In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Literary Modernist Assault on PhilosophyMichael LackeyIn a recent essay, Richard Rorty makes an insightful distinction between two views of the concept in order to distinguish analytic from conversational philosophy. Rorty defines traditional and analytic philosophy's orientation toward knowledge in terms of "an overarching ahistorical framework of human existence that philosophers should try to describe with greater and greater accuracy."1 Implicit in this view is the belief that there (...) exists a mind-independent Concept that is what it is whether humans perceive it or not. Moreover, this Concept is best suited to represent the world's essence or nature. Therefore, the task of the philosopher is "to pin down" this invariable and universally valid Concept so that he or she can represent reality. Starting with Hegel, however, concepts were treated "like persons—never quite the same twice, always developing, always maturing" ("ACP," p. 21). This is, according to Rorty, the conversational philosopher's view of the "concept." Instead of being an immutable, mind-independent reality, it is a human-constructed semiotic force that evolves in relation to specific communities of language users. The idea of getting a concept right, therefore, is simply incoherent.This distinction between an immutable and evolving concept is certainly a valuable way of understanding some crucial developments in philosophy, but Rorty's use of it to characterize non-analytic philosophy as conversational instead of Continental philosophy is certainly an executive decision on his part. And yet, Rorty is not alone in making such an executive declaration about philosophy, for many early twentieth-century writers also examined this shift to a view of the concept as an ever-evolving and ever-shifting force of meaning, but instead of reconfiguring [End Page 50] and redefining philosophy in light of this shift, they proclaimed the discipline dead. What I want to do in this short essay is to identify a tension in the writings of early twentieth-century writers on the topic of philosophy and to initiate a dialogue that would take more seriously the crisis in philosophy that led to the split between the analytic and Continental traditions.2I"The appartement of the Boulevard des Philosophes presented the dreary signs of impending abandonment. It looked desolate and as if already empty to my eyes."3In the Western intellectual tradition, philosophy has been defined as a discipline that makes use of rigorous forms of logic in order to apprehend an overarching ahistorical truth, which is embodied in either an Ideal Form or a universal concept. Given the superior nature of philosophy's intellectual tools and primary object of desire, it has been dubbed a "nonempirical super science,"4 a disciplinary touchstone used to determine the quality and value of all other systems of knowledge.5 According to this view, a discipline has legitimacy and worth insofar as it contributes to, approximates, or yields philosophical knowledge. Philosophy certainly dominated the Western intellectual tradition from Plato to the end of the nineteenth century, but by 1899, Bertrand Russell was suggesting that philosophy was on the verge of losing its title as the Monarch of knowledge and truth: "Philosophy, by the slow victories of its own offspring, has been forced to forgo, one by one, its high pretensions."6 Friedrich Nietzsche's genealogical method certainly did much to undermine philosophy's credibility, for in exposing the way concepts evolve in relation to an individual community's ideological needs and desires, Nietzsche implicitly identified the philosopher's non-normative, mind-independent truth as the seething product of an overheated imagination.7Deeply concerned about the radical subversion of philosophy was T. E. Hulme, the modernist aesthetician who understood the threat that the anthropomorphic turn in knowledge posed to Truth. For Hulme, should the intellectual world accept the view that truth is a human construction instead of a pre-given Idea, all conceptual systems would be nothing more than a Weltanschauung. To save universal Truth and objective Reality, therefore, modernist intellectuals have only one option: to purge philosophy of "anthropomorphism" so that they could [End Page 51] re-establish an "objective basis" for knowledge, a basis that does "not in the least depend on the human mind." Once... (shrink)

The post-Holocaust suicide of a concentration camp survivor is particularly unsettling. One thinks, for instance, of Cliff Stern's devastated response to Professor Louis Levy's death in Woody Allen's movie Crimes and Misdemeanors. Loosely based on Primo Levi, Allen's professor provides in short documentary clips an astute analysis of the contradictions of a loving God in the Old Testament and stoically counsels embracing life despite the indifference and occasional cruelty of the universe. Having experienced, understood, and accepted the absurdity and injustice (...) of life, Levy, one might think, would rage to the bitter end against the dying of the light. But for no apparent reason, he kills himself. Cliff's response... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Killing God, Liberating the “Subject”: Nietzsche and Post-God FreedomMichael LackeyIIndeed, we philosophers and “free spirits” feel, when we hear the news that “the old god is dead,” as if a new dawn shone on us; our heart overflows with gratitude, amazement, premonitions, expectations. 1After God’s death, if Michel Foucault is to be believed, the death of the subject followed quite naturally. But how, one might ask, did that fateful (...) event of God’s death necessarily lead to the demise of that most noble animal? Answering this question is crucial, for once we understand how, for Nietzsche, God’s existence and His metaphorical participation in the creation of humanity are most destructive of what is most vital within the human, then we will see how, in killing God and His crown of creation, Nietzsche does not become the quintessential nihilist; rather, he becomes, to his mind, the first sane voice crying in the intellectual wilderness: make way the coming of a new human, a “subject” which can only become a “self “ when it paradoxically learns to overcome its very constructed “self.” Nietzsche’s logic therefore runs as follows: so long as God exists, a subject which overcomes itself cannot come into being; for as Richard Schacht rightly notes, the God-hypothesis serves as a support for the traditional subject-hypothesis in Nietzsche’s writings. So to produce a self-overcoming subject Nietzsche must first kill what he considers that stodgy old tyrant of the soul. But this raises the question of how one goes about doing away with [End Page 737] God. In Twilight of the Idols Nietzsche gives his reader a puzzling answer to this question when he says that he fears that “we are not getting rid of God because we still believe in grammar” (“Reason,” 5). 2 Given Nietzsche’s logic, to kill off God he needs to eliminate belief in grammar, and once God is dead, he can then do away with the subject. In what follows I will show how Nietzsche tries to eliminate God and the traditional subject through his extended analysis of what it means to “believe in grammar.”IIIf there is today still no lack of those who do not know how indecent it is to “believe”—or a sign of decadence, of a broken will to live—well, they will know it tomorrow. 3To understand what it means to believe in grammar, it is best to note how Nietzsche contrasts belief and freedom. More starkly, we could say that for Nietzsche to have faith means, necessarily, to lack freedom; or to be free means, necessarily, to reject faith. Nietzsche makes this clear in the fifth book of GS when he says: “Once a human being reaches the fundamental conviction that he must be commanded, he becomes ‘a believer.’ Conversely, one could conceive of such a pleasure and power of self determination, such a freedom of the will that the spirit would take leave of all faith and every wish for certainty, being practiced in maintaining himself on insubstantial ropes and possibilities and dancing even near abysses” (§ 347). I isolate this passage not in order to outline Nietzsche’s criticism of belief but rather to understand how Nietzsche defines freedom by contrasting it with belief. Such an analysis of course begs the question how it is possible that belief necessarily precludes freedom. Intuitively, it would seem that belief and freedom entail no contradiction. For instance, given two choices, to believe in God or not to believe in God, I exercise my freedom in choosing one belief over the other. With this example, it would seem that belief necessarily presupposes freedom. So how is it that Nietzsche concludes that freedom and belief are irreconcilable?That Nietzsche considers faith obscene is clear when he tells us in AC that belief of any kind is a “sign of decadence” (§ 50) which leads to “self-alienation” (§ 54). In fact he goes so far as to claim that faith is actually “slavery in a higher sense” (§ 54). To see why belief implies slavery we must first understand what Nietzsche means by faith. While the standard view suggests that faith is... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 26.2 (2002) 462-464 [Access article in PDF] The Phantom Table: Woolf, Fry, Russell and the Epistemology of Modernism,by Ann Banfield; 452 pp. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000, $55.00. We have grown accustomed to reading Woolf philosophically. Lucio Ruotolo, Mark Hussey, Gillian Beer, and Pamela Caughie are just a few notable scholars who have used philosophical texts and themes to shed light on Woolf's novels and life, (...) but Ann Banfield's The Phantom Table marks the beginning of a new approach. Contrary to the poststructuralist readings of the last two decades, Banfield treats Woolf as a "philosophical realist" (p. 294), an interpretation that presupposes that "Truth, although logically constructed, remains nonetheless objective, a discovery, as opposed to a creation, of the mind" (p. 94). To justify this approach, Banfield makes a case for privileging Bertrand Russell's "symbolic logic" (p. 42) as "a key if limited influence on Woolf's thinking about language" (pp. 42-43). Simply appropriating elements of Russell's rigorous epistemology, however, is not enough to determine Woolf's thinking, for as Banfield claims: "Woolf's philosophically inflected aesthetic is not one Russell would have foreseen" (p. 54). Roger Fry's astute reflections on Post-Impressionism aesthetics complement Russell's philosophical approach and thereby provide Woolf with a framework for the "novel's realism [which] must relate two competing realities, the private world and the public persona" (p. 324). Through an extraordinarily insightful analysis of the work of Russell and Fry, Banfield offers an intelligent interdisciplinary interpretation of the rigorous epistemological presuppositions at the base of Woolf's aesthetic.Central to Banfield's project is the conviction that reality is mind-independent (p. 101). On this view, "modern fiction ultimately aims to describe a reality beyond privacy" (p. 298), but to understand how we can access that reality we must carefully distinguish sensations, sense-data, and sensibilia. According to Russell, sensations are the private experiences or awareness of a subject, whereas a sense-datum is "that external object of which in sensation the subject is aware" (p. 70). Sensibilia, the lynchpin of Russell's and Banfield's theory, have the same ontological status as sense-data, though they are not necessarily data to a specific mind. Banfield cleverly articulates the ontological priority of sensibilia by reversing Berkeley's famous dictum: "What brings about" sensibilia's "actualization is the perspective's occupation by a subject and the corresponding interception of sensibilia by sense-organs located in time and space" (pp. 74-75). Sensibilia need not be perceived to exist, which places the perceiving subject at the mercy of sensibilia, rather than making sensibilia ontologically dependent upon the perceiving mind.Given the primacy of sensibilia, the epistemological "goal is now to leave one's perspective and imaginatively project oneself into other perspectives, even the possible ones inhumanly occupied, to experience the world as it would be without the thinker" (p. 213). According to this system, the perceiving [End Page 462] subject and the modernist artist become irrelevant because they can inhibit our experience and/or understanding of sensibilia. Eliminating the subject and effacing the author, therefore, become necessary so that "artistic creativity" (p. 173) is given free flow, which means that for art to achieve its goal of seeing "the world 'as far as possible as it is in itself, and not merely through the distorting medium of personal desire'" (p. 382), the death of the subject is mandatory—though this death of the subject differs considerably from Roland Barthes's, Michel Foucault's, and Paul de Man's. Once the subject is eliminated, which occurs in Woolf's novels according to Banfield, the novelist will be able to create a "method of multiple perspectives" which functions as a "route to wider knowledge" (p. 312) of sensibilia.In the last part of the book, Banfield examines how "Fry's aesthetic derives from analytic philosophy" (p. 248) and then argues that Woolf incorporates much of this aesthetic into her work. Fry makes a clear distinction between Impressionism and Post-Impressionism. Impressionism represents the "totality... (shrink)