ideas of the original One fused into the great figure of Prajapati, „the Lord of Creatures”. This God, who occupies a central position in the Brdhmawa-texts originally was what he was to remain in popular belief : the deity presiding over biological creation. In the ritualistic speculations of the authors of the Brahmanas he is the Creator, the Father of gods and anti-gods, the origin of creation. In the beginning Prajapati was alone, he was ,all this’, he was the universe in ,concentrated’ and unmanifested form. By way of emanation and self-differentiation he became the manifested universe, including the creatures. After this creative activity he is empty and exhausted, because he has ,entered the universe' or rather transformed himself into the universe. His strength, force and health can however be recovered and restored by means of rites. The world and the creatures which emanated from Prajapati were not perfect ; they were a discontinuum, disintegrated, in the power of death. In order to make life possible and to make the world habitable Prajdpati instituted rites. Prajapati is in the Brahmanas identified with the highest and most general categories ; he is the year, i.e. the complete cycle of time comprising the past and the future, totality and completeness. The year, viewed as an integral structure is the fundamental basis of all that happens. Being also the rite, the sacral act, Prajapati is on the other hand the earthly counterpart of the great cosmic drama. On these two identifications the ritualistic system of these authors is constructed. Among these authorities Sandilya. occupies a prominent place. The mundane events oscillating between the poles of birth and death, of genesis and decay, rites are needed to reintegrate what has become decomposed. They are however also to restore the original unity and totality, to co-ordinate the non-co-ordinated phenomena, to reconstruct Prajapati, to restore his original oneness. The rites reduce, temporarily it is true and with regard to the individual who has them performed, the phenomenal multiplicity to a reintegrated totality, in which the diversity of Prajapati's emanation has been destroyed, and the original unity and oneness has been restored. This theory underlies the structure of the great Fire-altar , by which the sacrificer identifies himself with Prajapati whose original unity is restored. By performing this elaborate ritual the personality of the sacrificer was transformed into a new and divine existence, which was no longer subject to the imperfections proper to this world. That is to say : the sacrificer acquires ,immortality' , he transcends the limits of phenomenal time, he becomes sarva, i.e. safe-andsound, whole. Prajapati-the year will not destroy the man who identifies himself with the totality, with Prajapati-the year, and who has acquired an insight into the meaning of this identification ; that man overcomes disintegration and discontinuity, he gains the victory over death, that is to say : he attains to a sound and complete condition. In the course of time the personal Prajapati and the impersonal Brahman are identified. In the early Upanishads the latter becomes the great fundamental principle. These works resume on the one hand ancient speculations a part of which has been preserved in the Rg- and Atharvavedas, and utilize, on the other hand, the ritualistic theories of the Brdhmawas. The tendency of their authors is however to dissociate themselves from ritualism. Emphasizing the quest for the salvation and spiritual welfare of the individual they go into the problem of the ,Soul' , that is the ,self' or the very core of the personality, which is essentially different from all phenomenal plurality. The hitman is identified with the Punira, the primeval man out of whom the universe arose. It follows that the Atrmn is also cosmic. According to Udddlaka Arum it is the subtle essence of all that exists. All the important potencies in the universe are said to be its manifestations. However, in these works . Htman and Brahman tend to fuse and the great teacher Ydjwavalkya concluded to their being identical. Ordinary men do not understand this identity, but the few who are able to arrive at this highly important insight gain the victory over the imperfections and contingencies of empirical existence. They experience the ecstatic and unanalysable condition of unity, the undifferentiated Plenum or Totality, the ,All'. They know that they are truly Brahman or Sarvam. Now, it is most important to attain to this condition, which implies the victory over death, before one is to die the worldly death. The man who dies without having escaped death will die again and again in the hereafter. Whereas the ritualists attempt to protect themselves from this much feared ,repeated death' by means of rites, especially by the construction of the Fire-altar, the teachers whose words are recorded in the early Upanishads ascribed the delivering power to the esoteric knowledge of the ,under lying theory', to the knowledge of the ritual-cosmic interrelations : the man who knows the relevant speculations will be released. This belief in the redeeming power of the rites and the ,theory' on which they are based was also of special importance with regard to the development of the Karman-doctrine. Thus ritual and spiritual identification with the One which is the Totality, the Primeval Being, the Creator, the Atman enables man by experiencing a transformation to conquer phenomenal time and death. (shrink)

This paper opens with first‐hand accounts of critical care medical interventions in which detainees, in the custody of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), are brought to the emergency department for treatment. This case dramatizes the extent to which the provision of ethical and acceptable nursing care is jeopardized by federal law enforcement paradigms. Drawing on the scholarship of Michel Foucault and Giorgio Agamben, this paper offers a theoretical account of the power dynamics that inform the health care of patients (...) who find themselves caught in the custodial scaffolding of a vast immigration and detention apparatus. It offers an analysis of the display of sovereign and biopolitical power over the lives (and deaths) of detainees (Foucault), as well as the ways these individuals are reduced to “bare life” under the political pretext of an emergency or “state of exception” (Agamben). Our purpose here is both theoretical and practical: to better understand the often hidden agency or impersonal “will” exercised by the immigrant detention system, but also to equip clinicians in these and cognate facilities (e.g., prisons) with the critical tools by which they might better navigate incommensurable paradigms (i.e., care vs. custody) in order to deliver the best care while upholding their ethical duties as a care provider. This is all the more pressing because hospitals are not sanctuaries and given the incursion of federal law enforcement agents, nurses may find themselves conscripted as de facto agents of the state. (shrink)

The study deals with the conception of personal immortality in Miguel de Unamuno’s works. The starting point of his reflections is a particular person of “flesh and blood“ and his authentic existence. Unamuno’s “hunger of immortality“ is inspired by man’s confrontation with the phenomenon of death. For Unamuno existential phenomena of suffering and anxiety seem to be the keyword to the authentic existence and God then becomes a guarantor of individual immortality. The study concentrates on Unamuno’s conception of God (...) in the spirit of panentheism and Spanish Krausism. It observes Unamuno’s philosophical sources of information when discussing the question of immortality from Pythagoras to Platon while opposing the views of impersonal immortality (e.g. B. Spinoza). His theological argumentation is based mainly on S. Kierkegaard, St. Paul and Spanish mystics. His philosophical ideas are extracted especially from his works The Tragic Sense of Life, The Agony of Christianity and The Intimate Diary. His novella Saint Emmanuel The Good, Martyr serves as a fictional illustration of his ideas. The study concludes with the evaluation of Unamuno as an author writing “philosophizing literature“ and as a predecessor of existentialist literature, who was orientated towards Christian personalism. (shrink)

This issue of the Journal contains the material on physical mediumship originally scheduled for the Spring JSE. The plan for that issue had been to focus on the Felix Experimental Group (FEG) and its medium Kai Mügge, and Michael Nahm and I had each written very long papers describing and evaluating our detailed and extensive investigations of the group. But as I mentioned in my Editorial in the last issue, JSE 28:1 (Spring 2014), as we were preparing to send the (...) Spring issue to the printers, convincing evidence of fraud surfaced in the case, and the current issue now contains substantial revisions of those two long papers, reflecting what Nahm and I have learned and concluded in the interim. But first, since some (maybe many) JSE readers lack the background to put these contemporary investigations of physical mediumship into context, a few words on the subject are perhaps in order. As regular readers of our Historical Perspectives papers will know, physical mediumship flourished during a roughly 80-year period beginning in the mid-nineteenth century. The widespread emergence of physical mediums corresponded to the beginning, and then the heyday, of the Spiritualist movement, which began in the United States in the 1850s, and spread quickly to Europe. Spiritualism in the West fostered a more secular spiritism-the view that personal consciousness persists after bodily death, and that although some people are especially gifted mediumistically the rest of humanity can also experience a direct connection to "the other side." While mental mediums claimed to deliver messages from the deceased, say through automatic writing or trance impersonations, physical mediums purported to provide evidence of survival in various physical forms. The most common of these were "raps" or knocking sounds, either in the séance table or elsewhere in the room, typically answering "yes" or "no" questions by the number of sounds (e.g., two for "yes" and three for "no"). Sometimes, instead of raps, the séance table would tilt up and down several times, and in more dramatic cases the table would levitate fully. And in the most dramatic of those cases, sitters would report that the table carried people up and around the room with them, and many reported that they were unable to move the levitated table back to the floor once it was aloft. More dramatically still, many mediums purported to materialize objects resembling the deceased-for example, a disembodied hand and wrist (perhaps with characteristic deformations), or an image of the deceased's face, or a full-figure materialized human form. Although most spiritists insisted throughout that these physical phenomena were manifestations of the deceased mediated by the living, many investigators entertained and then gradually accepted the view that the carefully controlled (and presumably non-fraudulent) phenomena were actually psychokinetic productions of the living. Undoubtedly, many factors contributed to the decline of the Spiritualist movement and the apparent retreat of physical mediums to relatively inconspicuous enclaves or sitter groups. Not surprisingly, one of those is the richly documented history of mediumistic fraud perpetrated by soundrels only too willing to take advantage of grieving and gullible sitters. Nevertheless, and contrary to what many like to claim, it would be a mistake to think either that all physical mediums were frauds or that nobody managed to weed out the charlatans among them. First of all, investigators exposed many hundreds of fraudulent mediums during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Some of those investigators were self-styled skeptical debunkers-scientists or laypersons who made reputations for themselves by exposing mediumistic duplicity, and most of whom believed that spiritualistic phenomena simply couldn't be genuine. But others combined careful and critical research with a sympathetic or at least open-minded attitude toward the paranormal. One of the reasons this period is so important is that some physical mediums clearly stood out from the crowd. No matter how carefully they were controlled, and no matter how alert, competent, and familiar with conjuring were their investigators, these mediums produced effects that couldn't plausibly be dismissed as fraudulent or attributed to malobservation. In fact, one of the strongest bodies of evidence comes from the 1908 Naples sittings with Eusapia Palladino. Eusapia's three investigators were England's most experienced debunkers of fraudulent mediums. They knew the tricks of the trade (indeed, two of them were skilled conjurors); they knew what Eusapia's sometimes suspicious methods (and occasionally outright but simplistic tricks) were; they knew how to control for them; and the phenomena occurred in decent electric light and often at a distance from the medium. The investigators traveled to Naples believing they would establish once and for all that Eusapia was nothing but a trickster, and they left Naples grudgingly convinced that the nearly 500 phenomena they documented over eleven séances were not fraudulent. (shrink)

During the centenary of the outbreak of the First World War Erich Maria Remarque’s bestseller “All Quiet on the Western Front” is surpassing successive records of popularity. Commonly considered as an antiwar and pacifist novel, the history of Paul Bäumer, a young soldier on the western front, is rather a novel about a war generation lost in the trenches. Remarque describes this written off generation on the stage of various war­-spaces. The first­-person narrator who very often switches to the collective (...) ‘we’, is the voice of virtually the whole community of combatants engaged on the side of the German recruits, describes 1) barracks in which it has been attempted to destroy their youth and build their new identity, 2) the latrine at the front that paradoxically secures relative peace for them, 3) earthworks as a prelude to hostilities, 4) trenches/dugouts that are only a waiting­-room for death, 5) the home front which is presented in the context of “La Grande Guerre” as an alien and impersonal space, and 6) the military hospital that from the narrator’s Bäumer’s perspective is the war in a minature format. The homodiegetic and autodiegetic method of narration in “All Quiet on the Western Front” is on the one hand based on the visualization of the war­-spaces, on the other – on showing, through the making of the narrative semantics of these spaces, the lost generation. Bäumer’s and his companions’s moral­-ethical­-human fall is related to, and dependent on, the spaces in which they exist and which affect their psychic and physical condition. With the death of the main narrator also dies the space of the narration, however the frame of the narrative spaces remains and documents the cruelty and savagery of the hell of 1914–1918. (shrink)

We report the results of two experiments that show that participants rely on both emotion and reason in moral judgments. Experiment 1 showed that when participants were primed to communicate feelings, they provided emotive justifications not only for personal dilemmas, e.g., pushing a man from a bridge that will result in his death but save the lives of five others, but also for impersonal dilemmas, e.g., hitting a switch on a runaway train that will result in the (...) class='Hi'>death of one man but save the lives of five others; when they were primed to communicate thoughts, they provided non-emotive justifications for both personal and impersonal dilemmas. Experiment 2 showed that participants read about a protagonist's emotions more quickly when the protagonist was faced with a personal dilemma than an impersonal one, but they read about the protagonist's decision to act or not act equally quickly for personal and impersonal dilemmas. (shrink)

In one of his most important books, Children, Ethics, and Modern Medicine, Richard B. Miller argues that medical ethicists have too frequently focused on abstract moral and legal principles in wrestling with the issues raised by contemporary medical practice. Drawing on the anthropologist, Clifford Geertz, Miller suggests that ethicists must attend to both the “experience-near” realities that patients and their families confront and the “experience-distant” work of connecting those realities to the theoretical principles that might help illuminate the existential and (...) ethical problems faced by patients and families. In a useful analogy, Miller argues that the best strategy is to tack back and forth between the near and the distant such that one artfully occupies the intermediate space between personal and impersonal perspectives. In this chapter, I follow Miller’s advice to seek out the intermediate space between the lived reality of the bedside and the reflective domain of the scholar’s office. For most bioethicists that space is found in one of three ways. One encounters patients and their families as a clinician or as an observer of the clinical encounter. One attends carefully to illness narratives as a source of experience-near material. Or one reflects on one’s own experience as a patient or family member encountering medical practice. This chapter suggests that it is possible to combine these approaches. Specifically, I draw on the experience of accompanying my wife through her illness and death from ovarian cancer, as well as on grief memoirs to illuminate a neglected area of health humanities scholarship. Drawing on Arthur Frank’s classic study of illness narratives in The Wounded Storyteller, this chapter delineates similarities and between grief narratives and illness narratives. A comparison of these two genres suggests why the grief of patients and families is so often overlooked in accounts of the clinical encounter. (shrink)

A simplistic image of twentieth century French philosophy sees Merleau-Ponty’s death in 1961 as the line that divides two irreconcilable moments in its history: existentialism and phenomenology, on the one hand, and structuralism on the other. The structuralist generation claimed to recapture the dimension of objectivity and impersonality, which the previous generation was supposedly incapable of. As a matter of fact, in 1962, Derrida’s edition of Husserl’s The Origin of Geometry was taken to be a turning point that announced (...) the structuralist revolution by introducing a reflection on the historicity and the materiality of impersonal idealities. And yet, the 1998 publication of Merleau-Ponty’s notes from his Collège de France lecture course on the same topic make manifest that he was already taking phenomenology in another direction. His 1959 reading of The Origin of Geometry shows how unexpectedly close the early Derrida is to the late Merleau-Ponty. By identifying the tension between archaeology and teleology as the basic problem of Husserlian phenomenology, Merleau-Ponty and Derrida each disclose the fundamental importance of history and of writing. Comparing the two readings in their specific context not only brings about a more complex picture of the intellectual debates of the time, but also shows how, with Merleau-Ponty’s interpretation of The Origin of Geometry, Derrida’s “différance” predates itself and receives another genealogy. (shrink)

I : PETRARCH'S BRITAIN 1: Piero Boitani: Petrarch and the barbari Britanni II: PETRARCH AND THE SELF 2: Jennifer Petrie: Petrarch solitarius 3: Zygmunt G. Baranski: The Ethics of Ignorance: Petrarch's Epicurus and Averroes and the Structures of the De Sui Ipsius et Aliorum Ignorantia 4: Jonathan Usher: Petrarch's Second Death III: PETRARCH IN DIALOGUE 5: Francesca Galligan: Poets and Heroes in Petrarch's Africa: Classical and Medieval Sources 6: Enrico Santangelo: Petrarch reading Dante: the Ascent of Mont Ventoux 7: (...) John Took: Petrarch and Cino da Pistoia: A Moment in the Pre-history of the Canzoniere IV: PETRARCHISM AND ANTIPETRARCHISM IN ITALY 8: Abigail Brundin: Petrarch and the Italian Reformation 9: Hilary Gatti: Petrarch, Sidney, Bruno 10: Diego Zancani: Renaissance Misogyny and the Rejection of Petrarch 11: Letizia Panizza: Impersonations of Laura in Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Italy V: PETRARCHISM: ENGLISH AND SCOTTISH CONNECTIONS 12: Michael Wyatt: Other Petrarchs in Early Modern England 13: Stephen Clucas: Thomas Watson's Hekatompathia and European Petrarchism 14: John Roe: The Comedy of Astrophil: Petrarchan Motifs in Sidney's Astrophil and Stella 15: Syrithe Pugh: Sidney, Spenser and Political Petrarchism 16: R. D. S. Jack: Petrarch and the Scottish Renaissance Sonnet VI: PETRARCH AND THE MODERNS: ITALY AND BRITAIN 17: Pamela Williams: Leopardi and Petrarch 18: Ela Tandello: Between Tradition and Transgression: Amelia Rosselli's Petrarch 19: Martin McLaughlin: Nineteenth-century British Biographies of Petrarch 20: Peter Hainsworth: Translating Petrarch. (shrink)

Atheistic Platonism is an alternative to both theism and nihilistic atheism. It shows how any jobs allegedly done by God are better done by impersonal Platonic objects. Without Platonic objects, atheism degenerates into an illogical nihilism. Atheistic Platonism instead provides reality with foundations that are eternal, necessary, rational, beautiful, and utterly mindless. It argues for a plenitude of mathematical objects, and an infinite plurality of possible universes. It provides mindless rational grounds for objective values, and for objective moral laws (...) for the persons who evolve in universes. It defines a meaningful way of life, which facilitates self-improvement. Atheistic Platonists argue for computational theories of life after death. Atheistic Platonism includes a rich system of spiritual symbols. It values transformational practices and ecstatic experiences. Where atheisms based on materialism fail, atheisms based on Platonism succeed. (shrink)

The guiding fictions -- Desire and its objects -- Desire without a proper object -- Nothingness and being -- The nothingness of desire and the desire for nothingness -- Defining self through no-self -- Getting over one's self -- The mind of nothingness -- The self with its desires -- No-self with its desire -- No-self and self-transcendence -- God and death -- From God to nothingness -- God and life -- Displacing the personal God -- Towards an (...) class='Hi'>impersonal God -- The absolute of relatedness -- The god of nothingness -- The place of morality -- Convivial harmony -- Customs, habits, decisions -- Morality and religion -- The moral subject in love -- The experience of happiness -- Giving and receiving -- The body as property -- Detachment -- Orthoaesthesis -- Consumption -- Sufficiency -- An elusive horizon -- Rewriting the history of philosophy -- Philosophical antiphony -- Cultural disarmament -- Philosophy beyond the divide. (shrink)

Is it legitimate to interpret and evaluate works in terms of their place within the writer's Oeuvres complètes? Is the notion of the life-work, and of relations between works and the life-work to which they belong, theoretically uninteresting, or worse, unjustifiable? The publication of a beautiful, five-volume edition of Roland Barthes's Oeuvres complètes is a good thing, but if we were to rely on this theorist's meta-hermeneutical dicta alone, it would be hard to say why. Barthes and other advocates of (...) impersonal notions of discourse and textuality tell us there is no good reason to "privilege" the boundary and internal structure of the individual writer's corpus. Yet Barthes, like the many critics who have trumpeted the "death of the author" theme, continued to rely on the categories of author and life-work. This discrepancy between theory and practice can be resolved in one of three ways: we can revise the theory to make it square with practice; we can keep the theory and try to make our critical practices conform to it; or we could replace both with some compatible pair of alternatives. In what follows I argue for revising theory in light of practice, first by responding to some theoretical objections to the work/life-work topic, and then by providing examples of worthwhile lines of inquiry related to it. (shrink)

The desert has long been a theme in Mark C. Taylor’s work, from his inquiries into the religious significance of Las Vegas to his writings on earthworks artist Michael Heizer. At once haunted by absence and loss, the desert, for Taylor, is a place of exile and wandering, of temptation and tribulation. Bones, in turn, speak to his abiding interest in remnants, ruins, ritual, and immanence. Taylor combines his fascination in the detritus of the desert and its philosophical significance with (...) his work in photography in Mystic Bones. A collection of remarkably elegant close-up images of weathered bones—remains of cattle, elk, and deer skeletons gathered from the desert of the American West—Mystic Bones pairs each photograph with a philosophical aphorism. These images are buttressed by a major essay, “Rubbings of Reality,” in which Taylor explores the use of bones in the religious rituals of native inhabitants of the Western desert and, more broadly, the appearance of bones in myth and religious reality. Meditating on the way in which bones paradoxically embody both the personal and the impersonal—at one time they are our very substance, but eventually they become our last remnants, anonymous, memorializing oblivion—Taylor here suggests ways in which natural processes can be thought of as art, and bones as art objects. Bones, Taylor writes, “draw us elsewhere.” To follow their traces beyond the edge of the human is to wander into ageless times and open spaces where everything familiar becomes strange. By revealing beauty hidden in the most unexpected places, these haunting images refigure death in a way that allows life to be seen anew. A bold new work from a respected philosopher of religion, Mystic Bones is Taylor’s his most personal statement of after-God theology. (shrink)

Africa lacks the particular history of liberal institutions and values that has served as the foundation for democratic institutions in the West. Without such a foundation, prospects for well-functioning democracy in African are not good. I argue that a possible alternative basis for African democracy may be found in “civic immortals,” extraordinary individuals capable of introducing dramatic shifts in political values. Civic immortals occupy the highest rung of a hierarchy of personhood in many indigenous African cultures, each of which is (...) considered to share in a different degree of life after physical death, and each of which corresponds to a different class of citizen. I examine three examples of African civic immortals: Nelson Mandela, Sunjata Keita, and Ngonnso. These extraordinary individuals shared an ambition to achieve lasting political change, and succeeded in transforming their political systems. Understanding the critical role that these civic immortals play in creating political change—both by directly changing political institutions and by inspiring ordinary citizens—offers us another tool for establishing stable and effective democratic institutions. It also highlights the ironically impersonal nature of contemporary liberal theory, and suggests a way that individual personalities and diversity among citizens may have a role in understanding political theory and practice. (shrink)

This paper is a brief introduction to and interpretation of the work of Joe Orton, an English playwright of the 1960s who achieved notoriety through the violent and obscene content of his plays, his scandalous homosexual lifestyle and brutal death at the hands of his lover. Orton’s work is presented as a dramatic exemplification of distinctive themes pertaining to a radically materialistic strain in philosophy anticipated in Machiavelli and Spinoza but finding its fullest expression in Deleuze’s thought : the (...) radical immanence of the political, the critique of self-identity and clinical concepts of madness, and the anarchic and impersonal force of sexual desire. Orton achieves this aim through comic experimentation with language and a radicalisation of farce that serve to produce a laughter that is both destructive and affirmative : destructive of the boundaries artificially erected by reason , and affirmative of this process of destruction and the pre-subjective desire through which it is accomplished. (shrink)

[From Euthanasia to Infanticide] The paper revisits the recent controversy over Dr. Mitlőhner’s defense of infanticide, published in this journal. In section 1, I point out the weaknesses of Mitlőhner’s paper. In sections 2 and 3 I turn to the most sophisticated defense of infanticide on offer today, that of Peter Singer’s. Section 2 sums up Singer’s description of the medical practice as already having abandoned the traditional ethic of equal value of all human lives, which motivates ethical revisionism. However, (...) an explicit justification of a revision is necessary. This is the job of Singer’s Replacement Argument, examined in section 3. I argue that this justification of infanticide in completely impersonal terms fails. In section 4, I reject it in favor of Ronald Dworkin’s distinction between experiential interests, possessed by infants, and critical interests that develop later. Hence, neonatal euthanasia can sometimes be justified in terms of a newborn‘s own interests (presumably, to relieve its suffering), not in impersonal terms. The only exception is those infants that lack any capacity for cognitive activity whatsoever, and who thus lack even experiential interests. It is an open question whether their “life” differs from death, and whether by killing them we perform infanticide. (shrink)

Pro-life and pro-choice advocates battle for rational dominance in abortion debates. Yet, public polling (and general legal opinion) demonstrates the public’s preference for the middle ground: that abortions are acceptable in certain circumstances and during early pregnancy. Implicit in this, are two contradictory intuitions: (1) that we were all early fetuses, and (2) abortion kills no one. To hold these positions together, Harman and Räsänen have argued for the Actual Future Principle (AFP) which distinguishes between fetuses that will develop into (...) persons and those that will never develop into persons. However intellectually ingenious their solutions are, they fail to account for a third intuition: that the death of a wanted fetus – e.g. through termination or miscarriage – is of moral significance. Not only is this practically important, but it is also supported by public opinion. The authors of this paper argue that relational ontology can modify the AFP to better account for all three intuitions. Furthermore, it further emphasizes the pivotal role of the pregnant person who relates to their own fetus in either personal or impersonal ways. Addressing the fundamental challenges of relational ontology, the authors defend the position that human personal identity is ultimately relational. (shrink)