Third-party punishment (TPP) has been shown to be an effective mechanism for maintaining human cooperation. However, it is puzzling how third-party punishment can be maintained, as punishers take on personal costs to punish defectors. Although there is evidence that punishers are preferred as partners because third-party punishment is regarded by bystanders as a costly signal of trustworthiness, other studies show that this signaling value of punishment can be severely attenuated because third-party helping is viewed as a stronger signal of trustworthiness (...) than third-party punishment. Third-party helpers donate their payoffs to victims of defection in games instead of punishing defectors as third-party punishers do. Then, under what circumstances can third-party punishment be maintained by costly signaling when helping is also present? We show that punishers are preferred over helpers by fourth-party individuals as their delegates to deter potential exploitation. This suggests that costly signaling can facilitate the maintenance of third-party punishment in partner choice with delegation interactions. (shrink)

He (和), or harmony, has traditionally been a central concept in Chinese thought, and to this day continues to shape the way in which people in China and East Asia think about ethics and politics. Yet, there is no systematic and comprehensive introduction of harmony as has been variously articulated in different Chinese schools. This edited volume aims to fill this gap. The individual contributions elaborate the conceptions of harmony as these were exemplified in central Chinese schools of thought, including (...) Daoism, Confucianism, Legalism, Mohism, Buddhism, and trace their impact on contemporary Chinese philosophy. The volume explores the various meanings and implications of harmony so as to consider its relevance as a value and virtue in the modern world. It provides an accessible but substantial introductory work for readers interested in learning about pertinent core concepts and theories in Chinese thought, as well as engages specialists in Chinese philosophy by explicating its implications for ethical, political, epistemological, and metaphysical reflection as the basic point of reference. (shrink)

Nearly a decade ago, Rafael Capurro has gradually shifted his attention towards the ideas of message and of messenger. In lieu of ‘information’, he proposes and develops a new direction of research he calls Angeletics that aims to examine the nature of message and messenger, both of which are inherently social. Coincidently, at about the same time, we witnessed the rise of social epistemology in Angelo-American analytic philosophy. This coincidence is interesting, because both Capurro’s Angeletics and social epistemology indicated a (...) departure from individualistic-orientedness in hermeneutics and traditional epistemology respectively. While social epistemology has earned its place and status in academia, especially in North America and Europe, Capurro’s Angeletics has yet to receive similar attention to which it deserves. Part of the reason for this, I think, is because of its formulation and terminology is relatively unfamiliar to those who do not share the same philosophical tradition. Hence, one remedy to this situation is to attempt to translate Angeletics in terms of social epistemology, and this – is the objective of the current paper. (shrink)

In Information and Computer Ethics (ICE), and, in fact, in normative and evaluative research of Information Technology (IT) in general, researchers have paid few attentions to the prudential values of IT. Hence, analyses of the prudential values of IT are mostly found in popular discourse. Yet, the analyses of the prudential values of IT are important for answering normative questions about people’s well-being. In this chapter, the author urges researchers in ICE to take the analyses of the prudential values of (...) IT seriously. A serious study of the analyses, he argues, will enrich the research of ICE. But, what are the analyses? The author will distinguish the analyses of the prudential values of IT, i.e. the prudential analysis, from other types of normative and evaluative analysis of IT. Then, the author will explain why prudential analyses are not taken seriously by the researchers in ICE, and argue why they deserve more attentions. After that, he will outline a framework to analyse and evaluate prudential analyses, and he will apply the framework to an actual prudential analysis. Finally, he will briefly conclude this chapter by highlighting the limits of the proposed framework and identifying the directions for future research. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 26.1 (2002) 224-238 [Access article in PDF] Bookmarks A Hanging Judge Denis Dutton "CORNERING THE MARKET ON CHUTZPAH," blared the headline on one review, and in tone it wasn't alone. It's not often that a book by a public intellectual has received as much media attention—mostly vilification and scorn—as Richard A. Posner's Public Intellectuals: A Study of Decline (Harvard University Press, $29.95). Three reasons for this (...) stand out. First, there's the sheer audacity of including a list of the top hundred public intellectuals, drawn from a larger list of 546 names. This invites endless dispute over how the list was generated, who is on it, who is left off, where each one stands, and why. Second, there is the fact that Posner has managed in the book to offend half of the public intellectuals you'd expect to be called on to review it—almost as though he made a list of potential reviewers and worked in a swipe at each. Finally, he has tapped into the deep antipathy humanist intellectuals have to seeing a beloved topic treated quantitatively, with statistics and applications of social and economic theory, replete with graphs and algebraic formulae. And after all, what topic is more beloved by the intellectuals than they themselves? That Posner would actually treat such important people as a demographic type, sorting them in terms of race, age, field, politics, sex—why, he even asks why so many are Jews. It's outrageous... and delicious.Definitions first. The idea of an intellectual, Posner says, should not be identified merely with having highbrow, cultivated tastes, being especially creative, or having high intelligence. All of these things are possible without being an intellectual, which Posner thinks ought to denote the application of the mind to "political matters in the broadest sense of that word, a sense that includes cultural matters when they are [End Page 224] viewed under the aspect of ideology, ethics, or politics (which may all be the same thing)." There is therefore a vague redundancy in the term "public intellectual," since the placing of ideas in a larger public context, acting as social critic, is what the intellectual most essentially does. In our age of vast communication media, it is also done con-spicuously in public, through op-eds, public radio interviews, and on TV clips with the regulation public-intellectual bookcase as a backdrop. This concern with larger moral issues means that for Posner paradigm individuals would therefore include the likes of John Dewey, Bertrand Russell, Hannah Arendt, Arthur Koestler, Edmund Wilson, Susan Sontag, and most powerfully in Posner's mind, George Orwell: people who write about literature, art, science, and so forth from a broadly political or ideological perspective. For example, when Allan Bloom writes about rock and roll, he is not doing so as a music critic but as a philosopher who sees it as a symptom and source of social degradation. That's echte public intellectual work (and rather bad work in this particular case, Posner believes). That it is done for a broader public is also a crux for Posner, who leaves omits John Rawls from his list, because as influential as Rawls is as a philosopher, he does not address a larger public in the way that Richard Rorty and Martha Nussbaum do.The decline referred to in Posner's title is a decline in the actual worth of public intellectuals' work, not in their media celebrity, which has grown roughly inversely to the value of what they do. This invidious situation has followed, in Posner's view, the proliferation of academics in the ranks of public intellectuals. From the nineteenth century, with such names as Thoreau, J. S. Mill, Herbert Spencer, Matthew Arnold, and Tocqueville, to well into the twentieth, with the likes of Max Eastman, Edmund Wilson, H. G. Wells, and Dwight Macdonald, the great tradition of public intellectuals had its life outside of universities. Although there remain nonacademic public intellectuals today—Susan Sontag, Roger Kimball, Tom Wolfe, Gore Vidal—they are a severely diminished species. Universities, which have expanded... (shrink)

Over the past year, our ethics service has had numerous consultations involving patients who use the emergency department for regular dialysis. Sometimes, they have access to outpatient hemodialysis that they forgo; other times, they've been “fired” from this kind of outpatient facility, and so the ED is their last option. In most of these cases, we're called because the patient is disruptive once admitted to the ICU and behavior plans haven't helped. But the call from a resident this March 2020 (...) morning was different, the patient had end‐stage renal disease and often missed hemodialysis, but he wasn't disruptive. “It's just that he comes in after using cocaine, and given scarcity with the coronavirus and ICU beds….” I have come to think that this is one of the more insidious effects of the pandemic: that there will be a resurgence of the view that some patients deserve health care by virtue of their compliant behavior and that those who are nonadherent don't. (shrink)

This book tries to look at human thought and action from a scientific perspective, and in the process, acquaints the reader with essential concepts about science and its history. It takes a broad look at our present troubles without overlooking some crucial historical, religious, and political causes but places science at the center stage. The author applies what he has learned throughout his career to go beyond science. After an introduction setting the scene and a review of the "scientific temper" (...) and the inexcusable ignorance of science by some leaders and many followers, the author turns his sharp vision to look at other issues. The most significant challenges are critical and global: climate change caused by our activities, stockpiles of nuclear weapons that are a constant threat, population growth, and increasing inequality at all levels. These problems do have a profound ethical character and threaten to end forever with our misery, producing a "catastrophic convergence". Written with rigor for all readers, with many references and infused with relevant quotations, the author's message is clear: we need to change our ways drastically and urgently, now or never. But he offers not much in terms of a solution, something done by many authors to sweeten the pill, because as he argues, beyond lofty declarations, there is no real solution as the clock runs down, leading to his dystopian view of the future. (shrink)

In 2008, renowned Australian composer Peter Sculthorpe remarked that almost everything he has written since the early 1960s has been influenced by Indigenous music “because that was a music … shaped by the landscape over 50,000 years.” 3 His preference for accumulating “an effect of relentless prolongation” through the use of long drones has seen his music fail, until recently, to appeal to an Australian ear attuned to Bach and Mozart. 4 His aim, however, has not been to satisfy the (...) European-trained ear, but to “mirror the Australian outback”; to capture a sense of time and space that many Australians have repeatedly failed to access. 5 Sculthorpe‟s efforts to form connections with the landscape are by no means singular; representations of the bush have dominated the arts from early settlement, albeit in a largely negative fashion. The contradiction between an accepted Australian vision of the landscape as empty, unwelcoming bush or desert, and the social reality of a nation living mainly in coastal communities has not gone unnoticed. 6 Nevertheless, contemplating this “accepted vision” alongside the lukewarm reception of Sculthorpe‟s work gives rise to the following question: what conclusions, if any, may be drawn from insistently negative representations of the landscape? In consideration of this question, I propose an analysis of two texts in which the representations of landscape have been overlooked in favour of feminist or classical readings: Barbara Baynton‟s Bush Studies and Joan Lindsay‟s Picnic at Hanging Rock. If “landscape is personal and tribal history made visible,” what is one to make of Bush Studies? 7 The parallels between Baynton‟s narratives of isolation and her own experiences cannot fully account for her portrayals of the bush as “a lonely, hostile place, antagonistic to its inhabitants,” where time recedes into the vast distances of the plains, and the past and future are uncertain. 8 Baynton‟s settlers, cut adrift from cultural and religious traditions, fail to form communities and conform to the notion that “where si gnificant tradition counts for little, places may be virtually without time,” leading to “no awareness of history.” 9 In short, Baynton‟s settlers are plagued with a sense of timelessness that appears to originate from perception, rather than the environment. (shrink)

Contemporary scholars in Chinese philosophy, Thaddaeus particularly concerned about Chinese philosophy and methodological issues. Of this paper is designed to make way for the study of Chinese philosophy, the discussion to commemorate him, the first part will describe Thaddaeus study of Chinese philosophy, methods and contribution to the idea, the latter part of the study will be my personal view of Chinese philosophy, methods to further to call upon and complement. Thaddaeus based on the fundamental principles of truth and goodness, (...) the dominant theme proposed research method will be grouped into eight themes of Chinese philosophy, including political, moral, dominate the day, nature and personnel mutual induction, root cause of all things, all things and personnel often said, heaven and earth and man were one, nature, etc., as the dominant theme. According to his own analysis, the subject of legislation contains several levels: first, tracing the history of philosophy, including research. Second, as stressed by modern hermeneutics domain blend method, should not abuse their own perspective on things not related. Third, the logic and meaning of words in semantic analysis. Fourth, and Western philosophy for appropriate comparison. Furthermore, I propose, study Chinese philosophy, Chinese philosophy begins with the reading and interpretation of the text. I was reading Chinese philosophy of the original Code's fundamental idea, known as "dynamic context ism", in this fundamental principle, read the philosophy of the original Code, one must first follow the general text interpretation of the principles, including 1, the context within the principles of, 2, Combines the same principle, 3, minimum change principle 4, the maximum reading principles. Secondly, to respect the characteristics of Chinese philosophical texts, as opposed to harass the landlords like to use the concept of metaphor in philosophy like to use the text; like to use relative Seeger argument, in philosophy like to use narrative, to show the image of the concept of root causes, rather than pure ideas. Finally, the text should also be considered provided by the author or school of their own interpretation of the principle. In accordance with the above method, after reading the text can be more broad philosophical texts on the historical context, and even on different philosophical traditions to be compared. The most important thing is to play the role of analysis and critique of reason, to make their own original ideas. Among contemporary scholars of Chinese Philosophy, Thaddeus Hang is most famous for his concern with methodological problems in studying Chinese Philosophy. This paper contains two parts: first, an exposition of Thaddeus Hang's own method of studying Chinese Philosophy; second, a deeper reflections on methodology in studying Chinese philosophy. Thaddeus Hang proposes a method of studying Chinese Philosophy by dominant themes. For him there are eight major dominant themes in Chinese philosophy: Politics, Morality, Heaven as Ruler, Mutual affection / response between All things and Human Affairs, the Origin of all things, the Constant Way of all things and Human Affairs, Unity of Heaven, Earth and Man, and, he added later, the Nature. For him, we can take these eight dominant themes as criteria to judge the difference and development of different schools and philosophers in Chinese philosophy. These eight dominant themes should be applied on the following four methodological lines: first, one should trace the origin in the history of philosophy, including the investigation by evidences; second, one should look for the fusion of horizons as emphasized by contemporary hermeneutics and avoid subjective arrogance by emphasizing one's idiosyncrasies on irrelevant matters; third, one should use logical analysis and semantic analysis; fourth, one should do some comparison with Western philosophy. In the second part, I redefine Chinese philosophy and propose several levels of methodological principles in reading and philosophizing on Chinese philosophical texts: First, on the level of general hermeneutic, I propose the principle of intra-textuality; the principle of coherence, the principle of minimum emendation, and the principle of maximal reading. Second, we should pay attention to the hermeneutic characteristics of Chinese philosophy: targeting Idea-Image rather than Pure Ideas, Chinese philosophy prefers to show the movement of meaning by metaphors more than concepts, narrative of inner connected events more than logical argumentation. Third, one should pay attention to the hermeneutic principles or philosophy of language proposed by the author or the school of thoughts under investigation. The historical contextualization and comparative studies should base themselves on the previous work. Most importantly, an original way of philosophizing, based on analytic and critical skills, is invited in any philosophical study, no matter Chinese or Western. (shrink)

Is ecology in the process of becoming the object of our contemporary passions, in the same way that Fascism was in the 30s, or Communism under Stalin? In The New Ecological Order, Luc Ferry offers a penetrating critique of the ideological root of the "Deep Ecology" movement spreading throughout the United States, Germany, and France. Traditional ecological movements, or "democratic ecology," seek to protect the environment of human societies; they are pragmatic and reformist. But another movement has become the refuge (...) both of nostalgic counterrevolutionaries and of leftist illusions. This is "deep ecology." Its followers go beyond practical critique of human greed and waste: they call into question the very possibility of human coexistence with nature. Ferry launches his critique by examining early European legal cases concerning the status and rights of animals, including a few notorious cases where animals were brought to trial, found guilty, and publicly hanged. He then demonstrates that German Romanticism embraced certain key ideas of the deep ecology movement concerning the protection of animals and the environment. Later adopted by the Nazis, many of these ideas point to a profoundly antihumanistic component of deep ecology that is compatible with totalitarianism. Ferry shows how deep ecology casts aside all the gains of human autonomy since the Enlightenment. Far from denying our "duty in relation to nature," The New Ecological Order offers a bracing caution - against the dangers of environmental claims and, more important, against the threat to democracy contained in the deep ecology doctrine when pushed to its extreme. (shrink)

Is ecology in the process of becoming the object of our contemporary passions, in the same way that Fascism was in the 30s, or Communism under Stalin? In _The New Ecological Order_, Luc Ferry offers a penetrating critique of the ideological roots of the "Deep Ecology" movement spreading throughout Germany, France, and the United States. Traditional ecological movements, or "democratic ecology," seek to protect the environment of human societies; they are pragmatic and reformist. But another movement has become the refuge (...) both of nostalgic counterrevolutionaries and of leftist illusions. This is "deep ecology." Its followers go beyond practical critiques of human greed and waste: they call into question the very possibility of human coexistence with nature. The human species is no longer at the center of the world, but subject to a new god called Nature. For these purists, man can only soil the harmony of the universe. In order to secure natural equilibrium, the only solution is to grant rights to animals, to trees, and to rocks. Ferry launches his critique by examining early European legal cases concerning the status and rights of animals, including a few notorious cases where animals were brought to trial, found guilty, and publicly hanged. He then demonstrates that German Romanticism embraced certain key ideas of the deep ecology movement concerning the protection of animals and the environment. Later adopted by the Nazis, many of these ideas point to a profoundly antihumanistic component of deep ecology that is compatible with totalitarianism. Ferry shows how deep ecology casts aside all the gains of human autonomy since the Enlightenment. He deciphers the philosophical and political assumptions of a movement that threatens to infantalize human society by preying on the fear of the authority of a new theological-political order. Far from denying our "duty in relation to nature," _The New Ecological Order_ offers a bracing caution—against the dangers of environmental claims and, more important, against the threat to democracy contained in the deep ecology doctrine when pushed to its extreme. "A book of intellectual power, full of insights, invention, and not without temerity, from one of the best political philosophers today."—_Le Figaro_ "Few books have analyzed in depth this phenomenon of the ecological movement as the most recent book by Luc Ferry has done.... It is a book that absolutely must be read."—_Le Point_. (shrink)

A curious irony hangs over the two similes of the lantern and the clepsydra which Empedocles used to describe his theories of seeing and breathing. Similes were a feature of Empedocles' style, and it is clear that on these two in particular he has lavished considerable care. They have been preserved in their entirety, as almost the longest continuous quotations which Aristotle makes from any author. Despite such auspicious beginnings, these two similes have proved peculiarly resistant to modern attempts at (...) interpretation. The reason for this, I shall try to show, is that certain features in the two similes took on a spurious significance as a result of Plato's remodelling of Empedocles' theories. Difficulties of interpretation have been caused by trying to read back these innovations of Platonic theory into details of the similes that in their original context were fortuitous and inessential.In Plato vision occurs when fire leaves the eye and joins fire outside to form a single compacted body, along which movements from the visible object are communicated as sensations to the eye.According to Theophrastus, Empedocles explained vision as the result of effluences which are given off from objects and enter the appropriate pores of the eye. Dark effluences enter the watery pores of the eyes, and bright effluences enter the fiery pores of the eye. As I have tried to show in an earlier article, Empedocles distinguished good and bad vision, by day and by night, for eyes with a predominance of fire and for eyes with a predominance of water. Good vision results when the dark and light elements which enter the eye are equally balanced. Poor vision results either when there is too much fire in the eye, so that we are dazzled, or when there is too much water in the eye, so that our vision is dimmed. In the whole of his detailed and one would have thought exhaustive account, Theophrastus says nothing about fire leaving the eye as a factor in the act of vision. (shrink)

Hiện tại, hệ thống JSTOR đã có một giao diện web rất thân thiện. Họ cũng đã tăng cường các mục thông tin bài vở phổ thông, có tính cách phổ biến cập nhật thông tin khoa học. Nhiều thông tin khai thác từ lịch sử dữ liệu hàn lâm cũng rất lý thú, nhờ vào hệ thống lớn tích lũy lâu ngày của 2600 tạp chí hàn lâm hàng đầu, từ 1200 nhà xuất bản của 57 quốc gia.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Myth Of ReadingAlfred LouchThe Myth of Theory, by William Righter; x 7 224 pp. Cambridge University Press, 1994, $49.95.IThe critics mill about in the welcome break between interminable and terminal conference sessions, eager to see and be seen. William Righter wanders about, listening and telling anyone who stays to listen what he hears, musing all the while on what each of them has done, or tried to do, (...) or failed to do. One hopes for a dénouement—something, perhaps, like the tableau at the end of The Inspector General: critics frozen in typical and typically ludicrous attitudes. Alas, the prospective tone of ironic detachment is not sustained. Righter is too close to his perambulating colleagues; he shares too many of their academic reflexes to keep the requisite distance. If there is a tableau at the end, the reader must imagine it, and place Righter along with the rest, caught in (may we call them?) Gallosaxon attitudes.It seems to be an important conference. Everyone’s milling about. One wonders, do they have anything else to do? Here’s Derrida, de Man, Barthes, Hillis Miller, Booth, Bersani, Lyotard, Poulet, and Todorov. The remarks of one seem to flow seamlessly into the allegedly counter-claims of the next. It’s all amazingly friendly. Of course there’s that rude fellow Eagleton, who says: “Methodologically speaking, literary criticism is a non-subject.... If literary theory is a kind of meta-criticism [End Page 218], a critical reflection on criticism, then it follows that it too is a non-subject” (p. 210). But don’t mind him. For criticism is about literature and literature exists. So these promenading and posturing critics can’t be mere phantasms of brains fevered by much reading, or anyway by references to many books.Curious that the first critic available for a chat is Leavis. A bit of nostalgia that. I suppose most English critics of sufficient vintage recall their Leavis-inflicted wounds the way they might reminisce about the bit of shrapnel they got in the way of on Omaha Beach and bear now with pride. But my, how temperate he appears here! How on earth can he come across so bland? Remember him saying: Snow does not begin to exist as a novelist. Now that was Leavis. You may have disagreed with him, you may have thought him silly, but you certainly understood him, as one comprehends a slap in the face. But here: “... Leavis takes on vividly and personally the total responsibility of consciousness for a wide area of assumptions that obviously trail their implications behind them” (p. 4). This is an extraordinarily spongy way of saying that Leavis knew he was right, and if you didn’t agree with him, a humiliating place in a cheap and tawdry consumer society awaited you.Still, it is a lucky thing that Leavis appears first on the scene. As a critic to help frame more exactly the kinds of questions about literary theory and practice Righter wants to ask, Leavis offers an easily recognizable starting point. He somehow manages to take the high moral ground. You want to ask, how is it that Elijah’s mantle descends on him? Does he compel assent only by the stridency of his words, and not by an ostensibly rational way in which his critical judgments hang together?A pity if this should be so, because the point of Leavisite diatribes, though not their excesses, is close to the hearts of passionate readers. Such readers (ourselves perhaps) read judgmentally. A book bowls us over. Describing the experience we are tempted to draw invidious comparisons to other books, which perhaps move us less, or not at all. We say of minor things that come our way: it’s not Shakespeare (or D. H. Lawrence). If you agree the project comes to an end. If you don’t, you want to know what it is that bowls us over, and why we don’t find those qualities in your favorite author. You want an explanation of a particular kind, not one that adduces new facts, but one that allows us to appreciate how the case at dispute... (shrink)

This scrupulously researched and rigorously argued book is the first to interpret and evaluate the central topic of Martin Heidegger's philosophy--his celebrated "Question of Being"--in the context of the full range of Heidegger's thought. With this comprehensive approach, Herman Philipse distinguishes in unprecedented ways the center from the periphery, the essential from the incidental in Heidegger's philosophy. Among other achievements, this allows him to shed new light on the controversial relationship between Heidegger's life and thought--in particular the connections between his (...) philosophy and his involvement with Nazism.Philipse begins by explaining which problems an interpretation of Heidegger's question of being should solve, and he specifies which type of interpretation is the best basis for an evaluation of Heidegger's thought. He then identifies various strands or leitmotifs in Heidegger's idea of being, and shows how these strands hang together in the philosopher's work. In doing so, Philipse offers new insights into Heidegger's views on such subjects as human existence, authenticity, logic, and language, and into his readings of such philosophers as Aristotle, Kant, Hegel, and Nietzsche. Philipse then integrates into his interpretation of Heidegger's overall theory the latest scholarship about the philosopher's engagement with Nazism. Finally, Philipse examines the fundamental structures of Heidegger's philosophy and assesses whether Heidegger's views are true, probable, or possess some other epistemic or existential value.As the most thorough interpretation of Heidegger's theory of being now available, this work represents a new phase in the vigorous debate about the philosopher's life and works. (shrink)

The Abrahamic tradition that the Arabs value most was ḥajj. The ḥajj, which means to visit Kaʿba was the greatest means of getting closer to Allāh. The Kaʿba was the house of Allāh. And the visitors of the Kaʿba were Allāh’s guests. For this reason, the Arabs used to great respect to the visitors and they never used to attack a man in the ḥarem (the area around the Kaʿba). The same respect included visitors’ travels to the Kaʿba. There were (...) two Abrahamic traditions that ensured the safety of visitors and sacrifices: Ḥaram months and qalāid. Ḥaram months were Dhū l-Qaʿdah, Dhū l-Ḥijjah, Muḥarram and Rajab. And the Arabs did not used to attack anyone in those months. For visits outside the ḥaram months, the visitors used to use the qalāid as a primitive visa. Qalāid is the plural of the word qilāda, meaning necklace. The Arab, who saw the qilādas, used to understand that the person who wore the qilāda wanted to go to the Kaʿba or had returned home from the Kaʿba. Qilādas used to be knitted from wool ropes and they used to be hung on animals’ neck or humps. Sometimes horseshoes used to hang on these qilādas. On the way back from Kaʿba, the barks of the ḥarem trees used to hang on the qilādas instead of the horseshoes. The Qurʾān orders Muslims not to disrespect the qilādas. This order also reveals that the Qurʾān recognizes the qilāda tradition. Allāh’s Apostle (sallallaahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) and Ṣaḥāba are also known to continue this tradition.Summary: Ḥajj was the most important worship of the Arabs in the pre-Islamic period. Human and commodity mobility in the ḥajj had an important place in the life of the Meccans who lived in land unfit for agriculture. This fact is expressed as follows in Abraham’s (Ibrāhīm al-Khalīl) prayer: “Our Lord! Lo! I have settled some of my posterity in an uncultivable valley near unto Thy holy House, our Lord! That they may establish proper worship; so incline some hearts of men that they may yearn toward them, and provide Thou them with fruits in order that they may be thankful.” (Ibrahim 14:37) The Arabs who lived in various parts of the Arabian Peninsula used to come to Mecca during the ḥajj season and present their sacrifices. They also used to buy their needs from nearby markets. These markets were also places where traders had the opportunity to sell their products.Because the Arabian Peninsula is unfavorable in terms of climate and soil, many Arab tribes used to raid and attack other tribes to sustain their existence. It is even known that some Arabs proud of their raids. The attacks only used to stop in the ḥaram months (Dhū l-Qaʿdah, Dhū l-Ḥijjah, Muḥarram and Rajab). Because of the prohibition of fighting in the ḥaram months, the visitors used to visit the Kaʿba with confidence. Thanks to this truce, the trade goods carried by visitors used to reach to Mecca with confidence.It was possible that the visits outside of the ḥaram months were safe. However, it was necessary to follow some traditions in order to achieve this confidence. Visitors to the Kaʿba used to use some signs that they were visitors to the Kaʿba. One of these signs was qilāda (necklace) hanging on the neck or hump of the animal. The person wearing qilāda was Allāh’s guest, and his sacrifice was the property of Allāh. For this reason, no Arab would to dare to attack these visitors and property. Because of the Arab reverence for the Kaʿba, visitors wearing qilādas used to come to the Kaʿba and present their sacrifices throughout the year. The sacrifices had an important place in the livelihood of the poor.Qilādas were mostly used for visits outside the ḥaram months. The qilādas used to hang on the necks of the animals shipped to the Kaʿba as sacrifice. However, it is also known that qilādas are sometimes hung on hump. People who did not deliver sacrifices (animals) to the Kaʿba used to hang the qilāda his neck to show that he was a visitor to the Kaʿba. Similarly, it is known that people who sacrificed their animals on the Kaʿba hang the qilāda their neck on the way back. The qilādas fitted on the way to the Kaʿba were made of ropes spun from wool or hair. Sometimes horseshoes used to hang on these qilādas. Ḥarem plants (grass, tree bark) used to use in the qilādas on the way back.The Qurʾān orders Muslims not to disrespect the qilādas. This order also reveals that the Qurʾān recognizes the qilāda tradition. The word qalāid is mentioned twice in the Qurʾān: “O ye who believe violate not the sanctity of the symbols of Allāh, nor of the sacred month, nor of the animals brought for sacrifice, nor the qalāid, nor the people resorting to the sacred house, seeking of the Bounty and good pleasure of their Lord.” (Al Māʼidah 5:2), “Allāh made the Kaʿba, the sacred house, an asylum of security of men as also the sacred months, the animals for offerings, and the qalāid.” (Al Māʼidah 5:97) Considering the practices of the qilāda, it is understood that qilādas are a kind of visa. It is understood that all practices related to the visit to the Kaʿba, especially the ḥajj, have an aim to satisfy the material-spiritual needs of those who come there for the purpose of visiting and trading, as well as those who reside in the Kaʿba. Therefore, it will not be far away to say that qilādas can be used today for the same purpose. For example, labels, banderols, visas and passports can be used instead of ropes, horseshoes and plants. On the other hand, the meaning of the āyāt (verse) in which the word qalāid is mentioned is not limited to the Arabs. The same āyāt declare that qilādas are a development (qiyām) instrument for people. Therefore, the qilāda has a meaning potential beyond the 7th century and the inhabitants of this century. (shrink)

This essay looks at the concept of AKEDAH, the essence of which is the travail of the human condition and the trust in vindication and victory, as a salient and deep metaphor for bioethics. The author first delineates the symbol, then shows its theological and ethical significance, and finally suggests its bioethical applications.The LORD said, “Go get Isaac, your only son, the one you dearly love! Take him to the land of Moriah, and I will show you a mountain where (...) you must sacrifice him to me on the fires of an altar.” So Abraham got up early the next morning and chopped wood for the fire. He put a saddle on his donkey and left with Isaac and two servants for the place where God had told him to go.Genesis 22There is silence all around. The Baptist appears, and cries: “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” Soon after that comes Jesus, and in the knowledge that He is the coming Son of Man lays hold of the wheel of the world to set it moving on that last revolution which is to bring all ordinary history to a close. It refuses to turn, and He throws Himself upon it. Then it does turn; and crushes Him. The wheel rolls onward, and the mangled body of the one immeasurably great Man, who was strong enough to think of Himself as the spiritual ruler of mankind and to bend history to His purpose, is hanging upon it still. That is His victory and His reign. (shrink)

There is a well-known scene from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer that illustrates what might be considered benign manipulation: Tom has the job of whitewashing a fence but would rather spend the time with friends. By feigning enthusiasm for the job he manages to get his friends to hang around and do it for him. They even pay to do it - with various little items that he later trades for..

If the greatest philosopher in the world finds himself upon a plank wider than actually necessary, but hanging over a precipice, his imagination will prevail, though his reason convince him of his safety. Many cannot bear the thought without a cold sweat. I will not state all its effects.This project explores phobia through twelve videos and many notes–absurd fears, where there is nothing to fear, really. Pascal's philosopher standing on the plank above the abyss knows there is nothing to fear. (...) He knows the plank is large enough. But it does not help. It is as if his vertigo were beyond the reach of his philosophy.When Descartes is attacked by thieves on a boat crossing the Elbe, he does not panic. He draws... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:After Thermopylae: The Oath of Plataea and the End of the Graeco-Persian Wars by Paul CartledgeMatthew A. SearsPaul Cartledge. After Thermopylae: The Oath of Plataea and the End of the Graeco-Persian Wars. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. xxx + 203 pp. 4 black-and-white maps, 9 black-and-white figs. Cloth, $24.95.This brief book employs the controversial fourth-century Oath of Plataea, inscribed on stone in the Attic deme of Acharnae, as (...) a hook on which to hang a lively and surprisingly thorough treatment of the Persian Wars—and Classical Greek history more generally. Writing for Oxford’s “Emblems of Antiquity” series, Cartledge aims to educate a wide general audience, an audience this book certainly deserves.From the outset, Cartledge wades into the interminable debate concerning which ancient battle, especially those of the Graeco-Persian wars, was most important for subsequent Western history. With Herodotus, many consider the Athenian-dominated Salamis to be the decisive clash, although, as Cartledge rightly reminds the reader, the largely Spartan victory at Plataea was the final triumph of the Greeks over the Persians. Even after Salamis, it was a close-run thing; Plataea ensured that the Persian king would never again send his armies into mainland Greece. Cartledge, though, does not provide a straightforward narrative of the Battle of Plataea nor of the wider struggle between the patriotic Greek poleis and the immense empire of Darius and Xerxes. Rather, he situates the Battle of Plataea and Athens’ commemoration of it on stone within a much broader context of Greek history in order to reveal how the Greeks remembered— and at times vigorously contested—their own past.After a very clear introductory chapter, with a succinct statement of the book’s main themes, chapter 2 provides a close reading of the inscription itself, along with a useful introduction to epigraphy. Cartledge takes the majority opinion concerning the oath’s historicity, namely, that the oath is literally and verbally inauthentic and belongs not to 479, but is rather an emblem of fourth-century Athenian propaganda. Several factors tell against reading the inscription as an accurate reflection of something that was sworn by the Greeks before the battle, including the conspicuous absence of this particular oath from fifth-century literary sources and the peculiar blending of military titles on the stone, such as the Athenian taxiarch with the Spartan enomotarch. In order to provide context for the oath’s inscription and presentation in Acharnae, Cartledge outlines the post-479 Greek world, highlighting Athenian self-presentation in the period after the [End Page 489] King’s Peace and during the Lycurgan era. The stele seems to have been inscribed shortly after Chaeronea, when the need for propaganda extolling the glorious Athenian past had never been greater. The ephebic oath that also appears on the stele, which implies a movement for military reform, reinforces Cartledge’s impression that the politically and militarily precarious situation after 338 was the background for this inscription. The technocrat Lycurgus, who dominated Athens in this period, was a great admirer of Sparta, which might partly explain why the Spartan-led triumph of Plataea, along with the Spartan-inspired institution of the ephebeia, feature prominently on this monument supposedly designed to highlight the past achievements of Athens.Chapter 3 treats the oath as a religious document. Along with some general observations about Greek religious practice, Cartledge focuses on Athena and Ares, the two gods explicitly mentioned in connection with the oath. That Athena should appear is hardly surprising, but Cartledge pauses briefly over the inclusion of Ares, who, despite being a full member of the Olympian pantheon, was rarely invoked directly by the Greeks. In the martial context of this inscription, however, Ares’ presence makes a great deal of sense, especially alongside the warrior goddess Athena. The chapter ends with an interesting discussion of stasis as a consequence of poor religious observance. As Cartledge reminds us, the Athenians, with their sometimes tumultuous political history, most obviously in the wake of the Peloponnesian War, would have been particularly keen to avoid stasis and the religious impiety that leads to it. In our age of skepticism, it... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Aquinas’s Theory of Natural Law: An Analytic Reconstruction by Anthony J. LisskaV. Bradley LewisAnthony J. Lisska. Aquinas’s Theory of Natural Law: An Analytic Reconstruction. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. Pp. xv + 320. Paper, $24.95.This volume aims to provide an explication of the natural law theory of St. Thomas Aquinas “consistent with the expectation of philosophers in the analytic tradition” (10–11, 17). Accordingly, the author begins, in the first (...) three chapters, by reviewing the recent history of Anglo-American metaethics, aligning himself broadly with those critics of analytic ethics like G. E. M. Anscombe, Alasdair MacIntyre, John Finnis, Martha Nussbaum, and Henry Veatch, who have argued for a recovery of Aristotelian moral theory, against varieties of intuitionism, non-cognitivism, and neo-Kantianism. Lisska’s principal objective is to present a reconstructed natural law theory based primarily on Aquinas’s discussion in questions 90–97 of the prima secundae of the Summa theologiae (a translation of these questions is appended to the book). This he offers mostly in the fourth, fifth and eighth chapters of the book. The sixth chapter is a critique of John Finnis’s account of natural law and the seventh is an exposition of the views of Henry [End Page 526] Veatch. The ninth chapter presents some suggestions on how the author’s account can illuminate controversies over the grounding of human rights, and the tenth is a brief conclusion.The three introductory chapters consist mainly of a review and endorsement of the critics of academic ethics since Moore’s Prıncipia Ethıca. Having accepted arguments for the inadequacy of modern ethics, Lisska argues for the recovery of Aquinas’s views which he sees as in fundamental continuity with Aristotelian ethics (84, 89, 100, 102–105, 108, 134–36). His central thesis is that natural law is a “second-order inquiry” based on a realist metaphysics of the human person as defined by a set of dispositional properties, the realization of which constitutes Aristotelian eudaimonia and Thomistic beatitudo (17, 104–106, 131–37, 152–55, 186, 195–201). Moreover, Lisska contends that Aristotelian “eudaimonism” constitutes an adequate account of moral obligation: what he calls, after Veatch, “obligatory teleology” (107–109, 121, 202–205, 235).At the core of Lisska’s account, then, is a metaphysical dispute that pits Aristotelian essentialism against modern reductionist ontology. This metaphysical core is separated from any theological implications in the fifth chapter (especially 119–23, 137) and Lisska reinforces his metaphysical thesis by appealing to Saul Kripke’s discussion of natural kinds and the early work of Hilary Putnam (97–99, 125, 206–209). Given the centrality of metaphysical argument, a critique of Finnis’s theory goes without saying, and Lisska devotes a chapter to it, adding another to expound Henry Veatch’s contrary view.While this book undertakes an important effort to recover a workable natural law theory—especially in its commendable stress on metaphysical questions—it is, as a whole, less satisfactory than it might have been. A good part of this owes to the book’s abstraction from historical questions. No sustained attention is devoted to the problems that accompanied the reception of Aristotle by Christian theologians, nor to the place of natural law in Aquinas’s overall understanding of morality. The former point is not so surprising, given the book’s analytic concerns; the latter, however, carries more serious theoretical implications. Why is it, for example, that natural law takes up so little space compared to the questions on happiness, human acts, and the habits and virtues in the prima secundae, not to mention the detailed treatments of the virtues and vices in the secunda secundae? Similarly, where Aquinas stresses that natural law as law is directed to the common good (Iallae 90.2), Lisska treats it mostly as a guide to “self-realization.”This issue suggests the tensions between Aristotle and Aquinas, tensions that seem to show themselves precisely in Aquinas’s discussion of the very notion of natural law, a notion that has no equivalent in Aristotle. This question hangs over Lisska’s brief treatment of obligation, in particular, since that concept is also lacking explicit treatment in... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Japan Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies:Report on the 39th Annual Meeting August 18–19, 2021Kunihiko TerasawaThe 2021 annual conference of the Japan Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies was held online by Zoom. Five presentations were given on the theme of "Religion and Literature."August 18 (Three Presentations)First, President of the Japan-SBCS and professor emeritus at Sophia University, Yutaka Tanaka, presented "Hosokawa Garasha (Gracia)," which was about a Kirishitan (Christian) woman martyr in (...) the sixteenth century (1563–1600 ce) in Japan. Garasha was a wife of the feudal lord Hosokawa in Kyushu. The enemy attacked Garasha's castle. Instead of being killed by enemies, for the sake of honor, she chose to be killed by ritual suicide by her own vassals. Garasha's servants wanted to die with her according to tradition, but she let them run away. The servants testified about her death to Jesuit missionaries. According to the missionaries, Garasha chose to be killed by her vassals because it was honorable as the wife of Lord Hosokawa. If she would have chosen to run away, her husband would have become anti-Christian, persecuting missionaries, and believers. In this way, she became a martyr. According to missionaries, Garasha always loved reading the Imitatio Christi longing for the experience of Christ's cross.Tanaka explained the story of Garasha was spread in the sixteenth–seventeenth-century Europe through Jesuit missionaries. This story was composed to become an opera of Mulier Fortis (a brave lady) and played at the palace of Vienna in 1698.Second, Kunihiko Terasawa, an associate professor at Wartburg College, presented about his research in South Korea and Hong Kong during his sabbatical in 2019–2020. Terasawa's research project was titled "Interreligious/Transnational Solidarity of Religion as Resistance to Ultranationalist Populism in East Asia and Pacific Rim." In South Korea, he was a visiting professor at Sogang University, a Jesuit college, focused on how reconciliation could be possible between Korea and Japan through Buddhist-Christian dialogue. Terasawa visited churches, temples, Christian/Buddhist universities, and Seoul National University for discussions with youth and scholars, and presented four times during his time. He also interviewed comfort women and visited the Sodemon prison that the Japanese' occupation government built. Terasawa was [End Page 389] eventually interviewed by a national daily newspaper for their piece, titled, "The Improvement of Korea-Japan Relationship through Repentance and Forgiveness."Terasawa was also a visiting professor at Hang Seng University of Hong Kong and taught a course on "Asian Religions and Society." Terasawa interviewed students, scholars, and religious leaders, and found that many Christians students are involved in democratic movements. However, it has not been easy to create solidarity between Christianity and Buddhism for democratic movements. Hong Kong Buddhists have had resentment toward Christianity due to the British Hong Kong government's leniency toward Christianity. The Buddhists, therefore, are more inclined to support the current Hong Kong government backed by the Chinese Communist government. The Buddhists appear to be politically indifferent, focusing on inner mindfulness or meditations. Thus, Hong Kong students and professors are focused less on past resentments and more on the future, and thus are vital in creating solidarity among Christians, Buddhists, and Muslims for democracy and human rights.Third, Yoshio Tsuruoka, a professor emeritus at Tokyo University, presented "How to read the poems of St. John the Cross with reference to the 'language' philosophy of Shizuteru Ueda." Ueda was a professor at Kyo to University, specializing in the philosophies of Nishida Kitaro and Meister Eckhart. Tsuruoka explained St. John the Cross'sjourney, most notably, how he became a mystic in his relation to Teresa de Ávila and ended up writing poems during his confinement time. His poems are "songs of love,""dark night," and "fire of love," and symbolize the romantic relationship between lover and loved without particular nouns. This love relationship of "I"–"Thou" implies his love relationship with God. Tsuruoka explored the love language of "I"–"Thou" of John the Cross which indicates the essence of language. Language is not just a written word or descriptive one, but an utterance from a human subject of person to the "other" person in relationship. That is why... (shrink)

Catullus has been looking everywhere for his friend Camerius. In Pompey's arcade he has accosted all the girls who were hanging about there, but they have calmly disavowed knowledge of his friend's whereabouts. At line 9 Catullus breaks into flagitatio, the beginning of which is desperately corrupt: attempts to emend avelte have been made, but it seems more realistic to assume that avelte is the result of some corruption of quas vultu at the beginning of line 8, and that it (...) has ousted the original beginning of line 9. In terms of a flagitatio—the girls are pessimae inasmuch as they are allegedly withholding what is Catullus' own, his friend, from him—the sort of word one expects is redde or cedo. Hence reddatis here, merely exempli gratia, would be one conceivable way of introducing the demand. (shrink)

back in about 1984 or 1985, when I'd been in graduate school for a couple of years at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, I started hanging around with three chemists who shared a house. They were colleagues of my roommate, a chemistry grad student. One of them, no kidding, was named Lloyd A. Bumm, who would always introduce himself by saying, "My name is the best joke I know." Lloyd was a quirky, curious guy who often explored unusual places around (...) the City, unlike the typical chemistry grad student. For instance, he frequently would head into Chicago on Sunday mornings to go to this crazy street market he knew about. He invited me to go with him one weekend; he was looking for a power supply, whatever... (shrink)

This work contains thirteen essays that constitute Hartshorne's final contributions to "technical philosophy." Although they deal with a wide range of topics, they hang together in terms of the common themes of creativity and freedom. I will discuss these essays in terms of three groups.First, it should be noted that five of the essays have never before been published; hence they are welcome additions to philosophical literature in process thought. One example is "My Eclectic Approach to Phenomenology." Here Hartshorne (...) relies on both his experiences studying under Husserl and Heidegger in Germany in the 1920s (he wrote the first review in English of Heidegger's Being and Time) and his thorough knowledge of.. (shrink)

Logic in Action/Doron Avital Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide (Napoleon Bonaparte) Introduction -/- This book was born on the battlefield and in nights of secretive special operations all around the Middle East, as well as in the corridors and lecture halls of Western Academia best schools. As a young boy, I was always mesmerized by stories of great men and women of action at fateful cross-roads of decision-making. Then, like as today, (...) I felt the full weight of the moment of truth as it confronts the individual, the man or woman of action, with the imminent necessity to decide. Alongside, as I was climbing up the ladder of education, I found myself just as well captivated by the great intellectual stories of our times, in particular 20th century analytic philosophy and, at its core, the machinery of modern logic. How do then the cool contemplative modes of the philosophical and analytic outlooks, that are better fitting of the philosopher's armchair at the fireplace, hang together with the heat of the battlefield or the angst of the ticking clock of time left to the completion of a daring special operation? Growing up I was pondering exactly that. Not accidently, and in fact as consequence, I have chosen a course in life that challenged me to visit the poles of both theory and practice. I set myself on a mission to unravel the tension between the contemplative inquiry, supposedly theoretical, aiming at the logical structure of things, and the uncompromising test of life and action. The puzzle of the gap between theory and practice has become ever since the guiding question of my life. -/- Not long ago, I met two friends, Avner Shor, a veteran combat soldier of the special forces unit I eventually commanded, and Aviram Halevi, a fellow officer with whom I served. Why will we not put into writing the ideas that guided us during our years of military action, we wondered. At that time, I used to deliver the keynote lectures to the senior officers' course of Israel central intelligence organization, the Mossad. For this I already had to put some of these ideas in writing. Avner was quick to introduce me with a notable publisher and even helped me write the first chapter. With Aviram I sat to many meetings, where he would challenge me with key questions, and we followed them with memories of operations and battles, aiming to draw the required lessons. This served me well when I finally sat down to write the first draft of the book. The result was more extensive than me and my friends had expected. I had to add a particularly long chapter dealing with the story of modern philosophy and logic. This was required, I felt, as no decision-making process lives in an intellectual vacuum. Knowingly or subconsciously, the intellectual climate of the time guides us for better or worse with the decisions we finally take. The initial draft was naturally cumbersome and inaccessible. But here I had the privilege of meeting a particularly talented editor, Rami Rothholtz. I found in Rami both an editor and a critical reader. As an infantry combat soldier at youth and now a senior journalist and editor, Rami insisted on simplifying and refining my ideas. Had it not been for his work, this book would have been literally unreadable. *** I opened my book with a brief description of a single night of a special operation deep at the Lebanon Bekaa valley, far away from Israel northern border. The mission was to kidnap a senior terror leader known to be holding in captivity an Israeli pilot. This was also the last special operation I commanded in my military career. A single special operation night, but what had to precede it? For sure, many months of intense and skillful preparations. What is Planning? This is the question with which I open up chapter (2) of the book. I confront in this chapter two approaches to planning. The first is the one I saw as a mission to myself to cultivate in my many years of military service. The second is the one I saw as representing a deep-rooted fallacy that holds a firm grip on today's conventional wisdom about planning. To further examine the logic of the competing models, I was required in chapter (3) to analyze the concept of "The Standard". I argue that the false model of planning has its roots in an attitude of an uncompromising adherence to the power of literal obedience to standards and rules. The standard, or what is outlined by a rule as prescribing a future course of action, is seen as an answer to the fundamental tension between theory (planning) and practice (execution). I argue in contrast that the standard does not produce an answer but rather what I call: "A Well-Defined Question". In essence, it is a meticulously-well-planned invitation to exercise a fresh judgment. A judgement that has as an anchor the default answer that the standard produces but is open to extension as it confronts the new frame of reference of the test of reality. In chapter (4), I present a new tool for planning and execution: "The Polygon of Risks" or "The Polygon of Execution". The Polygon is a geometric illustration of the underlying tension that exists between all dimensions of the operational project. The construction and conceptualization of the trade-offs that exist between the various dimensions - segments of the polygon - is the first topic on the planner's agenda. I position the concepts of "Daring" and "Taking Proactive and Well-Informed Risks" as necessary logical constituents of the polygon and show how in contrast the false model of planning is responsible for an operational culture that is risk-averse. It encourages, in fact, the piling up of false securities at the segments' level that eventually lead to the collapse of the polygon. The necessary trade-offs relationships that exist between the segments of the polygon express the fundamental tension between partnership and competition: partnership in a joint goal and competition over resources, both material and abstract. When this tension is not managed well, that is, when the players' local optimizations overshadow the global optimization required for the success of the project, the execution polygon collapses. In this scenario, we may find the setting of the bar of "High Standards" in a players' spheres of responsibility to conceal a hidden agenda of personal insurances taken against a possible failure. Once the overall risk is not mitigated by way of collaborative joint executional dialogue, the process that leads to a collapse of the polygon is literally unstoppable. *** In chapter (5), I discuss "(Fateful) Decisions". I examine the way in which we should translate the polygon into sequential critical decisions on the timeline. The execution polygon is not a rigid scaffolding but a dynamic conceptual illustration of the -/- project. It will need now to be converted into successive decision junctions. We will find the content of a decision and its timing on the timeline to be inseparable. The right decision is the one that is taken at the right time. The moment of decision is in fact the last moment of deliberation, the first moment available for action, i.e. the first possible "Can" is also the latest possible "Must". Deciding too soon is analog to the "Jumping of the Gun". The decision maker is forcing a pre-conceived answer to a state of affairs not ripe for an answer, e.g. the target in the shooting range is not yet erected. Late to decide and the decision maker may envision what he or she should have done but reality is no longer available for them to harness it right, e.g. consider a tennis player's frustration when reviewing a too-late-to-react move in the video replay. I review in this chapter many fateful decisions, both historical, from Napoleon's Waterloo, to a Bridge Too Far of WWII, to the failed rescue attempt of American hostages at the time of the Iranian Revolution, as well as fateful decisions I had to take in the course of my military life, both in combat and in special operations, and show the sense in which they all answer to our analysis. The theme of chapter (6) is "The Moment of Truth". This is the moment when everything is on the line and from which there is no turning back. I discuss the formative repetitive structure of the schooling and simulation phase and contrast it with the "One Shot, One Opportunity" nature of the moment of truth. This is extremely helpful when we analyze the logical structure of failures as unwarranted repetitions of past lessons. The schooling curriculum indeed consists of important abstractions drawn from lessons of the past. However, it is when we project them in a fashion that is literal or mechanical that we cross path with the possibility of a failure. The paradox of education is that what we must repeat in school and simulation must be extended and not repeated in real life. What is required of us so we do not fall into the fallacy of repetition in face of the moment of truth is the core subject of the discussion of this chapter. In chapter (7), I took a lengthy philosophical detour surveying the intellectual drama of modern logic, and in general, the story of 20th century analytic philosophy. Readers who choose to bypass the somehow demanding narrative of this drama can do so and still keep the argumentative thread of the book. However, even by way of skipping the more technical parts, I would still urge the readers to delve into the discussion in this chapter as I believe this would grant them a deeper understanding of the overall conceptual framework. I explore here the work of two key figures: the logician Kurt Gödel and the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, both were crowned in 2000 by TIME Magazine, as the leading Logician and Philosopher, respectively, of the 20th Century. I review the fascinating logical result of Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem and examine its relevance as setting a theoretical limit to the power of formalization. This amazing logical result - a result that shakes the logical foundations of 20th century thought in as much as the discovery of irrational numbers shook the foundations of the Pythagorean program of the ancient Greeks - bears significantly on the question of action and the blind trust we place in the power of formalization in the form of protocols and rules. It is here that Wittgenstein's philosophy enters in full force. We follow Wittgenstein as he dismantles our conception of rules as if there were "Railroads to Infinite", i.e. as prescribing for us in-advance their proper employments in all possible -/- future eventualities. Instead we propose that the dilemma of action demands of us an extension of rules rather than a mechanical or blind repetition of their literal imperative. In turn, this extension can serve as a new lesson added to the curriculum of school and simulation. The theme of chapter (8), the concluding chapter, is Strategy, Logic, and Ethics. The chapter comes to place the ethical dilemma in the conceptual map we presented in the book. I discuss here the tension between strategy as a process of setting goals and deriving backward as it were the steps that are necessary for achieving these goals, to the inescapable dictation of the ethical imperative. This unavoidable tension is particularly important against the backdrop of contemporary culture that is guided by a vision of personal success and achievement that may threaten our ability to do what is right. Most of all, I am troubled in this chapter, with the role logic may play, first as a liberating force enabling a change that is tuned to the ethical imperative, and second, as a force designed to justify on logical grounds, as it were, the existing power structure. It is in this junction that brave individuals will be called to challenge the governing logic of the zeitgeist - logic that operates now as an oppressive force that serves the vested interest of beneficials of the existing order. When success is favored over doing what is right, as we must admit is the prevailing cultural mood of our times, that the words of Emanuel Kant carry their full weight: "Do the Right thing and leave the Consequences to God". For this we need heroes and heroines that challenge the time by bearing the full weight of responsibility that comes with the doing of what is Right. *** This book was written more than anything from the perspective of the heroes and heroines of action. Sometimes they may be missing the exact words or the full insight into the solid logical complexity that stands between them and the doing of what is right. They feel what is right to do on the battlefield of life, whether in real battle, in political or economic life or whether in the life of creativity and the quest of the intellect. They do need, in analogy, proper logical and intellectual artillery. I hope they will find the logical cannons they require as they travel through the pages of this book. The rest is in their hands at the Moment of Truth. -/- Doron Avital, Tel Aviv 2011 -/- . (shrink)

ZUSAMMENFASSUNGRudolf Otto hat sich – was weithin unbekannt geblieben ist – mehrfach mit »Darwinismus« auseinandergesetzt. Er sah in ihm eine Gefahr für Geist und Frömmigkeit, lehnte ihn aber keineswegs in Bausch und Bogen ab. Er hielt ihn für begrenzt und wenig plausibel; ihm gegenüber sei auf der Eigenständigkeit des Geistigen zu bestehen. Otto wendet sich gegen Naturalismus und Supranaturalismus. Der Religion gehe es um »Teleologie«; ohne »Teleologie« hänge die Deszendenztheorie sozusagen in der Luft. Er wirbt für eine Doppelperspektive, ohne zu (...) berücksichtigen, dass Teleologie als solche kein theologisches Argument sein kann. Angesichts der heute verschärften Fragestellung eines »neuronalen Darwinismus« muss die Verhältnisbestimmung zur Religion innerhalb des Evolutionsdenkens gesucht werden: Religion als Schutz der biologischen und kulturellen Evolution vor sich selbst.SUMMARYAlthough it has generally gone unremarked, Rudolf Otto several times took up the discussion about “Darwinism”. He saw in it a danger for spiritual life and piety while at the same time he by no means rejected it altogether. Regarding it as plausible to a certain, limited extent, he considered it necessary at the same time to insist on the autonomy of the spiritual. Otto takes a position against naturalism and supernaturalism. In religion, he argues, it is a question of “teleology”, and without teleology the theory of descent hangs, so to speak, in the air. He calls for a double perspective, while overlooking that teleology as such cannot be a theological argument. In view of today's increasingly sharply focused “neuronal Darwinism” we need to seek to position religion within evolutionary thought: i.e. religion as the protection of biological and cultural evolution from itself. (shrink)

"Heidegger's way of understanding the originary phenomenon of truth is to "make clear the mode of being of the cognition itself." His starting point is a proposition that is not based on intuition. Someone says with his or her back to the wall: this picture hangs askew. The proposition embodies the claim to have discovered the picture (as a being) in the "how" (the mode) of its being. The proposition displays this "how" of being in language. In the attempt to (...) verify the proposition by sensuous experience, the recognition, according to Heidegger, is directed only to the intended being (the picture) and not to the proposition. It is directed to the being itself (which is to be verified by perception) in its mode of uncoveredness (Entdeckt-heir), i.e., in its showing-itself. Confirmation (Bewährung) means this showing-itself of the being in the same way in which it is intended in the proposition. A true proposition shows the being in its mode of uncoveredness. The phenomenon of "originary truth" does not have the character of correspondence. It is the ground of the concept of truth in the sense of correspondence and propositional truth. By unfolding the meaning of alétheia Heidegger shows us a more originary sense of truth as unconcealment (Unverborgenheit). He wants to show that this concept coincides with the first and originary concept of truth in Greek thinking. In this primary sense only the discovering human Dasein can be "true" while it is Being-discovering (Entdeckend-Sein). On the other hand, beings (Seiendes) that we can find in the world can only "be" in a secondary mode, i.e., as being-discovered (Entdecktsein). They can only make a claim to uncoveredness. Their fundament is the Being-discovering of the human Dasein. The being-true of a discovered being is only possible as being discovered by human Dasein as being-in-the-world. The authentic Being of Dasein, the being-in-the truth, presupposes disclosedness (Erschlossenheit) of the world in states-of-mind (Befindlichkeiten), understanding, and discourse, i.e., the constitution of the being (Seinsverfassung) of human Dasein as thrownness (Geworfenheit) and project (Entwurf).. (shrink)

The paper will focus on Rorty’s project as it emerges in the compelling introductions to his books from Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature onwards. Even disagreeing with his conclusions, some interesting items suggest that Rorty was a legitimate member of the pragmatist family and that he shared with classic pragmatists much more than a reader can see at first glance. First, Rorty understood better than anyone else that the fight against Kant’s rationalism is crucial to pragmatism considered as a (...) whole. He paralleled Kantism with the history of explaining knowledge as a mirroring representation and he wanted to get rid of it. Second, Rorty shared with classic pragmatists what I call the “synthetic drive” of philosophy, namely, the view of philosophy as the habit of action of looking at anything in a way that makes it “hang together with everything else.” Third, the outcome of the synthetic drive is conceiving philosophy as a transformative activity. In all these cases, Rorty took roads at odds with classic pragmatism but he did not betray the general aim and spirit of the American movement of thought. (shrink)

Picasso’s famous Harlequin, once in the Staechelin collection and now in the Kunstmuseum, Basel, was painted in 1918 after the artist’s return from his sojourn in Rome, Naples, and Pompeii. The figure stands alone facing the viewer, holding his black mask in his left hand and showing his “true” face. Behind him a cloth hangs on a rope. As an iconographic theme, the harlequin was very dear to Picasso, who painted him many times in various attitudes and styles. The unique (...) feature in this version is the cloth, which never appears in Picasso’s other Harlequin paintings. The present study proposes that it could be a subtle reference to the iconographic themes of the Veronica and the Acheiropoietes. The former could well have been familiar to Picasso from examples in Spain. The latter he may have encountered in Italy - possibly in medieval copies in Rome’s Lateran and elsewhere in Latium. (shrink)

This paper questions the relevance of distinguishing acts and omissions in moral argument. It responds to an article by McLachlan, published in this issue of the Journal of Medical Ethics .1 I argue that McLachlan fails to establish that there is a moral difference between active and passive euthanasia and that he instead merely asserts that the difference exists. I suggest that McLachlan’s paper relies on a false commitment to general rules that do not apply in every case. Furthermore, I (...) question the lack of a moral framework provided in his argument. Finally, I briefly argue why some omissions may well be considered equivalent to some actions. I conclude that until McLachlan demonstrates that it would be wrong, we should focus on agency and responsibility, rather than seek to derive normative conclusions from contrasts between active and passive causes.In bioethical debates relating to euthanasia and associated end-of-life issues, commentators dispute the relevance of distinctions between so-called active and passive euthanasia. As a general means of assisting analysts in their studies of different practices, a taxonomy that distinguishes active and passive euthanasia can be useful, principally as we can not usefully argue about these matters unless we are clear about what our arguments touch upon.2 Although it seems to have become received wisdom from ethicists of quite conflicting views that moral propriety can not hang merely on whether a situation obtains because of an agent’s action or inaction, there continue to be defences of the act/omission distinction.3 4 In his paper,1 McLachlan has attempted to add support to those who argue that the distinction between active and passive euthanasia is a moral one. Here I respond to McLachlan’s paper, arguing that in it he fails to do more …. (shrink)

Perhaps you have heard the story of the philosopher who fell off the edge of a cliff and was hanging by the limb of a tree. After calling for help for some time he heard a voice from the heavens saying, ‘I am here’. The philosopher explained his dilemma and then asked, ‘Can you help me?’ The voice replied, ‘Do you believe in me?’, to which the philosopher without hesitation, given the circumstances, said, ‘Yes, of course’. The voice came back, (...) ‘Then, let go.’ There was silence and some moments passed before the philosopher somewhat meekly replied, ‘Lord, I know that this is not the best time and place for a discussion but you know how philosophers are, and you do seem to be asking a good bit of me. I know that many of your followers in recent times would agree that I should let go, but I have this feeling that they may be confusing the doctrine of salvation by faith alone with an epistemological doctrine that faith is a commitment that requires no justification. Could we talk about this? And, in the meantime, I hope you will not be offended if I ask, Is there anyone else up there?’. (shrink)

Lucas van Valckenborch’s Winter Landscape hangs in the Kinsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. It was painted four hundred years ago as one of a set of the four seasons. Measured by sales of reproductions, it is one of the most popular paintings in the museum, though it is by no means the most distinguished example of the genre to which it belongs. The picture is a snow scene. In the long series of represented planed that recede from foreground to horizon, fallen (...) snow covers fields and roves. Across the surface of the canvas and scarcely diminishing in scale from bottom to top, touches of white paint represent falling snow. It is not a small painting, and these are not mere feathery indications, but palpable dabs from a loaded brush. To a taste fed on Modernist painting—or, for the pedantic, to a prejudice fuelled by Modernist accounts of painting—it is by virtue of this surprising frankness that the painting achieves more than mere anecdotal charm. It is not the illusion of depth in the picture that holds our sophisticated attention, nor the atmospheric re-creation of a leaden sky, nor do we admit to being engaged by the over-rehearsed animation of the peasants. What gives us pleasurable pause is the strange and distinctive form of skepticism about appearances that is set in play when the allure of imaginative depth meets resistance from the vividness of decorated surface.5 5. Wollheim uses the term ‘twofoldness’ for ‘this strange duality—of seeing the marked surface, and of seeing something in the surface.’ In his account this experience leads to a thematizing of the image, which ‘ushers in representation.’ Translated into his terminology, my suggestion would be that the Winter Landscape can be seen as catering to a Modernistic taste for the thematizing of ‘twofoldness’ itself. Charles Harrison is staff tutor and reader in the history of art at the Open University. He is the author of English Art and Modernism 1900-1939 , and he is now completing a second volume, English Art and Modernism 1940-1985. He is co-author of A Provisional History of Art & Language , and his most recent book—Essays on Art and Language—is due out in 1989. He has been associated with the Art & Language group since 1971 and is editor of the journal Art-Language. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 39.4 (2001) 591-592 [Access article in PDF] J. A. Cover and John O'Leary-Hawthorne. Substance & Individuation in Leibniz. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Pp. x + 307. Cloth, $59.95. This close engagement with Leibniz's modal metaphysics is as rewarding as it is challenging. Crisply written and tightly argued, the book aims to achieve a balance between what the authors describe as their historical (...) objective—to ascertain Leibniz's views on individuation against the backdrop of scholastic philosophy—and their philosophical goal—to investigate the issue of individuation more generally by construing Leibniz as a mediary between scholastic and modern metaphysics (4). The result is an original, if at times contentious, reinterpretation of some of the central tenets of Leibniz's philosophy.Since a full discussion of the work is beyond the scope of this review, we focus on one principal line of argument that supports much of what the authors say about Leibniz. Although in early texts Leibniz occasionally shows sympathy for a relational view of individuation (59-63), his dominant position (developed in the seminal Disputatio metaphysica) is that a substance's principle of individuation is wholly internal to it. For the authors, this becomes a benchmark for the interpretation of Leibniz's later philosophy. On their reading, Leibniz's account of individuation rests on two main theses: "the requirement of separability" (that the existence of any substance is metaphysically independent of that of any other substance except God) and "the requirement that whatever individuates a substance must be wholly internal to it" (87).These theses are heavy with consequences. Concerning the ontological status of relations and relational properties (or extrinsic denominations) the authors convincingly argue that Leibniz embraces a reductionist position, according to which relational properties supervene on a substance's intrinsic accidents, i.e., its perceptions and appetitions. Monadic facts about substances suffice to determine all relational facts, and the latter cannot change without a change in the former (though the converse does not hold). Emphasizing Leibniz's statement that God sees in a complete concept the "foundations" of all that can be predicated of a substance, the authors add to this the more controversial claim that extrinsic denominations are not included in the complete concept of an individual substance (83-4). Thus, the identity of any substance is defined by the totality of its intrinsic denominations, and these in turn determine the relations that hold among substances.The centerpiece of the book addresses the modal dimension of Leibniz's theory of individuation. Here the authors argue that Leibniz adheres to what they call "strong essentialism" rather than "superessentialism." The former, like the latter, holds that a substance could not have a complete concept different than the one it has. However, as a "strong essentialist" Leibniz denies that all of a substance's properties are essential to it. Based on their reading of Leibniz's doctrine of relations, the authors maintain that all and only intrinsic denominations are essential to a substance. From this they infer that Leibniz allows for the transworld identity of substances: the same substance can exist in different possible worlds, worlds distinguished by the fact that they contain different constituent substances. This is possible, according to the authors, because the "laws of harmony" impose no constraint on which substances can coexist in a world. A possible world is defined by the collection of individuals supposed to exist in it, and laws [End Page 591] of harmony are merely relational truths supervening on those substances' intrinsic accidents (109).The authors are candid in admitting that their interpretation cannot be reconciled with all of Leibniz's texts. Their goal instead is to give Leibniz the best he can get, metaphysically speaking: "Our efforts here are to show that the architectonic of Leibniz's own metaphysics is properly captured by strong essentialism, that the important and deepest threads of his thinking better hang together on that construal" (103). Yet one might take issue with their view of what count as Leibniz's "deepest" thoughts. Surely it is a... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:HUME'S IDEAS In the eighteenth century, there was widespread acceptance of a physiological basis for cognition. Some writers even argued for a rather detailed correlation between awareness and physiological changes, suggesting that (a) the former could be adequately explained in terms of the latter or, in some few instances, (b) that the former are the latter. David Hartley may come to mind as fitting one or the other of (...) these alternatives, but Robert Hooke had earlier argued for ideas as brain impressions, as of course did Descartes in his early scientific treatises. There was also one medical doctor in the eighteenth century, Dr. Astruc, who seems (on the basis of what Chambers reports) to have attempted a very specific correlation between specific forms of awareness and specific states and changes in physiology. There were also writers in this century who warned against the dangers of using physical-object vocabulary when talking about the mind and acts of awareness. Berkeley is one such writer,- Thomas Reid at the end of the century traced, to the use of this vocabulary, what he took to be the indirect realism of the way of ideas. Hume is writing in both these traditions: the tradition of using physical language for characterizing mental operations and the tradition of physiological explanations and correlations. The phrase used by Alexander Pope and Hume, 'the anatomy of the mind', seems to be a mixed metaphor, but it is a phrase which I take as an indication that Hume is doing what we would call 'cognitive psychology'. Another phrase used by Hume (this time in the Enquiry), 'mental geography', may capture his enterprise better: 'geography' still sounds physical, but it is modified by 'mental'. Hume is engaged in mental mapping. I want to take a look at the use of the term 'idea' in Hume's writing (mainly in the Treatise) in order to see 2. whether Hume's text enables us to say anything about the nature of his ideas, to discover what role they play in his mental geography. As far as I can determine, there are three possible candidates for the nature of ideas in Hume: images, brain impressions, and cognitive contents. The first of these is, I think, the standard reading of Hume's ideas. Professor Anderson has presented strong argument and evidence to support the second. I will be suggesting that the third is the best candidate, given the full range of the text of the Treatise. Of course, the correct answer 4 may be all three of these. The Treatise opens by dividing all perceptions of the human mind into two kinds. Impressions and ideas differ in the degree of force and liveliness with which they strike upon the mind. Even though the language of 'force' and 'liveliness' may be borrowed from physical talk, it is the mind, not the brain, on which perceptions strike. The examples of impressions are sensations, passions, and emotions. Ideas are said to be the faint images of these impressions in thinking and reasoning. The term 'image' throughout the eighteenth century never receives any clear explication. Its inheritance from optical treatises always hangs about it. We should look to the examples cited by Hume, in order to see whether we can construct a meaning for that term when used in these psychological contexts. Let us look first at his very first example of 'ideas': all the perceptions excited by the present discourse. (Tl) He explicitly excludes from these perceptions those which arise from the sight and touch, as well as the immediate pleasure or uneasiness his discourse may excite in us. The perceptions which are thus excluded are sensations and emotions, the impressions he has just distinguished. The only candidate left for ideas would seem to be what this discourse says, our thoughts about it, my understanding of what it says. The distinction is not one Hume thinks is difficult to follow: Every one of himself will readily perceive the difference betwixt feeling and thinking. (Tl-2) Last week I was sad, today I recall that feeling of sadness/ the difference between being sad and remembering that I was sad. Hume gives a different example: the perceptions formed when... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 39.2 (2001) 307-308 [Access article in PDF] Mayer, Paola. Jena Romanticism and Its Appropriation of Jakob Böhme: Theosophy, Hagiography, Literature. McGill-Queen's Studies in the History of Ideas, no. 25. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1999. Pp. x + 242. Cloth, $65.00. Paolo Mayer sets out to revise the accepted image of the influence of Jakob Böhme, the sixteenth-century mystic and theosophist, on (...) the romantic poets and philosophers who congregated at Jena in the years 1798-1803. She convincingly argues that, except for the philosophers and critics Friedrich Schlegel and F. W. J. Schelling, Böhme's direct influence was negligible, more a matter of the self-proclaimed new religion of romanticism making ideological use of a controversial, in some sense subversive, forerunner in German literary history. In the hands of Ludwig Tieck, for instance, or Novalis, Böhme becomes a symbol of the new religion of Poesie and the hostile reception afforded by the orthodox evangelical pastors of his time becomes an allegory for the hostility that the new, "let it all hang out" aesthetic of romanticism encountered in the more classical and form-loving members of the literary culture. In Mayer's terms, Böhme's reception among the poets was hagiographic; he was the romantics' poster child.Böhme lived from 1575 to 1624. The son of peasants, but by no means unlettered, the "mystic shoemaker of Görlitz" claimed the source of his teachings was direct divine revelation. He claimed to have visions in 1600 and 1610, whose content he translated into his unusually graphic writings, interspersed with Pietist attacks on reason and on outward religious observances. This unusual 'theology' blended themes that F. Schlegel and Schelling, at least, found attractive: (a) the idea of a self-generating or developmental God, (b) an approach to the problem of evil that logically seems to place responsibility on God, and (c) a large systematic role for desire and will, rather than reason, in the origin of the world and in human salvation. Notable also is the physicalism of Böhme's theology, and the assignment of a wrathful nature to God the Father. Böhme's reception in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, determined largely by a first biography written in 1652 by a disciple named von Furstenburg, was generally warm in pietist circles, cool in rationalist quarters, e.g., in that of Lessing and Leibniz.The established story is that all the major romantic writers, poets as well as philosophers, were influenced through a direct study of Böhme's texts. Mayer takes issue with that, especially in the case of the poets Tieck and Novalis and the scientists J. W. Ritter. Though each of them writes glowingly of Böhme as a poet—in fact a persecuted poet, a near-martyr for the religion of Poesie—Mayer finds no sound evidence for a direct transmission, either of ideas or of terminology, from Böhme to these figures. What other literary critics have advanced as evidence is, she argues, a body of ideas and vocabulary common to the Neoplatonic, mystic tradition and to Christian thinking in general. If a stricter standard of proving "reception" than mere similarity of language is adopted, it seems that Tieck, Novalis, and Ritter had a slim acquaintance with Böhme's writings, but nonetheless advanced a hagiographic view of the "folk poet." Others among the Jena circle—Schleiermacher, A. W. Schlegel, Dorothea and Caroline Schlegel—took a skeptical view of this propagandistic ploy. Only the more philosophical minds, F. Schlegel and Schelling, read Böhme in any depth or ventured elaborate appropriations. Mayer argues that both these figures went [End Page 307] through an initial phase of enthusiasm for Böhme, to be later followed by personal reservations about him and, eventually, by public criticism from a philosophical or orthodox theological stance. Mayer obviously relishes the irony, in this case, of an initial idolization of Böhme as a representative of the 'new religion... (shrink)

continent. 1.2 (2011): 136-140. In early 2011, Cow Heavy Books published The Official Catalog of the Library of Potential Literature , a compendium of catalog 'blurbs' for non-existent desired or ideal texts. Along with Erinrose Mager, I edited the project, in a process that was more like curation as it mainly entailed asking a range of contemporary writers, theorists, and text-makers to send us an entry. What resulted was a creative/critical hybrid anthology, a small book in which each page opens (...) to a new iteration of textual desire. These texts explore the material possibilities of the book. Somewhat parallel to the call of N. Katherine Hayles who, in her book Writing Machines , urges literary theorists to take up the practice of Medium Specific Analysis (to account for the way the medium in which it is presented conditions or at least bears on a literary text). I see in the imagined works of The Official Catalog a call for the innovative writers of today to become Medium-Responsive. This would mean thinking through the specific (materially constrained) possibilities offered by the media in which texts are presented, and in thinking of the literary text as a kind of art in the greater context of other arts and the book as a medium situated within the context of many other media. In doing so, the contemporary writer refutes the chorus of critics who lament the death of the book by consistently reinvigorating literary innovation. The following are selections from The Official Catalog of the Library of Potential Literature that show possible paths for (thinking about) new writing that engages with its medium. —Ben Segal, Editor THE CUBE Even the most radical non-linear texts have tended to exploit or subvert only the sequential possibilities of print—from the continuous loop of Joyce's Finnegans Wake to the shuffled cards of Marc Saporta's Composition No. 1 —but The Cube takes such multiplicities to an entirely new level. Set in a grid, the book's words can be read conventionally, across the page, as well as down each column—with either route making complete grammatical sense. But they can also be read as stacked strata and mined like lexical core samples through the layered pages of the book. Each path tells the same story from a different perspective (the narrative, naturally, hinges on the potential outcomes of a throw of cubed dice). By opening up the z-axis to reading in this way, The Cube recognizes the book as a three-dimensional sculptural space. Taking its lead from Armand Schwerner's (If Personal) and Raymond Queneau's Cent mille milliards de poèmes , The Cube reads like a experiment by Christian Bök precision printed by Emily McVarish. Craig Dworkin is the editor, most recently, of The Consequence of Innovation: 21st Century Poetics (Roof Books, 2008), The Sound of Poetry/The Poetry of Sound , with Marjorie Perloff (U. Chicago Press, 2009), and Against Expression: An Anthology of Conceptual Writing , with Kenneth Goldsmith (Northwestern UP, 2010). He teaches at the University of Utah. HE GOES In He Goes , we read notes, letters and e-mails from a scholar father to his novelist daughter. We read of the father's musings on Beckett, on Pinter, on Anne Frank; his description of a woman hanging laundry from a line. We read about his journey toward dying, followed by a brief, third person account of his death, and his obituary. Then a long series of blank pages that demand to be read in real time, non-sentence by non-sentence, blank page by blank page. Finally—and it is here that this peculiar little book begins to soar—the dead father writes to his as-of-yet-still-living daughter. He does not write from death. He does not write from life. The words unprint, unstamp, unkindle. Still, they require no translation. The father "writes" (for lack of a better word) about the serendipitous, the commonplace; he recommends another book. He jokes. He asks his daughter how her stomach is. He says forget about presence in absence, darling; screw words as memorial and the guys in garbage cans and loss as redemption and I can't go on I must go on. He goes, "Love, Fodder." He goes, "incidentally." He goes, "I thought you might like to know." Elizabeth Graver is the author of a story collection, Have You Seen Me? , and three novels: Unravelling ; The Honey Thief ; and Awake . Her work has been anthologized in Best American Short Stories , Best American Essays , and Prize Stories: the O. Henry Awards . She teaches at Boston College. THE PAPER ARCHIVIST A stunning package and a triumph of imagination, The Paper Archivist at times looks to be less a book than an abstract expressionist painting. Softly bound, its contents unfold to a single sheet of uneven thickness and texture—a canvas splattered with colored lines, stickers, broken sentences, and nonsense pictographs. But by following the directions to fold, dip, smell, rub, scratch, and tear the sheet according to the contingencies of the weather and using only the objects at hand, the reader slowly brings the forces hidden in the noise into a glorious sculptural convergence, processing a different story and shape each time. This is the rare book that continues to stir, whirl, and pop on every new reading. Sean Higgins blogs at BOMBlog where he is responsible for the column Volumes and Territories, as well as Ghost Island , a fledgling collaborative intellectual collective. THE SLOW BOOK The Slow Book , written by an anonymous author at the dawn of literacy, on a minor planet (otherwise notable only as the source of that exceptionally hardy, not very tasty grain called “shef” sowed on hostile planets as an early step to colonization), and encoded into a series of punctures on a strip of copper coiled inside a clever device, something between a player piano and an old-fashioned film projector, is being released into print, as was the author’s intention, at a rate of one word per century (local time). Each word is, across the Forty Galaxies, agreed to be uncannily apt for the century in which it appears—even “of,” in a century during which the highest value was attached to fidelity, whether to ideals, worlds, or romantic love; even “the,” which governed two centuries, one extraordinarily materialistic, during which advances in propulsion and navigation accelerated the exchange of exceptional objects between the remotest planets of the Forty, and one in which the central concern, both of philosophers and the common man, was whether, in an age of rapidly proliferating hypothetical worlds, anyone or anything concretely existed at all. Even those words published long before interstellar contact can be seen in retrospect to have transgalactic pertinence. As a result, attempts to abstract the machine from its publishers, Hobson & Hui, in order to “predict the future” for insight or gain by “fast- forwarding” the copper strip have been many and ingenious. While, in centuries of skepticism (“maybe”), or of unrest (“go”) the book has been nearly forgotten, in others it seems to haunt every thought, every deed, despite the fact that the subject of The Slow Book is still unclear. So far only a few sentences exist in print; everyone knows them, can quote them, offer the standard exegeses and assorted heresies; yet certainties are the stuff of adolescence; mature readers are forced to acknowledge that these sentences are probably only a preamble to the main argument. They contain no proper nouns, nor can we identify any definite theme. There is even disagreement about their tone, whether coolly ironic, as some insist, or ardent. The appearance of an unusual grammatical case, sometimes called the future pluperfect continuous, used to describe events that at some future point will have always been true (but are not yet)—hitherto known to appear only in the synthetic dogmas of the Thanatographical Society, and in certain highly circumscribed religious contexts—has suggested to some scholars that the Slow Book was originally intended for ritual use, but the proximity of the usage to a term designating a small hand plow that, as Pott and Mielcke have convincingly shown, would have borne a distinctly obscene double meaning in its culture of origin in the author’s time, argues otherwise. It is likewise unclear whether the situation that seems to be—with teasing incompleteness—sketched out in these few lines is intended as an illustration of general principles, a case study, a dramatic scene, or an extended metaphor. In short, we have no idea what The Slow Book is about. In our own time, we believe that it is almost certainly a work of fiction, but that may be because we live in the century of “if”. In each age, perhaps, we see the book we most need to read. Some have dared to suggest that the metal strip is blank until, with millennial fanfare, it advances into its new position, that no ur-text exists, that the book itself is brought into being—written—by our need. But that is exactly the sort of thing we would believe, in 7645. Shelley Jackson is the author of the story collection The Melancholy of Anatomy , the novel Half Life , and hypertexts including Patchwork Girl . The recipient of a Howard Foundation grant, a Pushcart Prize, and the 2006 James Tiptree Jr Award, she has also written and illustrated several children's books, including The Old Woman and the Wave ; Sophia, the Alchemist's Dog ; and Mimi's Dada Catifesto . Her stories and essays have appeared in Conjunctions , McSweeney's , The Paris Review , and Cabinet Magazine . In 2004 she launched her project SKIN , a story published in tattoos on 2095 volunteers. THE BOOK OF SOUNDS The Book of Sounds is just that: a book of sounds made when letters are construed in new ways to bring forth out of the alphabet new forms of speech. A book meant to be read out loud, The Book of Sounds is not unlike Laurie Anderson's O Superman or Brian Eno's Music for Airports in its attempt to make music out of the most primary and simplest of methods. It breaks language down to its barest bones and makes out of the page a drum that has never before been beaten upon. Peter Markus is the author of a novel, Bob, or Man on Boat (Dzanc Books) as well as two books of short fiction, Good, Brother and The Singing Fish , both of which were published by Calamari Press. A new collection of stories, We Make Mud , is now available from Dzanc Books. PARADISE OF THE BLIND by Celan Solen Although the reclusive Celan Solen published his first and only book in 1963—paying out-of-pocket for a limited edition of the slim collection No One May Have the Same Knowledge Again —he remained in American obscurity for almost three decades. In 1992 a micro-press in Istanbul brought out No One in Turkish. A German translation followed in 1995. Soon it became clear in literary circles Solen was a world-class (if highly unclassifiable) artist—lyrical, dense, enigmatic—who could undo the conventional short story in 397 words by inventing impossible worlds housed in impossible whirls (in “Small Sadnesses,” a single chartreuse tree frog in Borneo unknowingly holds time together by its very presence in the universe, while each letter of its tale refers, not to itself, but to the one preceding it in the alphabet). By his disappearance last year, Solen was considered master by a generation of writers and critics (except, alas, for those gentlemen in the Swedish Academy). Imagine, then, that generation’s delight at the discovery, locked away in the author’s safe-deposit box, of his second and final composition. Had Lynch’s Lost Highway been book instead of film, and had it been penned by Beckett at his least certain, revised by Barthelme at his most formally deranged, and typeset by Derrida at his most semiotically catastrophic, the result might have been something like Paradise of the Blind : interlacing narratives of a man composed of borrowed organs (whose most cheerless and difficult to locate, god, could only have been invented by an empty heart), a nonexistent medieval painting blamed for the ruin of future hope, and the spread of a philosophy that holds earth a mistake constantly recurring in the dream of a fish lying on the floor of the Atlantic (if the fish wakes, our world winks off)—all contained in a text packed with typed-over passages, torn postcards, poems that can be deciphered only when held up to a mirror, pages ornamented with trompe-l'œil paperclips and coffee stains and buzzing houseflies, some busy with illegible runes that dissolve when exposed to light, three that smell like roses or lemons (depending on whether a man or woman is reading), two that stain with the bloody fingerprints of the those who handle them, one that ignites when brushed with breath, thirteen sewn from baby skin, one that moans when touched, and one that screams—yet all without mass, unimaginable, and invisible. Lance Olsen is author of more than 20 books of and about innovative fiction, including, most recently, the novels Calendar of Regrets (2010) and Head in Flames (2009). He teaches experimental narrative theory and practice at the University of Utah. SUPERSTRUCTURE! by Barbara D'Albi As soon as I opened the third drawer of Barbara D'Albi's wooden novel, everything became hopeless. Now in Ithaca, there was no going back. And it wasn't just the intricate series of shelves, hinged doors and locked drawers which D'Albi layered into the book, no, lo, I was constructed anew by the story. Who else but D'Albi to imagine a God who becomes a carpenter and gets killed?! And makes it good! You want stories? D'Albi is a skyscraper, built with planes and levers. Momentarily I wondered where I could shelve this book, and then I thought: no matter; I couldn't put it down. Adam Robinson lives in Baltimore, where he runs Publishing Genius. He is the author of Adam Robison and Other Poems and Say, Poem. 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Translated and with an Introduction by Daniel W. Smith Afterword by Tom Conley Gilles Deleuze had several paintings by Francis Bacon hanging in his Paris apartment, and the painter’s method and style as well as his motifs of seriality, difference, and repetition influenced Deleuze’s work. This first English translation shows us one of the most original and important French philosophers of the twentieth century in intimate confrontation with one of that century’s most original and important painters. In considering Bacon, Deleuze (...) offers implicit and explicit insights into the origins and development of his own philosophical and aesthetic ideas, ideas that represent a turning point in his intellectual trajectory. First published in French in 1981, _Francis Bacon_ has come to be recognized as one of Deleuze’s most significant texts in aesthetics. Anticipating his work on cinema, the baroque, and literary criticism, the book can be read not only as a study of Bacon’s paintings but also as a crucial text within Deleuze’s broader philosophy of art. In it, Deleuze creates a series of philosophical concepts, each of which relates to a particular aspect of Bacon’s paintings but at the same time finds a place in the “general logic of sensation.” Illuminating Bacon’s paintings, the nonrational logic of sensation, and the act of painting itself, this work—presented in lucid and nuanced translation—also points beyond painting toward connections with other arts such as music, cinema, and literature. _Francis Bacon_ is an indispensable entry point into the conceptual proliferation of Deleuze’s philosophy as a whole. Gilles Deleuze was professor of philosophy at the University of Paris, Vincennes–St. Denis. He coauthored _Anti-Oedipus_ and _A Thousand Plateaus_ with Félix Guattari. These works, as well as _Cinema 1, Cinema 2, The Fold, Proust and Signs_, and others, are published in English by Minnesota. Daniel W. Smith teaches in the Department of Philosophy at Purdue University. (shrink)

Reproduced with the kind permission of the author. Currently available in the collection I Looked Alive . © 2010 The Brooklyn Rail/Black Square Editions | ISBN 978-1934029-07-7 Originally published 2003 Four Walls Eight Windows. continent. 1.1 (2011): 43-51. Introduction Ben Segal What interests me is instigated language, language dishabituated from its ordinary doings, language startled by itself. I don't know where that sort of interest locates me, or leaves me, but a lot of the books I see in the stores (...) seem to lack language entirely. Gary Lutz (2006). This issue of continent.'s fiction section features a reprint of “This Is Nice of You” from the first edition of Gary Lutz's collection I Looked Alive . That book was originally released by Four Walls Eight Windows in 2003 and has since been reissued in 2010 by The Brooklyn Rail/Black Square Editions. Calamari Press has also reissued Lutz's Stories in the Worst Way (originally published by Knopf, largely forgotten and dismissed, and then re-issued by the too-short-lived 3rd Bed). “This Is Nice of You” was edited for the re-issue of I Looked Alive and, as the original book is out of print, the earlier version of the story has been hard to come by for some time. This initial version is a bit longer than the new version—Lutz is a master of tightening down his texts to their most linguistically intensified cores—but it is in no way sloppy. It is a great privilege for continent. to be able to make available rare texts of (first) aesthetic and (second) scholarly value. For those readers unfamiliar with Gary Lutz, I believe this story will serve as a worthy introduction. Like Raymond Carver, Diane Williams, Christine Schutt, and so many other important twentieth century and contemporary short story writers, Lutz studied with and was edited by Gordon Lish. This connection is apparent in his attention to sound and the sentence as compositional unit, but Lutz's is a unique voice. “This Is Nice of You” bears Lutz's trademark torqued and turning syntax, his sexed-but-nameless characters, his rendering of the human body and its emissions as utterly discomfiting. Lutz's preoccupations with the mundane raise ordinariness, via startling language and observation, to grandiosity and grotesquery. In the fall of 2008, Lutz delivered a lecture entitled “The Sentence is a Lonely Place” to writing students at Columbia University. The lecture was later printed in The Believer (and is linked below). In it, he spoke about the importance of the sentence as a compositional unit, as even the distinguishing formal characteristic of prose. Specifically, Lutz explained that, from Lish, he had developed a "poetics of the sentence." Accordingly, Lutz constructs his stories at the level of the sentence, paying extreme attention to the material of words- their letters and their sounds- and the way they abut one another and interact on this material level even before they are employed in the service of traditional aims of fiction like meaning or story. Lutz often uses a(n almost constraint-related) technique called consecution. Letters or sounds from one word are carried forward into the following, producing drama and movement in the language itself at a level entirely apart from that of plot. For example, you can see how the 't's in the first sentence of “This Is Nice of You” repeat fast and hard through met and then soften into the 'th's of brothers and they. This close attention to the specific material and characteristic conditions of prose means that Gary Lutz's work always involves both a happening in language and of language. “This Is Nice of You” has a richness and depth that is hidden not in symbolism or obscure reference but on the surface of the page, in the language of every sentence. FURTHER READING Lutz, Gary. “ The Sentence Is a Lonely Place. ” The Believer January, 2009. Web. Short stories and excerpts at Web del Sol . Web. Taylor, Justin. “ An Interview with Gary Lutz .” Bookslut. July, 2006. Web. THIS IS NICE OF YOU [156] [1] I was a man dropping already well through my forties, filthy with myself, when, taking a turn at the toilets one afternoon, I met two brothers-they said they were brothers-who swore they had a sister, a schoolteacher, an officer of instruction at the county college, a whirlwind midlife turmoil of everything already put to ruin, who had gone off from a new marriage in an old car, an upkept and ennobling sedan, but had returned now to the apartment and [157] was living there alone with the little runoff there was from the marriage-some outcurved appliances, apparently, and low-posted furniture promoting its own mystery but becoming figurable in certain concentrations of TV light-and, above all, a telephone (on a pedestal, they insisted), the handpiece of which she gripped in lieu of exercise, or in fury, and I thus let out my little, reliable cry that I was in fact a student of the telephone, that it was a debasing apparatus in the main, with its meager economy of bells and tones, and the intimacy of the mouthpiece that sent your breath, tiny aftervapors of it, back toward your lips, so that regardless of the party accepting the outgoing products of your voice, you were, at most, in a further, rivaling exchange with yourself alone, and this is what must have brought the two of them around, the men who proclaimed brotherhood with the woman, because they offered me her phone number, put it at my disposal on a piece of paper one of them had already committed it to, a tearing from a menu, and the looks the men were now giving me had deletions in them, already, of my exact, beanpole shape and size. So off I went to a pay phone, the nearest canopied one I could find. The woman answered after the second ring and said she needed a lift right that very moment into the little, unlevel city close by. She was idling in the doorway of the building when I pulled up in front, and I helped her into the car, then got back in myself. I had always had a way of not having to look at people that nonetheless brought them to me in full, and so I still am certain of the susceptive and impressible comp-[158]lexion, the shimmer on the mouth, a lipstick of low brilliance, a difficulty around the eyes, the hair short and rayed out exclamation ally, skin bagged up over the elbow bone, conflict even in how her arms stayed at her sides—in sum, a spinal loveliness for me, an off-blonde quantity with shadowed, thumbworn hollows that put me out of as much as I might have ever known of women before. I set the two of us into the narrow traffic, and I remember telling her, by way of explaining the little burden which I had shifted, by now, from the shelf of the dashboard and onto my lap, that when you lived in filth, as I then did, a daily newspaper came to count for a lot, although instead of the thick-supplemented local paper I bought a trimmer one from a backlying town—not, of course, for any affluences of native data it carried, but as an article of house ware: a rough immaculacy in four lank sections, a set of fresh, hygienic surfaces to come between the table, say, and whatever I had going for me at the table, if the table was where I was going forward—because what else so cheap comes so clean and far-spreading? The woman told me that her own trouble with paper was that through a modest hole, no larger than a quarter, that had been drilled a foot or so above the floor (the standard height, she had reasoned, of legitimate electrical outlets), and by means of which her faculty office had at last gained communication with the roomier but unoccupied office next door, more and more often shot a single sheet of paper, plain copier paper she had rolled just barely into a tube, [159] so that after landing on the floor of the neighboring office the paper would preserve little if any of the curl, and there would be nothing written or typed on it, of course, and it was always a blank sheet that had been ageing on her desk for some time and had already been moved around, or advanced, from station to station on the desktop, coming into further creaselets and crimps and other infirmities—paper, in short, still too bare and unfraught to be thrown responsibly and forgettably away, and yet too seasoned and beset with irritations of the surface (a molelike blemish, say, or what looked like a tiny hair, an eyelash, sunk into it, or frecklings, or notational pressings of a fingernail), too wrought, in sum, for the paper to be appointed to any secure curricular purpose. Her office, she claimed, was in fact full of such paper, much-handled and singularized sheets of it by the loose, functionless hundred. I had to get it across to the woman that I myself no longer had an office, or any other place to divide me reliably from everybody else, and that for much of the daylight I thus appeared to be among people because I kept putting myself where people came together into even closer-fitting assortments, the viewing areas and showrooms and rotundas and such: I took in the lean-to look of the women, the tongues coming and going in what the men kept thinking of to say—whole families of low knees for me to bark my shins against during the crowded and involving way out. At home afterward, in the one room where my life was packed down, I would keep my nose stuck in the safehold of the phone [160] book, where the names of people suffered reduction to mere episodes of the alphabet and underwent humbling declensions down every column (Lail, Lain, Laine, Lainerd), and he names of streets, of the towns and townships, got docked in crude, heedless abbreviations (the vowels almost always the first to get poked out), and I would run my eyes over the telephone numbers themselves, each sequence of digits another fallible run of the infinite. I thus corrected my feelings for people and assembled myself emotionally into whatever else I had at hand—the obligating arms of the clothes hangers, usually, or the keen-angled understructure, the guardian legginess, of the ironing board. The woman said that in her case, though, it was more a matter of making slow circuits of the classroom where she had to put across the Emporial Sciences, retail theory and methods, to heat-giving and suggestive young women, some of them world cruelties already. There was the cooing of empty stomachs in the hour just before lunch, and the braying and fizzle of loaded stomachs in the low hours of the afternoon. She would recite her notes in a voice barely loyal to anyone octave, a tiny alluvium of slaver hardening at the corners of her mouth on the days she gave the glassy lozenges a slow, warming suck, and she would take lowering notice of how whatever she said succumbed at once to freak spellings and razzing paraphrase in the big, dividered notebooks; and because in midafternoon light the world looked as thorough, as filled in, as it was ever going to get, a better way to set about ruining her eyes was to review how hair had [161] established itself on the arms of the young women, because almost every arm had brought across itself a welcome and diversifying shadow. On one girl it would be a fine, driftless haze afloat above the white of the arm, never seeming to touch down on the skin itself. (An atmosphere, at most, of chestnut brown.) On another, it was as if copper wire, the narrowmost lengthlets of it, had been stuck into the fleshy batter of the thick, freckled forearms. On a third: a field of it–wheat-colored, thin-spun. On a fourth; a differencing, darkish updrift that shaded off as it approached the inner bend of the elbow, then re-emerged at the base of the upper arm as whiskery fringe. On others it was a brassy or rust-colored frizz, or it was as coarse as cornsilk, or it looked fussed on, as if the arm had been slowly stroked with charcoal. But here the woman broke off, or I may well have made an interruption of my own—I think I must have asked whether she was hungry, and she said if I was, and so on one of the lesser streets I parked the car and led her down into a belowstairs eating house I still remembered. Sandwiches were presently lowered in front of us. I watched her remove the festooned toothpick from hers and then play her fingers over the toasted planes before she took a fond first bite. "This is nice of you," she said. I must have looked at her in the way I then had of getting people to speak so they would not seem to be dwelling any longer on my features, because if on the well-set face the mouth and eyes are said to seem frozen in elegant orbit about the til) of the nose, then mine was a face that behold-[162]ers, regarders, could not help trying to round off with greater success, to goad the particulars of it back into the arcs they had wandered away from—the mouth, for instance, having been pursed and pinched suchwise that it seemed resident more on one side of the face than the other—and there were other signs of original strife to be busied with (slapdash eyebrows unbunched, it appeared, from reserves of hair elsewhere on my person; a showing of adult acne, a shrivelly little relevance of it, confined to the declivity of my nose); and so to be polite, the woman thus sank her gaze into her sandwich, and told me, in a voice lowered accordingly, that, one late-childhood summer, she had devoted herself to collecting postage stamps: it was a tongue-involving sideline to early-arriving puberty, and she liked having to lick the pale, gummed hinges instead of the sticky backs of the stamps themselves before entering everything into the hosting album; and once, during some foul weather between her and a brother (the older, thrown-over one, who had already made a habit of fooling the underside of his arm across the top of hers and calling her "pussified"), she reached for the shoe box in which she had let duplicate stamps accumulate—Spanish ones, mostly, of a fading orange—and sent the box slooshing through the lower air so that the stamps showered onto the brother's bare legs with a full, delicate harm. The woman was now touching up the surface of her iced tea with tiny activities, initiatives, of the longspun spoon. I myself was good at getting my touch onto things, although in a way that seemed to mix up the motive atoms inside [163] them, but I was satisfied that for the moment my sandwich, the unbitten-at half of it, was displayable and fit and local to my plate. The woman went on to say that, as a child, she had been bundled off, many an afternoon, to the slope-ceilinged quarters of a bachelor uncle who, when speaking of anybody not immediately present, could not bring himself to use the person's name but instead would say "an acquaintance of mine in ..." and then mention the name of some lapsed homeland, or little-loved rural orchestra, or backset building about to come down; and it was never a riddle, this device of his (not once could the girl have been expected to identify any of the subjects), and no matter how often and aloud he insisted that particularizing persons any further—bringing even a first name down upon anyone of them—would have been indecent, he claimed, much like doing things to people while they slept, the girl accepted all of the uncle's prim and extravagant evasion for what he surely must have intended it to be: a neat, protective trick to space the world out a little further in her favor, to scatter the population so that wherever her hand might at last come down, it would have to be on herself alone. And here I could sense that the woman wanted from my mouth an account of as much as I myself might have ever managed of attachment, so I told her I had once owned a house (a rising, really, of much-fingered, handwrought architecture that amounted to a little family of rooms above garages: a boxlike building with a rattly thorax of downspouts [164] and drainpipes and an unfolded but full-toned fire escape), and I had had for a time a boarder, a student, a high-colored, loose-packed representative of declining girlhood, hung with necklaces and barrettes, a girl of precise but shifting leanings and inclinations; and the afternoon she had come round to ask after the room, I stood in the entranceway, handshaken and asweat, and from what would later be my memory of the girl, I made off with, first, how every pore of her nose seemed to be sheltering within itself a tiny dark seedlet, a grain of something immediately, enormously valuable. And an almost lipless mouth (just a slit, practically), the teeth inside looking wet, watered-it was my life's chore, at that instant, to keep from sending the back of my thumb blotterlike across the line of them (I was later to learn she drank everything cold and through the narrowest of straws). And her hair: it was tea-colored hair she had, long and reachful, an unstopped downcome of it. Tall for a girl, but she managed to stay out of much of her height and put herself across as somebody backward, or behind. I must have told the girl, as best I could, that I of course had a wife, a full-faced, imperishable partner, though for the moment she was gone otherwhere in the marriage, and here the woman, my present companion, my tablemate, whose feet were now parked, in parallel, on the grade of my upper leg, interrupted to say that her husband, too, had been such a liar, and what could I bring up by way of reply other than that a lie is a truth struck through with other, further truth, or that a lie is the present multiplied by the past or that a lie [165] is an outcry of borrowed hope? The woman gave me an allowed look of disgust, her eyes lowered but still popular with me, and on I went with what had now become the girl of my story. For there had been a great, gainful carpet in the room I put the girl into, a matty expanse of coarse, grabby piles, an engrossing affair that took things into itself and held them tight, misered them, and I of course insisted that the girl not bother herself with its upkeep, that I enjoyed weekly access to a prestigious, upstanding vacuum cleaner; but no sooner was the girl out of the house each morning than I would withdraw from my room, where time was unportionable, and loose myself into the ticktock impertinence of the girl's room and get down on my knees, and, going after the carpet first with my fingers, then with a forceps, and finally by unspooling lengths of clear package-sealing tape and pressing them against the tufts in neat rectangles to catch what I might have missed, I brought vast tracts of the carpet to depletion, recovering not simply the girlinesses, the girleries, one would expect (buttons, straight pins, downed jewelry), but flirtier personalia in the form, say, of a stray confetto brought into the world when a page had been wrung with out caution from a spiral-bound notebook, or some pleated paper shells of the chocolates she required, or one of the bargain antihistamines she took to get her naps going, or a trash-bag tie ragged enough to show the kinked line of the wire within (this I would get wound around my finger), or a cough drop enwrapped like a bonbon (I would undo the [166] wings of the wrapper and have to decide whether to suck the drop all down or begin chewing it midway)—I became the following, the public, that these things, these off-faIlings, had come to have; but mostly there was hair, afloat above the uppermost pushings of the fabric of the carpet an almost continuous haziness of loose hairs of all lengths and sources, and I would have to set them out on a fresh sheet of paper and assort them according to the regions of the body they had taken their departure from, and in no time I had nest-like filiations of broken filaments and smaller involvements of the hairs that made me think of hooks, of barbs, of treble clefs, and each pile required a separate envelope, to be filed in a separate shoe box for every sector of the body until, I hoped, the boxes themselves would no longer be enough and I would have raised something semblable, brought up something equal in volume to the comprehensive girl herself. And her wastebasket! For every bit of rubbish, every dreariment she tossed into the thing, I would, in secret, deposit a reciprocal discard of my own, matching a spotted, confessory tissue of hers with a lurid throwaway after my own heart–the cardboard substructions of a fresh parcel of underwear, maybe, or tearings from pantyhose I now and again pressed against a span of my forearm to work onto it the complications of female shading I otherwise made do, choosily, without. I thus built the two of us up together in her trash! One afternoon-it was another of those lifeful, unsam-[167]pled days on which the world humors us each a little differently to keep us nicely on our last legs—I discovered in the wastebasket an inch-deep textbook of hers, a paperback with a celery-colored cover that had come partly unglued, and this dilapidation I paired off, naturally, with a name-your baby guide to whose pages, during my recurrent turnings of them, in bed or at table, I had contributed dried produces of my person, a chemical splendor entirely mine. This coupling sent a sudden spigoty thrill from me that forced an unbuckling and an unzipping and a cleanup with a handkerchief I then ventured responsively into the wastebasket as well. It was in the bathroom afterward that I found a suds-clouded puddle on the unlevel floor of the tub, a little undrained remainder, rimmed with offscum, of the girl's prolonged early-morning soak, and this was as much as I needed to get on my hands; I pressed them flat against the wet porcelain, then flapped them around in the air, and that was when I noticed it—in the amphitheater of the toilet bowl, an orange-yellow tint, or value, to the waters. When the girl arrived home that evening, I told her, of course, that I had discovered fresh, unforeseen trouble within the tank of thelet (a misalignment of the trip lever, a waywardness of the float ball, a ulation of the lift wires, kinks and defects, really, throughout the entire system) and that in fine it was an apparatus now operable only by means of advanced and strenuous equilibrial manipulations that it would be unseemly, inhospitable, of me to pre-[168]sume to burd to burden her with–so that from here on out, following any leak or evacuation she need merely lower the lid and then, before quitting the room, ring the handbell that had been placed on the would seeeverythinghing else. But the bell never rang, not even once, and from my window the next morning I watched the girl carry from the house a little plastic bag distended balloonishly, much like those bags you will remember having seen in the hands of children bearing homeward their solitary carnival-prize goldfish. In fact, I never ran across the likes of the girl again. The man who came to collect her things-not the father, apparently, but an advocate, an upholder-l found to be dull-eared and lax in his speech, and the better part of his face seemed to have already begun making tiny, rotational departures from whatever it was that the eyes, themselves impressively mobile, were just that moment having to take in. (Was there a lamp in the house that was not that night slopping its wattage over everything?) I guess I was waiting for the man to take a laggard, last-minute interest in me, and by now I was pushing everything out into the paired first person–it was, I said, “Our night shot,” and I began including the two of us in whatever it might be doing out, the expected sprinkles and such—but he was no friendship buff, and he paid no heed to my telling him that the only dress of hers I'd ever twidged myself into even part of the way had been the simplest of them all, a large-buttoned wonder of depthless blue, and then only on the principle that one naturally fits whatever one has into whatever somebody else [169] had first, or how else would the world keep getting any taller with people? The man just went about the removal of the girl's things without having to be reminded too noticeably, I guess, of how every dick hangs by a thread. My listener, though, had by this time brought about some becoming slowings of her arm—it was an arm inclinable to langorous diagonals and magicianly swoops through the air above the tabletop—but it no longer was involving itself with her plate, so I suggested we shove off, I made payment for the food, and on our way to the car, and then in the car as I took to following her pointings, the directional tilts of her head, she said that you naturally kept putting more and more of yourself into another person, at first wondering how much she can take, how much of you is accumulable and how much she can hold, and you're letting things out, disbursing yourself, and you've soon got things set up in her, and room is being made for even more of you, and if you bring this off with enough people, even two or three, what you've got is at first a comfort, because you can pass yourself along and move a little more widely through the world and leave it to these others to man your grievances, your disappointments; and what brought this to mind, the woman said, was a term of financial hardship she had contrived for herself a few years back, an unpaid leave of absence from scrupling letter grades onto quiz papers (propped-up As, and upended Bs made to look, rather, like fannies; all As and Bs, no Cs or anything lower, the difference between an A and a B having less to do with the accuracy of whatever facts might [170] have been impounded in provided for an answer than with anything recallable about the way the enrollee ad conformed her body to the confining perpendiculars of her chair and the navel-level writing surface that projected from it, or the way there might one day have been an unignorable blush on the instep of a once-moseying foot, disburdened of its shoe, that had got itself trapped in the grillwork of that cagelike involvement, intended for books, that was welded to, or otherwise schemed into, the underworks of the chair)—this had been a duration, in short, of controlled difficulty when the misexpenditure of even a twenty-dollar bill had set her thrilling, gloating, over everything she would miss out on, and one afternoon she had made an engagement for a haircut, just a trim, and very early in the session the haircutter, a woman ill-defined in the face but otherwise full of conspicuities of emotion, set down the prevailing scissors and pressed the flat of a lukewarm hand against the woman's cheek, held it there for a good minute or longer, while the other hand eventually found its way into a drawer, a shallow treasury of slender specialty scissors, one pair of which the cutter withdrew and began routing deductively through the woman's hair, the other hand staying put on the cheek, longer and longer, and the woman went home and for afterward the bathtub was now a more likely destination than any of the upright furniture, and it got easier to fill the tub with further clarifying volumes than to clear space on the difficult heights of the sofa, and she was hardly claiming to have become a cleaner [171] person in result—she in fact would often discover, voyaging about her body, a browned, fractionary detail of a larger crepe of toilet tissue that must have got itself stuck in some assy crevice and was impossible to get plucked out of the revolving suds—she was saying only that she spent more and more of her time thus immersed, ill off in water, and the haircutter had surely had a hand in it, the woman was doing some of the cutter's life now, coming into some of its wrong, because you sometimes have to look to somebody else's life to get dimensions set back even part of the way around your own, and it should not have to be any less your own life when it comes from somebody else, and you could surely fudge a society out of anyone available person and get this person doubling for the many, so that in the little run of things perpetuable from one person to the next, every loose moment stood to become a complete, active finality. But by now this was a new day, with only an hour or so off it already, and the place the woman had made me bring us to, the man's place, with a promise that the man was elsewhere—this was on a little offshoot of a street, a stewy efficiency apartment the color had long ago gone out of; and when, once in bed, still clothed, I found among the sheets and blankets a spoiling pair of the man's underpants, one of the leg openings of which was puckered into an avid, sloppy mouth, I held myself accountable for redisposing the fabric until I got a befitting featurelessness back onto it; but all the while, I am sure I had to make myself go over again in my mind that if the body is the porter of as many organs of affec-[172]tion as there might one day turn out to be, then the idea was to let the thing carry you to where you would otherwise never have any reason to arrive, because I listened for the unmelodiof the the thede ofthe woman's zipper, and then the woman made me put myself out of my own clothes, the attritional corduroys and overshirt, and got herself up at last onto the topic not of the man whose apartment it was (because his story was scarcely the story of how the boy who decides he is half a girl no sooner starts to worry about where the other half might than he gets careless with where he rests his eyes, or what he gives even the feeblest of fingerholds to, and anything, even a crumbly triangle of pie offered on a saucer instead of on a pie plate proper, comes in easy, ready, wronging answer), but of her husband, and how, no more than a couple of months into the marriage, he had begun snugging away in his undershorts a little source of chanc, reliable frictions to nudge him onward through the workday—anything company-keeping that could be counted on not to slide out of the elasticky leg holes: a half-dollar packet of chocolate tittles, maybe, that was barely noticeable in the baggy surround of the widecut trousers so popular at the time. For by now the woman had at last brought what is usually called the other mouth to within only inches of my lips, but it is not a mouth, obviously, although I let myself go along with the goodwill behind the comparison, the way I will remain loyal to anything deliberately and faithfully misunderstood, and I fussed my tongue against the vital trifles hung inside of her, as much of the curtailed finery as I could find, [173] and gave the whole insimplicity of it a slow-circling, examinational lick, until I was taking a sudden tepid downwash on the tongue. It was a familiar, latrine in dribble that must have tasted, no doubt, like trouble just starting out.p [1] Editor's Note: Original pagination from first edition print denoted with bracketed page numbers. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhism and Christianity: The Meeting PlaceStephen MorrisUnquestionably one of the most intriguing documents unearthed in that explosive discovery at Nag Hammadi fifty years ago is The Gospel According to Thomas. It is exciting on many levels, and for Christians it constitutes both a boon and a challenge.As a ‘sayings collection,’ Thomas purports to offer us the oral teachings of Jesus. Thus it is a godsend not only for Christians (...) but for anyone in the world interested in what Jesus may have actually said.One might expect, however, that a Christian living today, who is imbued with the more traditional or orthodox understanding of what Christianity is all about, would find Thomas challenging. Jesus is presented differently and—equally important—so is his message. But it is not the case that this message is absent in the canonical gospels, only obscured. What Thomas essentially holds is present in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John; but what is highlighted in Thomas is overshadowed in the others by narrative material. Still, if the canonical gospels are bearers of ‘good news,’ then what Thomas heralds is even ‘better news.’What is more is that the Gospel of Thomas must strike Buddhists as remarkable. Christianity is usually presented as centering on Christ (“The whole of Christianity hangs on these words: Christ is God”), 1 and not only discussion but interfaith dialogue almost invariably, from the Christian side, revolve around doctrine. But the focus in Thomas is not at all incompatible with Buddhism, at least as Zen portrays it, as will be shown. Indeed, paradoxically, Thomas—though an ancient Christian text—could conceivably make more sense to modern Zen philosophers than to contemporary Christian theologians.There is something else. John Cobb, engaging in dialogue with the Zen philosopher Masao Abe, has written: “Abe rightly points out that in Christianity there has been a problem about human reason, because it can come into conflict with divine revelation. He notes that Buddhism is free of this problem. Indeed, one of the attractions of Buddhism to Christians and to Westerners generally is that Buddhists seem quite free from the need to defend doubtful doctrines, because of their divinely grounded authority. One of the things Christians have most to gain through dialogue with Buddhists is a similar freedom.” 2 [End Page 19]Cobb’s point here is not insignificant. ‘Doubtful doctrines’ might not at all serve as the healthiest foundation for a spiritual life; and relying on them, taking refuge in them, can easily tend to ensnare rather than liberate the spirit. Many psychologists have pointed this out. For one thing, psychologists decry complacency, which some doctrines can help to foster. Thus, although psychology understands full well the need to develop our psycho-spiritual health on the one hand, it is often critical of religion and how it is practiced on the other.In this paper I intend to examine the Gospel of Thomas in the light of Zen Buddhism. There are three general but crucial areas concerning which Zen philosophers are unmistakably clear and absolutely adamant; and although in these areas Buddhism poses a stark contrast to orthodox Christianity, this is not the case when it comes to Thomas. Instead, Thomas appears to line up right beside Zen on these matters. What is more is that, standing together, Zen and Thomas would not only escape the criticism of modern psychology; they would join in leveling some of the same objections.Thus it seems to me that, while Buddhists would naturally find Thomas a most welcome and interesting document, Christians, could they only bracket the ancient doctrines with which they have been inoculated, would also discover a rich and refreshing version of the Christian message. Indeed, although jolting at first, it might be that Thomas offers a more pertinent, more realistic, and more reasonable presentation than do the canonical gospels themselves.Placing ThomasBefore proceeding it might be worthwhile, in the light of recent scholarship, to generally locate Thomas within the Christian framework. Clearly not orthodox, Thomas was at first assumed to be Gnostic; but that initial appraisal has turned out to be too quick and too casual, and now it is no longer widely held at all... (shrink)

At several places in this paper we have made use of a well-known rhetorical device: an argument was made; a character —dubbed “fictional reader” — was then evoked who voiced some objections against that particular argument; and finally, we answered those objections, thus bringing to a close, at least temporarily, our argument. The use of this device raises a question: “How is the presence of the ‘fictional reader” to be understood?” Is it a “mere” rhetorical tool, or does this character (...) designate some particular target? For instance, depending on the context, it could be seen as aimed at different straw men: traditionally minded sociologists, Whiggish historians, well-intentioned philosophers of science. Actually, none of these characters is behind the “fictional reader”. Rather, it refers, potentially, to any of the scientific actors (Milstein, Schwaber, Koprowski, Cohn, and so on) who inhabit our set of narratives. In other words, the “fictional reader” is an icon for the “native” reader/writer who simultaneously produces and questions the products of that particular literary activity known as scientific texts, by explicitly and implicitly raising the issue of the distinction between fact and technique.By following actors in their disputes about the novelty of K & M's contribution, it became apparent that it is not exactly clear which of the different elements of “hybridoma technology” should be regarded as “novel.” Was it the use of the P3 myeloma line? Was it the theoretical framework related to the notion of allelic exclusion? Was it ...? In each and every case, arguments can be made for or against the existence of a certain continuity or discontinuity with previous work. And in each case, the determination of novelty, as translated through the continuity/discontinuity issue, appeared to be hanging on the previous attribution of an epistemological status to the object that had allegedly been discovered: was it a fact or a technique?If one focuses on the relatively narrow network of immunogenetics, it could be argued that within that particular evidential context a series of “facts” had been established which, when transferred to other fields, such as the virological research being pursued in Koprowski's institute, were translated into a technique. However, as we have seen, even from an immunogenetic point of view the production of monoclonal antibodies can be viewed as being simultaneously a fact and a technique to establish that fact. Not only, as he himself noted,139 was Milstein not seeking to develop a technique for the production of monoclonal antibodies when the original experiments were carried out, but the significance later imputed to those experiments was not immediately attributed to them. The paper was seen as one among other papers that used cell fusion techniques to dissect the genetic control of antibody diversity. Distinctions that now appear crucial (e.g.: were the fusion partners two myelomas or a myeloma and a spleen cell?) were easily overlooked. At some point, around 1977, the production of monoclonal antibodies became a goal in itself, no longer linked to the initial immunogenetic network. The transformation of [MILSTEIN 75] into the foundational event of “hybridoma technology” was thus achieved. This transformation did not flow naturally from the original experiments. Rather, it involved specific investments which mobilized the activity of a large number of other scientific and industrial actors.140A tentative generalization can be deduced from our case study. The dichotomy between fact and technique that underlines much of contemporary science studies seem to be fundamentally misconceived, insofar as the determination of what counts as a fact and what counts as a technique is not possible on a priori grounds. Historians and sociologists of science are confronted with a field of heterogeneous interventions where particular pieces of work are constituted as discrete entities and simultaneously attributed a technical or a factual identity. “Novelty” and “innovation” are precisely the result of such polymorphic attributional processes. (shrink)

“Risk” is all about living a faith filled life. Within the pages of this work you will discover the year-by-year history of the ups and downs of the happenings regarding Foursquare Church. There are no sure things in this crazy epic journey called life. The only constant we can hang our hope upon is the name of Jesus. Christ has called us to live beyond what we can see and lean only to what He has said. In the parable (...) of the talents Jesus was very clear about how He felt regarding those who would not risk. In Matthew 25:28-30 He states, “‘Take the thousand and give it to the one who risked the most and get rid of this “play-it-safe-mentality” who won’t go out on a limb. Jesus rewards those who Risk. Foursquare Church and its history is one successive detail regarding progressive risking on God and his faithfulness to reward said risk. I invite you to read and risk on God. You will find great joy in discovering the rewards of a life that is lived by faith. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 39.3 (2001) 459-460 [Access article in PDF] Reinhard Brandt. Philosophie in Bildern: Von Giorgione bis Magritte. Hamburg: Dumont, 2000. Pp. 470. Paper, NP. Reinhard Brandt, professor for Philosophiegeschichte, offers in his latest book a multi-faceted history of philosophy and art through his detailed interpretations of major paintings in the European tradition, beginning with Giorgione's "The Three Philosophers" and a young Raphael's "The Dream (...) of the Knight,"and stretching to René Magritte's "La condition humaine." In these paintings, as Brandt claims, different philosophical positions are expounded, which he then, in the role of interpreter, attempts to elucidate.In the introduction Brandt explains how this paradoxical phenomenon of philosophizing paintings can even exist. That one can find not only philosophical themes but well-wrought positions in such paintings, and, most importantly, not read these positions into them, is shown in more than thirty short essays, spanning from ancient Greek philosophy and literature, through the Renaissance and on to present-day Italian, French, Spanish, and German literature/philosophy. In almost every interpretation, Brandt critically reviews previous research, exposing and correcting some deeply rooted mistakes and constantly providing new impulses; in light of his philosophical-philological method, some major paintings in the European tradition are interpreted anew.His detailed analysis of Raphael's "The School of Athens" forces a persuasive revision of previous interpretations; the sitting figure in the foreground is not, as previously assumed, Heraclitus, but Democritus. On account of this carefully proven and convincing allotment, an unnoticed field of vision is discovered between the materialist and solid-state physicist Democritus, who with the gestus melancholicus is concentrating on a problem, and Plato, standing perpendicularly over him. Could this problem be the stone cube, on which the philosopher is leaning? From this conjecture we now have a bridge leading to Albrecht Dürer's engraving "Melancholia."Diego Velazquez's "Las Meninas" is interpreted anew on account of the surprising solution to the painting's puzzling construction. Brandt shows that the whole picture is viewed from the vantage point of the princess inside the painting, not of an observer outside it. The princess stands before a mirror and Velazquez paints everything exactly as the princess sees it. So the painting, which hangs in the Prado Museum, is the mirror image of a complete reflection of the Self; perhaps it is no coincidence that the painting belongs to the same historical period as Descartes' famous cogito ergo sum dictum. Or Jacques Louis David's "The Death of Socrates": although the painting has been correctly referred back to Plato's Phaidon, until now a Platonic ground position was falsely attributed to the painting. Brandt shows that the painting was conceived with Stoic philosophical positions in mind: death is portrayed as immanently present, coupled with the un-Socratic maxim mortem spernere. The virtuous stance that Socrates still shows on the threshold of death is decisive. And as an added bonus he includes his influential, previously published essay on the title-page emblem of Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan.Perhaps the greatest strength of this book is Brandt's technical know-how. He combines an encyclopedic knowledge of the European intellectual tradition with a [End Page 459] fluid, easy-to-read style, which not only instructs the reader, but entertains as well. At no time does this book approach mere philosophical pedantry; his treatment of some of the lesser known, albeit important, figures in the history of philosophy, e.g., Justus Lipsius and Diogenes of Sinope, is not a lesson in obscurity. The reader feels himself taken on a journey through a history of Western philosophy, always being provided with thought-provoking material. His style, however, is in no way used to mask the often shaky scholarship that has a tendency to go hand-in-hand with such interdisciplinary studies. In every essay Brandt exhausts all the sources; he works with razor-sharp exactness, proceeding with the meticulousness of an outstanding and seasoned scholar.A problem which always accompanies such books is the question: Cui bono? Are either the philosophers... (shrink)

“Risk” is all about living a faith filled life. Within the pages of this work you will discover the year-by-year history of the ups and downs of the happenings regarding Foursquare Church. There are no sure things in this crazy epic journey called life. The only constant we can hang our hope upon is the name of Jesus. Christ has called us to live beyond what we can see and lean only to what He has said. In the parable (...) of the talents Jesus was very clear about how He felt regarding those who would not risk. In Matthew 25:28-30 He states, “‘Take the thousand and give it to the one who risked the most and get rid of this “play-it-safe-mentality” who won’t go out on a limb. Jesus rewards those who Risk. Foursquare Church and its history is one successive detail regarding progressive risking on God and his faithfulness to reward said risk. I invite you to read and risk on God. You will find great joy in discovering the rewards of a life that is lived by faith. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:News and ViewsMark Gonnerman Click for larger view View full resolutionWhen I think of Roger Corless, I think of the bristlecone pine trees in the White Mountains of east-central California, about an hour's drive from Bishop up White Mountain Road. These trees (Pinus longaeva) are the world's oldest living beings. The senior member of the stand in Patriarch Grove, named Methuselah, is more than 4,700 years old.It is not (...) because Roger lived an especially long life—he was granted only sixty-nine-and-a-half years of calendar time—that he and these trees fuse in my mind. While Roger was an old soul from an older world, this association arises from Roger's adherence to the kind of "become who you are" eccentricity celebrated by Henry David Thoreau and other sages who remind each of us to "step to the music" of "a different drummer."When visiting the bristlecones, one is impressed by the various odd poses struck by each tree. Of course no two are alike; each holds a unique gnarly stance that says, "You are among a community of nonconformists." These trees remind us that each being is a unique expression of Nature and ought to be honored as such.Thoreau does not use the word "eccentric" in Walden, but writes of extravagance instead:I fear chiefly lest my expression not be extra- vagant enough, may not wander far enough beyond the narrow limits of my daily experience, so as to be adequate to the truth of which I have been convinced. Extra vagance! [End Page 155] it depends on how you are yarded.... I desire to speak somewhat without bounds; like a man in a waking moment, to men in their waking moments.A lover of words, as was Roger, Thoreau splits extravagance in two to highlight its root meaning: "to wander" (vagari) "outside" (extra). To learn the truth of matters requires the courage to follow one's own path, even when—especially when—it takes one beyond the pale. Only then might wanderers become convinced of those truths they know, for they have been encountered firsthand and tested, experimentally, in the realm of personal experience.When one sets about the challenging work of claiming a natural right to eccentricity, one discovers self-authenticating feedback loops that encourage further steps along an always unfolding, yet untrammeled path. It takes courage to stay in motion, for the way is often rough. People get lost—and found. One's own authentic way leads to wakefulness. This in turn enables recognition and enjoyment of other liberated beings and compassion for those who have yet to hear chanticleer crow (to stay with Thoreau) or the lion's roar (as Buddhists might say).As Mas Kodani, a Jodoshinshu minister in South-Central Los Angeles has observed, "One does not stand still looking for a path. One walks; and as one walks a path comes into being." This walk requires a balance of both confident perseverance and an ability to respond to ever-changing conditions. Lives of both the bristlecones and Roger demonstrate perseverance in spite of hostile habitats: the pines, rooted in sandstone and dolomite, hang on in a cold and dry climate at 11,200 feet; Roger made his way with difficulty in spite of challenges he faced as a gay, Buddhist-and-Christian intellectual in Durham County, North Carolina. When, after thirty years, Roger became an emeritus professor at Duke and relocated to the San Francisco Bay Area, he found himself in a much more hospitable setting.It may seem strange to draw out this comparison of Roger and those ancient White Mountain pines, but when I first met those trees in the summer of 1998, they set a standard for authenticity that came to mind whenever Roger and I interacted. His extravagant accomplishments as a teacher, scholar, and person who lived a life of genuine service to others were attained through the real work of daily spiritual practice, critical reflection, and adherence to the truths—always plural for Roger—of which he had been convinced. I'll always be grateful for his inspiring example of a human life well lived. It... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Diacritics 30.3 (2000) 90-104 [Access article in PDF] After Death Jonathan Strauss According to Philippe Ariès, the nineteenth century was a turning point in the history of death. On the one hand there emerged a new sense of the irreplaceability of individual people, of the finality of death and the immeasurable preciousness of a single life. On the other hand death, that which followed one's demise, became conceptually more (...) austere. For the first time since antiquity, perhaps ever, the belief that death is pure negativity or nothingness asserted itself with enough success to become a generally accepted cultural attitude. 1 This image of sheer nonexistence, this death stripped down to its ontological minimum, is the most extreme form of mortality that has arisen in the history of the West, the hardest perhaps to take, the most naked. In ways that could not have occurred before, these two developments in the history of death have worked with and against each other to create a new understanding of subjectivity, a set of theorizations about human individuality that, for all their diversity of detail, are bound together by a certain historical determinacy. Hegel's views on the relation between mortality and subjectivity, for instance, like Heidegger's or Blanchot's, have no precedent, but they do have endless repercussions. Whatever their causes, the newness and the effectiveness of these theories indicate that during the nineteenth century a unique cultural formation arose in relation to mortality. The moment still has not passed, since the basic elements of the new death continue to operate on contemporary imaginations and theorizations. What follows is an attempt to draw the portrait of the death that emerged for the first time in the nineteenth century: to critically and analytically examine formulations of the relation between death and identity in order to determine the value of absolute mortality as an individualizing principle. Often these formulations are most clearly articulated by post-nineteenth-century thinkers, but they are the products, and indeed the expressions, of that historical transformation that occurred sometime after the Revolution. When we read these texts and arguments, we are asking not merely whether they are valid as arguments, but about the value of the general attitude they reflect—the value not only of a specific kind of death, but of a kind of subjectivity that is unique to the last two hundred years. And since that subjectivity is probably the most significant product of those centuries, the most pervasive and the most intimately affecting, we are also, intentionally or not, asking about the value of a whole period.To read this relation between mortality and subjectivity, we must come to some understanding about the terms at issue, especially what death is or is not when considered in its most extreme form as simple nothingness. It may seem odd that this is an issue at all, but nonexistence has proven a difficult concept to integrate into theorizations [End Page 90] of human life. The first question to raise in this context is whether death can be considered a state, a divisive proposition on which much hangs. In the introduction to a recent collection of essays on metaphysics and death, John Martin Fischer baldly asserted that "being dead is a condition or a state" [4]. The philosopher Paul Edwards, however, has pointed to some of the "absurdities," as he puts it, of considering death as an ontological condition. To imagine death as a state is, he argues, to attribute to it some sort of being, but death, understood as the permanent loss of consciousness and experience, has no being and is simply absence. To imagine otherwise leads to attempts (made by such existentialist philosophers as Ferrater Mora [175-203] and Tillich) to understand death "from the inside"—that is, to imagine what it would be like to experience the absence of experience. 2 Edwards's approach does not deny the possibility or value of investigations into the psychological significance of that absolute privation (that is, the meaning of death for the living), but it does preclude any understanding of death as such. This is, undoubtedly, part of the... (shrink)

As one of the bare handful of scholars working on Schelling, I should heartily like to accept Professor Harris's argument, for all these black cows hang around one's neck more heavily than did the albatross on the ancient mariner's. I find myself obliged, however, to closely test his argument. I regret that, viewed in the context of the whole of the Phenomenology's Preface, Harris's argument is not fully convincing. I shall argue that, since the Preface's plain intent is to (...) contrast the vitalism of a method of thought that is spirit's coming into its own with all styles of fixated propositional thinking, the “formalism” Hegel attacks is a loose aggregate of the philosophical styles of Fichte, Schelling, Reinhold and Bardili. Hegel is content to leave the label loose and unspecified and not to name names. It is not strictly fair to let the scope of the term resonate upon Schelling's “first scientific grasp of the idea”, at least not for an author who knew Schelling's work so well. But as Harris points out, it is not fair to Hegel for his public to read him with the sole, simplistic question of what positions he supports and what positions he rejects. (shrink)

Is it possible to argue that one’s memory is reliable without using one’s memory? I argue that it is not. Since it is not, it is impossible to defend the reliability of one’s memory without employing reasoning that is epistemically circular. Hence, if epistemic circularity is vicious, it is impossible to succeed in producing a cogent argument for the reliability of one’s memory. The same applies to any other one of one’s cognitive faculties. I further argue that, if epistemic circularity (...) is vicious, it is impossible to produce a cogent argument for the reliability of anything. For example, if epistemic circularity were vicious, a cogent argument for the reliability of one’s car would not be possible. The seeming viciousness of epistemic circularity even threatens, I propose, the possibility of justification and knowledge. Much, therefore, hangs one the question of whether epistemic circularity is indeed bad. I argue that epistemic circularity, or bootstrapping, need not be bad. When we use a crystal ball—a source perspicuously guilty of unreliability—to confirm its own reliability, bootstrapping is foolish. When we attribute reliability to a witness solely because the witness says he is reliable, bootstrapping is dogmatic. Foolish and dogmatic bootstrapping are bad. However, when a witness provides a rich body of testimony, using that testimony to gauge the witness’s reliability need not be a vicious form of circularity. When done critically, I argue, such reasoning exemplifies a form of bootstrapping that is benign. (shrink)

Where to begin? I’ll take three books from my shelves. First, now nearly forty years old, a little book of television lectures by the great physicist Richard Feynman, The Character of Physical Law. He talks about the laws of motion, the inverse square law of gravitation, conservation laws, symmetry principles and the various ways these all hang together. Feynman obviously takes it that it is a prime aim of science to discover such laws. But what are laws? He writes (...) – and this is about his one and only shot at a characterization at the level of abstraction that we might think of as philosophical –. (shrink)

S. Matthew Liao argues here that children have a right to be loved. To do so he investigates questions such as whether children are rightholders; what grounds a child's right to beloved; whether love is an appropriate object of a right; and other philosophical and practical issues. His proposal is that all human beings have rights to the fundamental conditions for pursuing a good life; therefore, as human beings, children have human rights to the fundamental conditions for pursuing a good (...) life. Since being loved is one of those fundamental conditions, children thus have a right to be loved. Liao shows that this claim need not be merely empty rhetoric, and that the arguments for this right can hang together as a coherent whole. This is the first book to make a sustained philosophical case for the right of children to be loved. It makes a unique contribution to the fast-growing literature on family ethics, in particular, on children's rights and parental rights and responsibilities, and to the emerging field of the philosophy of human rights. (shrink)