Introduction.--The dynamic of science, by A. S. Russell.--Beyond knowledge, by J. Macmurray.--Moral adventure, by B. H. Streeter.--Finality in religion, by B. H. Streeter.--Objectivity in religion, by J. Macmurray.--Myth and reality, by Catherine M. Chilcott.

The tin can rolled across the grimy tiles of the hallway. Dondog barely grazed it, with his left foot, I think, yet there it rolled. The thick cover of darkness made it impossible to know if it was a can of beer or of Coke. Empty, light, the tin cylinder followed its noisy course then stopped, no doubt because it had come up against heavier, grimier trash.The floor slanted. Like everywhere in the City, the masons who added blocks of housing (...) on top of existing ones had little regard for horizontality. They were of the mind that the cement would hold and, what's more, the walls would sink and undo any effort at getting it right. The hallway therefore had the look of a sordid and shabbily dug trench. It reeked of fish... (shrink)

Introductory, by B. H. Streeter.--Love and omnipotence, by C. F. D'Arcy.--The survival of the fittest, by Lily Dougall.--Power, by Lily Dougall.--The defeat of pain, by B. H. Streeter.

This paper argues that the best way to think about intellectual norms, or an ethics of belief, is by reflecting on the virtues and vices of inquiry. A theory of intellectual virtue provides a promising framework for evaluating different practices of inquiry in relation to the generic aim of truth. However, intellectual virtues are too often conflated with measures of reliability in mainstream epistemology, resulting in an overly narrow conception of epistemic value. Prominent reliabilists such as Alvin Goldman state that (...) a practice of inquiry is virtuous just in case it maximizes true belief. I argue that this reliabilist interpretation of virtue lacks the resources to explain evaluative distinctions between ways of maximizing true belief, such as the difference between maximizing accuracy and maximizing precision. With the aid of examples, I show that praiseworthy attributions of reliability are parasitic on attributions of topic-specific aims and skills that constitute their own characteristic standards of success, suggesting that bare truth-maximization is not the fundamental criterion of epistemic value. To accommodate the full range of intellectual norms that shape our practices, I conclude that we need a concept of virtue thicker than mere reliability. (shrink)

After all, ever since the abandonment of the classical curriculum in the mid-nineteenth century, the courses of studies in American colleges have been characterized by ever-increasing diversity, responses to highly particular social and individual demands, spin-offs from traditional disciplines, specializations breeding subspecializations, and the like. Stringent counterrevolutions, such as the one undertaken in the College of the University of Chicago some thirty years ago, have been infrequent and brief. What, then, is so special about the present seductive disarray in literary (...) studies. Chiefly, I think, the importance of this compartmentation lies in the way we are encouraged to think of literary works and to respond to them. If we persuade ourselves that novels and plays and poems are written by members of an identifiable subgroup—whether that group be defined in national, ethnic, sexual, class, or special interest terms—and can be properly understood, and appreciated only by those who know the code of the same subgroup, we should be prepared to accept the implications of the position we are espousing. If, to cite a specific example, what is called the Black Aesthetic points to a mode of artistic apprehension that is not available to non-Blacks, it casts the rest of us, however curious and interested, in the roles of voyeurs and eavesdroppers. Here, as so often, our best writers anticipate and dramatize notions which become solemn critical propositions later on. In Saul Bellow's second novel, The Victim, published thirty years ago, the protagonist, Leventhal, recalls a party at which two of his friends, both Jewish, were singing spirituals and old ballads. They were being needled by a drunken New England WASP named Kirby Albee. "Why do you sing such songs?" he said. "You can't sing them.""Why not, I'd like to know?" said the girl."Oh, you, too," said Albee with his one cornered smile. "it isn't right for you to sing them. You have to be born to them, it's no use trying to sing them." Robert E. Streeter served for many years as Dean of the College and later as Dean of the Humanities at the University of Chicago where he is now Edward L. Ryerson Distinguished Service Professor. He is one of the editors of Critical Inquiry. "WASPs and Other Endangered Species" was presented as the Nora and Edward Ryerson Lecture at the University of Chicago on 5 April 1977. (shrink)

My dissertation presents the outlines of a theory about knowledge and virtue. The core idea is that the nature of knowledge is best understood by reflecting on its role in intellectual practice. What distinguishes knowledge from true opinion is not primarily its causal history or its internal structure, as standard theories argue, but rather the way in which knowledge is embedded or rooted in our styles of explanation, modes of communication and methods of teaching. Knowledge becomes rooted in our practices (...) through the cultivation and exercise of intellectual virtue, or the dispositions and skills needed to master varieties of theoretical and practical reasoning. The link to virtuous intellectual activity is what makes knowledge more valuable than true opinion. This suggests that the virtues of intellectual practice are central to our understanding of the nature of knowledge. I devote the first half of the dissertation to showing why we need a theory of virtue in epistemology and how in general that theory ought to be formulated. In the second half, I address skeptical objections and other problems that arise during my formulation of the theory. ;The starting point is a puzzle from Plato's Meno about the value of knowledge. As Socrates observed, true belief has the same practical value as knowledge. So why should we prefer the one to the other or even distinguish between the two? Most philosophers agree that true belief is not enough for knowledge, but there is little agreement about what it lacks and why the distinction matters. Standard attempts to fill this gap either conceive knowledge as true belief with the right kind of causal history or as responsibly formed belief with the right kind of rational structure. But neither strategy is satisfactory because neither adequately reflects the role that knowledge plays in intellectual practice. This suggests that there is something wrong with the standard belief-theoretic analysis of knowledge. I develop a new account of the nature and value of knowledge that better explains the connection between the norms of virtuous inquiry and the goal of understanding. (shrink)

It is strange to write for the pages of this journal a statement which will not come under the eye of its founding editor, Sheldon Sacks. For nearly five years everything that appeared in Critical Inquiry—articles, critical responses, editorial comments—was a matter of painstaking and passionate concern to Shelly Sacks. With a flow of questions and suggestions and a talent for unabashed cajolery, he generated articles and rejoinders to those articles. He worked tirelessly in editorial consultation and correspondence with contributors, (...) especially young writers, helping them to discover the best way of giving form to their ideas. Among the essays submitted to this journal he searched eagerly, even anxiously, for those which seemed, in his words, "right for C.I." What was right for C. I. was never, for Shelly Sacks, a cut-and-dried choice. In his own intellectual life, in his teaching and writing, he delighted in arguing important general questions: theories of representation in the arts, points of possible intersection between linguistic science and literary criticism, the interplay of social forces and cultural expressions. Not surprisingly, in reconnoitering for Critical Inquiry, he found special satisfaction in identifying writers who shared his passion for reexamining fundamental topics in the intellectual disciplines. If such writers made their case forcefully, so much the better: in choosing an essay for publication he assessed its capacity to stimulate interesting counterargument. At no time, however, did Shelly Sacks confuse his own beliefs with the nature of intellectual discourse. As an editor he was hospitable to writers whose premises he questioned and whose conclusions he deplored. Nor did Shelly attempt to achieve a spurious catholicity by following a quiet quota system designed to give each major line of interpretation—deconstructionist, Marxist, psychoanalytic, what have you—an occasional airing in Critical Inquiry. For Shelly each article stood on its own ground: if its author dealt responsibly and freshly with an interesting problem, that was enough. And, along with his commitment to theoretical inquiry, he responded warmly to the personal, the offbeat, the idiosyncratic. He regarded the feature Artists on Art, for example, as a central element in our design. As an editor Sheldon Sacks was above all a shaper. He labored to find and suggest connections in the phenomena of intellectual life. Even the construction of a table of contents for a typical Critical Inquiry issue became for him an opportunity to influence the reader's experience of what we offered. The eminence of an author or the allure of a title were put to one side as Shelly sought to orchestrate, through placement, a kind of intellectual counterpoint from one essay to another. Unheard melodies, doubtless, for many of us, but for Shelly real and sustaining. In this valedictory note we have spoken of Sheldon Sacks' editorial accomplishment—in our friendly view, a very distinguished one—rather than of the personal qualities which made working alongside him an exhilarating experience. We should report, however, that for more than half the life of this journal Shelly was ill and knew that the time available to him was likely to be relatively brief. Faced with this diminishing perspective, he did not—indeed it is more accurate to say he could not—moderate his involvement with the life of this journal. At his death, as at the launching of this enterprise, he held to the high ambition that Critical Inquiry encourage comeliness, vigor, and continuity in the discourse of our time. The appropriate "critical response" to this great loss is that Sheldon Sacks’ editorial colleagues, and our publisher, the University of Chicago Press, pledge whatever talents and energies we possess to the continuing life of the journal he imagined and brought into being. (shrink)

This is a new release of the original 1933 edition.

For Heidegger, phenomenological investigation is carried out by formal indication, the name given to the methodical approach he assumes in Being and Time. This paper attempts to draw attention to the nature of formal indication in light of the fact that it has been largely lost upon American scholarship (mainly due to its inconsistent translation). The roots of the concept of formal indication are shown in two ways. First, its thematic treatment in Heidegger's 1921/22 Winter Semester course, Phenomenological Investigations into (...) Aristotle, is examined to make clear what Heidegger silently assumes in Being and Time. Second, Heidegger's adaptation of Husserl's use of the term, indication, is outlined to clarify the concept even more. The enhanced understanding of formal indication granted by these two points leads to a better grasp of Heidegger's concept of truth, for formal indication and truth are mutually implied for Heidegger. Finally, it is suggested that the reader of Being and Time, on the basis of what formal indication demands, approach the work not as a doctrine to be learned but as a task always requiring further completion. (shrink)

Education, by B. H. Streeter.--Marriage, by K. E. Kirk.-- Patriotism, by J. P. R. Maud.--Social inequalities, by C. R. Morris.--Earning and spending, by R. L. Hall.--Gambling, by R. C. Mortimer.--Ethics and religion, by J. S. Bezzant.