Kafka's work has exercised immense influence on cinema and his reflections on diminished human agency in modernity and the dominance of oppressive institutions that perpetuate individual or social alienation and political repression have been the subject of debates by philosophers such as Theodor Adorno, Walter Benjamin, Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, and Alexander Kluge. Informed by a world-systems approach and taking a cue from Jorge Luis Borges’ point that Kafka has modified our conception of the future, and André Bazin's suggestion that (...) literary concepts, characters and styles can exceed “novels from which they emanate”, I understand the Kafkaesque as an elastic term that can refer to diverse films that might share thematic preoccupations, but also aesthetic and formal differences. In this article, I explore the politics of humour in Kafkaesque cinema with reference to the following films: The Overcoat ( Шинель, 1926, Gregor Koznitzev and Leo Trauberg), The Shop on Main Street ( Obchod na korze, 1965, Ján Kadár), and Death of a Bureaucrat ( La muerte de un burócrata, 1966, Tomás Gutiérrez Alea). I draw attention to the dialectics of humour and the connection between the Kafkaesque and slapstick so as to show how humour is deployed as a means of political critique. (shrink)

Big Data are increasingly used in machine learning in order to create predictive models. How are predictive practices that use such models to be situated? In the field of surveillance studies many of its practitioners assert that “governance by discipline” has given way to “governance by risk”. The individual is dissolved into his/her constituent data and no longer addressed. I argue that, on the contrary, in most of the contexts where predictive modelling is used, it constitutes Foucauldian discipline. Compliance to (...) a norm occupies centre stage; suspected deviants are subjected to close attention—as the precursor of possible sanctions. The predictive modelling involved uses personal data from both the focal institution and elsewhere. As a result, the individual re-emerges as the focus of scrutiny. Subsequently, small excursions into Foucauldian texts discuss his discourses on the creation of the “delinquent”, and on the governmental approach to smallpox epidemics. It is shown that his insights only mildly resemble prediction as based on machine learning; several conceptual steps had to be taken for modern machine learning to evolve. Finally, the options available to those subjected to predictive disciplining are discussed: to what extent can they comply, question, or resist? Through a discussion of the concepts of transparency and “gaming the system” I conclude that our predicament is gloomy, in a Kafkaesque fashion. (shrink)

Natural death act legislation which is intended to assist patients who wish to refuse or limit medical treatment may actually erode patients' rights. By use of a 'living will' the legislation intends to extend the patients' role in decision-making to the time when patients can no longer speak for themselves. However, the legislation erodes and constricts the right of refusal. The erosion is the result of two sets of conditions found in the legislation. The first requires that the patient be (...) qualified and certified by others before interventions can be withdrawn or withheld. The second delineates the physical condition which must be present before a living will can be followed. Patients have had to seek the assistance of the courts to enforce their common law rights of refusal of treatment against these requirements. Legislation is needed, but greater care must be taken to avoid the creation of a Kafkaesque legal nightmare for those we intend to assist. (shrink)

A certain pupil with the vaguely Kafkaesque name B has mastered the series of natural numbers. B's new task is to learn how to write down other series of cardinal numbers and right now, we're working on the series "+2." After a bit, B seems to catch on, but we are unusually thorough teachers and keep him at it. Things are going just fine until he reaches 1000. Then, quite confounding us, he writes 1004, 1008, 1012."We say to him: (...) 'Look what you've done!'—He doesn't understand. We say: 'You were meant to add two: look how you began the series!'—He answers: 'Yes, isn't it right? I thought that was how I was meant to do it.'"1B may be an "abnormal learner," but he's not unique among learners in literature. Another .. (shrink)

In the novel The City and the City, by China Mieville, the reader follows the Kafkaesque journey of Inspector Tyador Borlu through a labyrinthian political conspiracy set in two politically autonomous yet territorially overlapping cities: Beszel and Ul Qoma. Although “grosstopically” interwoven like topographic doppelgangers, the two cities are perceived as distinct political and cultural territories. Even as citizens from the two cities intermingle on divided streets, live in buildings where different floors exist in different cities, and children climb (...) on trees territorially split (“crosshatched”) down the center, they must learn to “unsee” and “unnotice” one another. The major role of education is to teach .. (shrink)

Evidence exists that the UK National Health Service has had, over many years, persistent problems of negative and intimidating behaviour towards staff from other employees. The evidence also suggests the organisational responses to negative behaviour can be inadequate. A conceptual model of organisational dysfunction was proposed to assist in explaining those responses and the overall culture in the NHS. Through research this model has been tested. Based upon the findings, an extended and developed model of organisational dysfunction is presented. A (...) qualitative approach was taken to research the organisational responses to negative behaviour, and the reasons and motivations for those responses. Forty-three interviews and six focus groups were conducted. There seem to be “islands” and “pockets” with a positive culture; however, the generalised evidence suggests the NHS is systemically and institutionally deaf, bullying, defensive and dishonest, exhibiting a resistance to ‘knowing’, denial and “wilful blindness”; a dysfunctional, perverse and troubled organisation. Totalitarian and Kafkaesque characteristics are identified. The NHS could also be described as a coercive bureaucracy and under certain definitions, a corrupt entity. The NHS appears to be an organisation with a heart of darkness; a “self perpetuating dysfunctional system”. There may be widespread “learned helplessness”. It seems to be a “good news factory”, rejecting and hiding any “bad news”; retreating from reality. The NHS appears to have “lost its way” and its focus/purpose as an institution. The dysfunctional organisational behaviours manifest in the NHS need to be addressed urgently as there is a detrimental, sometimes devastating, impact on the wellbeing of both staff and patients. The NHS needs to embrace an identity of being a listening, learning and honest organisation, with a culture of respect. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Plot Taxonomies and IntentionalityJon AdamsEver popular among the various topics occupying non-academic conversations about literature—such as the identity of the real author of the plays attributed to "Shakespeare"—is the notion that there exists only a finite number of storylines, and that all the stories we know are only ever complications or rehearsals of these few, elementary plots. What is the status of that claim? The issue gains a renewed (...) relevance in light of literary criticism's recent interest in the possibilities of employing evolutionary psychology as a means of naturalising literary study, but interest in plot taxonomies stretches a long way back. Why might we seek to categorise plots into a finite taxonomy? And what are the implications of the claim if true?Organising literature into any classificatory scheme is an attempt to achieve something like the coherence that the natural sciences have achieved—in chemistry and physics with the composition of the periodic table, and in biology with Linnaean classification. Much of science's epistemic prestige is rooted in the enormous success with which they have organised and categorised their subject of study. In searching for mechanism and pattern, the natural sciences proceed confidently from the belief that those mechanisms and patterns exist to be discovered, and that (relatively) simple rules underlie the manifest complexity of natural phenomena.Unfortunately, the study of literary fiction has no such security. There are two senses here in which we can talk of literature being patterned. At the micro-level, we have the question of whether individual works can be thought of as internally patterned. Usually, this type of patterning is easy enough to establish and recognise, and something the author is (or ought to be) in a good position to control. But, of course, internal [End Page 102] structures are not always conspicuous, and readers faced with an overtly complex text, like Pound's Cantos, or Finnegans Wake, have no guarantee that there is sense to be made of it. Surface complexity may shield a profound and subtle architecture, or the work may be as unstructured, fragmentary, and chaotic as it initially appears. A frustrated Wayne C. Booth draws attention to the problem: "One can't be sure that Finnegans Wake is not a great novel; perhaps someday readers will discover that the complex structure they now dream of and quarrel about is a realizable structure, an experienced structure. I doubt it, but it may happen. Until then, each new intricacy discovered... reveals precisely nothing more than that: a new intricacy."1 What's missing is a conceptual centre around which overall coherence might be achieved from what had seemed to be unconnected parts. Even so, if this sort of centre cannot be found in the individual work, it may yet obtain between works. In other words, The Cantos or Finnegans Wake may yet occupy nodal roles in a larger system, within which they acquire a previously unrecognized unity and order. This type of organization is something the individual author is obviously in a much less suitable position to control. Nonetheless, mapping out this larger, macro-level order is a task that literary criticism might want to take on. There is the example Borges uses of how Kafka's work retrospectively confers a familial similarity upon previously unconnected works. The quality of being "Kafkaesque" is the only thing common to the pieces, but was not apparent (or rather—the paradox that excites Borges—did not exist) prior to Kafka's writing.2 This is the second sense in which literature might be thought of as patterned; that is, not within works, but across them. On the larger scale, is it possible that literature as a whole could be understood as patterned?The notion that literature can be understood "as a whole," and its corollary, that a literature so understood would submit to taxonomical classification, is an enduring one. Anthropologists and art historians have long acknowledged that there appear to be recurring themes, motifs, and commonalities across world cultures, and consequently, commonalities among the narratives those cultures construct and consume. Cataloguing these similarities has produced a variety of classificatory systems.In the mid-nineteenth century, German scholar Adolf... (shrink)

This essay considers Medjugorje, a small mountain village in Bosma-Hercegovina, as an icon or a bridge between God and man. The contemporary quest for national roots in the Balkans has led to cultural policies in the Yugoslav successor states which deny all common bonds among the South Slavs, resulting in a Kafkaesque civil war. Drawing on the crisis of liberal democracy and community in the West, the essay explores the prospects for peace in the former Yugoslavia, as reflected in (...) Our Lady of Medjugorje's call for moral and spiritual renewal. It concludes that the quintessential, universal. Christian, and ecumenical Medjugorje message of peace represents a bridge to eternity, just as the historic Old Bridge in Mostar and the Višegrad Bridge over the Drina River are symbolic of a common South Slav history and destiny. (shrink)

These are unprecedented times for most of us. A pandemic having brought life to a standstill across the world, now is that rare historical moment where most of us across the world are given a universal condition, in some way, to come together. In this Kafkaesque world, SciPhiWeb opens its doors to you. Given the several unforeseen, unrealistic and unfathomable kinds of experiences many across the globe are having, the question of philosophy and its dire needs in such times (...) is on the rise. (shrink)

The purpose of the paper is to show how the reading of Kafka’s Prometheus offered by Hans Blumenberg in Arbeit am Mythos authorizes a re-understanding of this short story as a device within which the meta-representative moment and the questioning moment are configured as two indissolubly linked aspects. In this perspective, starting from the recognition of the key role played by the mechanism of irony in the construction of the Kafkaesque short story, the article aims to highlight the three (...) different levels of articulation of such a mechanism, with particular reference to its ability to exhibit – at the same time – the transcendibility of the datum and the need to think the sense as «infinite deferral». (shrink)

The article offers a reading of “Through the Panama” by Malcom Lowry in light of an intertext connected with Polish literature. Lowry mentions a short story “The Lighthouse Keeper of Aspinwall” by the Polish writer Henryk Sienkiewicz, the Nobel prize winner for the whole of his literary output. What Lowry stresses in his intertextual allusion is the perilous illumination that the eponymous lighthouse keeper experiences. The article contends that the condition of the lighthouse keeper anticipates that of the Lowry protagonist (...) who in “Through the Panama” fears death by his own book, or, to take Lowry’s other phrase, being “Joyced in his own petard.” Basing her analysis on Mieke Bal’s idea of a participatory exhibition where the viewer decides how to approach a video installation, and can do so by engaging with a single detail, Filipczak treats Lowry’s text as a multimodal work where such a detail may give rise to a reassessment of the reading experience. Since the allusion to the Polish text has only elicited fragmentary responses among the Lowry critics, Filipczak decides to fill in the gap by providing her interpretation of the lighthouse keeper’s perilous illumination mentioned by Lowry in the margins of his work, and by analyzing it in the context of major Romantic texts, notably the epic poem Master Thaddeus by Adam Mickiewicz whose words trigger the lighthouse keeper’s experience, and The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, whose text is quoted in the margins of “Through the Panama.” This choice allows to throw a different light on Lowry’s work which is also inhabited by echoes of futurist attitude to the machine and the Kafkaesque fear of being locked in one of the many locks of the canal “as if in experience.”. (shrink)

While some enthusiastically applaud, some look on suspiciously, and still others remain indifferent, whatever one’s attitude may be, Europe is gradually taking shape. Its shape, however, is not yet the one dreamt of by the politicians nor the one desired by business people. It is clearly not yet a social Europe or the Europe hoped for by the lawyers or the police. In other words, there is still a long way to go. This process over which no one has control (...) is irreversible. Whether Europe will grow into a federation in which life is good for everyone will depend on the extent to which its citizens take Europe to heart. Hopefully they will see Europe as a community for which they can muster respect rather than as an artificial superstructure which one encounters only when one makes use of its services or confronts its rules.The fact that a strong individualistic tendency has developed in various European countries sometimes makes one fear the worst. As Jacques Delors remarked, what Europe mainly needs is a soul. If it is unable to find one, there will be too many lobbyists and too few idealists involved in the economic, administrative and legislative tasks, and private interests will take precedence over communal welfare. European institutions will become bureaucratic monoliths with abstract, Kafkaesque features. (shrink)

It would seem obvious to assume that nothing enters our consciousness that does not have a `meaning'. Feelings, customs, prescriptions, gestures — all these are involuntarily interpreted and valued in function of various historical, social and cultural conceptions and circumstances. This is why philosophical considerations about justice, ethics and rights nowadays are linked with the concrete `meaning' of goods, customs, institutions and persons. Walzer is no exception when he situates his moral and political reflections in the `meaning' that goods, customs (...) and institutions have in a particular culture at a particular time.Though the importance of meaning is seldom overlooked, this does not prevent there from being opposed theories about it. Two of the current theories about how meaning is created give rise to quite divergent views about what founds ethics. Because I am curious about which of the currents Walzer would subscribe to, I will briefly sketch both of them.In contemporary philosophy we see, on the one hand, those who assume that the meaning of a person or a thing is the result of an interpretation based on reference narratives, ideologies, novels, articles of faith, cultural patterns of expectation, scientific models, and other sorts of interpretative frameworks. Alongside their attention to linguistic expressions and narratives, and contextual, historical circumstances, these thinkers also take into account something which, in their opinion, escapes reference, something that appears more in a negative than a positive experience. On this view, it is assumed, when speaking for example about human rights, that although there exist various cultural modes of interpretation, phenomena such as `human dignity' refer in one way or another to something that various cultures aim at. In every culture, the infringement of this underlying principle gives rise to some form of outrage which is expressed in an original way within the particular cultural context.Others claim that customs, narratives, practices, etc., cannot be considered as media that make meanings `interpretable' and communicable, but rather they should be seen as signs that establish meaning by virtue of their relationship with each other. Sometimes the structuralists who defend this notion are accused of giving the impression that we are all wanderers in a Kafkaesque dictionary labyrinth, moving from one entry to another without ever seeing the light of day. The critics say that language and signs play an important role, but ultimately reality consists of concrete people, concrete landscapes with houses, trees and roads, populated by plants, animals and various sorts of objects. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Gerald Prince WORLDS WITH STYLE Whether it is taken to be a laudable characteristic of verbal artifacts (as in, "This essay is really well written"), a distinctive feature of an individual manner of speaking or writing (as in, "Jane definitely has a style of her own"), an ornamental supplement to that which is expressed (style as elocutio), or an appropriate way of using language in different contexts (there is (...) — or was — a style for tragedy, another one for comedy, and still another one for pastoral; there is a style for speaking at business meetings and other styles better suited to everyday conversations, political rallies, or Ph.D. exams), whether it is taken to be any of these four things (or many other things as well), the style of an utterance is traditionally viewed as a secondary phenomenon different from and added to some primary base. It is the mode of expressing a given matter, the way of "saying" some thing, the how of a what. The same is true when the notion style is used in connection with nonverbal artifacts — we talk about musical styles and about pictorial ones — but also in connection with any number of activities or states of affairs: walking down the street, dancing the tango, being pleasant, or playing ping-pong. Ping-pong players use rackets, a net, and a ball, in accordance with certain rules, when they engage in a casual game; but they are thought to be doing somediing more than merely playing: they are performing an activity (the what) in a particular way. They do it stylishly, idiosyncratically, with a lot of showboating, or in a manner appropriate to the informal context.1 It is somewhat surprising, therefore, that, when it comes to verbal (and nonverbal) representations, style is often thought to be irrelevant to the signified (what is represented) as opposed to the signifier (what represents). Graham Hough writes, for example: "In discussing whatever it is we mean by style we assume mat the primary choice, the choice of subject-matter in the large sense, has already been made.... We can talk about the secondary choice, the stylistic one, in various ways.... But whatever point of view we adopt, it will be the verbal ordonnance that we discuss, not the oudines of die mym, the facts of the case, the ideological or biographical substructure."2 Yet, as I have more than suggested, any what has (or can have) a corresponding how. Besides, both 59 60Philosophy and Literature in formal criticism and informal exchanges, we frequently seem to refer to the how of a signified. When we say, for instance, that a given short story is Kafkaesque, we do not, I think, have its verbal style in mind; and when we claim that a novelistic episode or character comes right out of Alice in Wonderland, we are not talking about linguistic matters. Of course, the fact mat we seem to refer to the how of signifieds (or that we do refer to the how of signifiers) does not necessarily mean mat mere are such things (or that we can describe them). But I suspect that there are (and that we can). I would like to discuss in what follows some of the ways in which we might be able to talk of the style of represented "worlds" more or less meaningfully and systematically and some of the problems attending such talk. For the sake of convenience and because of personal affinities, I will restrict myself to verbal narratives. I will not make a distinction between literary and non-literary ones, since such a distinction is formally and even pragmatically quite problematic. IfI concentrate on fictional narratives, it is, again, because of personal affinities and not because I mink that, when it comes to style, (ontological or other) differences between fiction and nonfiction make very much of a difference. As I will argue, style is in the eye ofthe beholder and, from that point of view, whether or not something is compossible with one's knowledge of the "real world" does not necessarily make it function as fictional or nonfictional; indeed, I am constandy surprised by the real world and I could easily recount... (shrink)

Milan Kundera and Franz Kafka - How Not to Forget Everydayness Purpose of the article is to show that while in fundamental constitutional questions we are still attentive to our past, in everyday legal cases we can forget more likely. In my opinion, in case of the post-communist countries it is very dangerous to forget the Past because we have nothing other than our memories. To forget means either to be exposited the danger of return to the system as it (...) was or to transform our legal praxis into a depersonalized system.Methodology/methods In this article I want to analyze two decisions of Constitutional Court of the Czech Republic and compare them with situation described in early works of Milan Kundera. His work reflecting the past everydayness in communist Czechoslovakia can be used as a good example of the analyses of forgetting. Very similar inspirations we can find in work of Franz Kafka or even better in Milan Kundera's interpretation of Kafka's work. The scientific aim of this article is to show that although the literature represents different conception of knowledge when this knowledge is compared with legal knowledge we can gain parallels that describe the law rooted in culture and society.Conclusions of this article show that on one side we face reminding of our Past in decisions regarding politically considerable cases. On the other side we face the oblivion: In cases at constitutional level dealing with everydayness in legal praxis we can find rather shift to formal interpretation without any reference to our past. The result can be Kafkaesque legal system without any signs of living people. (shrink)

This is an interesting and charming book—even if not strictly an essay in the history of science. The dissident author studied earth sciences in Romania during the beastly Ceauşescu regime but managed to get out by attending a conference in Newcastle and never returning until after the end of Eastern European communism. Yet he remained a Romanian patriot and is presently a professor honoris causa in Bucharest, while residing with his family in salubrious Glyndebourne.Constantin Roman must, by his account, surely (...) be one of the world's most upwardly mobile earth scientists. Starting in England with only £5 in his pocket, by ability, persistence, and charm, and using Newcastle as a stepping‐stone, he became acquainted with the right people and obtained a scholarship to Peterhouse, Cambridge, to do a Ph.D. on the tectonics of the Caucasus and across into Central Asia, using seismic data to identify plate boundaries and movements. On this basis, and studying areas of compression and tension, he proposed the existence of two nonrigid “buffer plates”—Sinkiang and Tibet—between the Indian and Eurasian plates. This was an iconoclastic suggestion in the early 1970s. Later, after getting his doctorate under Edward Bullard, Roman became an oil industry consultant and, I infer, made good money.Primarily, the book is about the madnesses of dictatorships and bureaucracies—and also the lovely life of a research student at Cambridge. When it came to Kafkaesque bureaucracy, the British authorities could be quite as obdurate as their Romanian counterparts: you can't have a work permit unless you have a job; you can't have a job unless you have a work permit. The difference, though, was that Roman could enlist support via his influential Cambridge contacts, and eventually he broke the logjam by getting an acquaintance at the Telegraph to offer him a kind of pseudo‐job . He was tenacious, resourceful, and bright, and seemingly charming to boot. It worked!Roman displayed similar qualities as a researcher. When he was well into his Ph.D. work, Bullard drew his attention to a paper emanating from Peter Molnar and his group at MIT that dealt with the same topic and arrived independently at essentially the same theory. The American paper had been refereed and accepted and was shortly to be published. Bullard warned his student that if this happened before Roman submitted his thesis he could only expect to get an M.A. So with bounce and initiative Roman dashed up to London and persuaded New Scientist to publish the main arguments of his thesis before the MIT paper got into print. This is presented as a coup, and so it was. Roman's Ph.D. was saved. But while that was all very well for the Cambridge “chaps,” one may wonder what the Americans thought about the matter. We're not told.We're not told a few other things either, particularly what happened between Roman and his first supervisor, Dan McKenzie . We are, however, told much about the delightful “lotus eaters” at Cambridge and the life there that is open to all—providing they have the right energy, brains, and charm. Roman got where he did by his ample possession of these qualities.But I wonder about Cambridge. It is the privileged tip of a huge social and economic pyramid, supported by a massive base of taxes, endowments, and, ultimately, the exploitation of third‐world lands and peoples and, formerly , of British workers. Roman knew that his home country was a mad dictatorship. He got out, and into what was then undoubtedly a better place. But what of those nameless ones today who suffocate in containers in their desperate struggle to get into Britain, or the refugees who are now incarcerated in alien detention centers in the Australian deserts? The West welcomes some, but not all. Continental Drift says nothing about such matters, but much about winning supporters through contacts, energy, and persistence. (shrink)