Why is it that some business managers appear to behave differently in private and at work? How, if at all, are the decisions managers make affected by the nature of their organisations? What impact do organisational values have on the moral autonomy of managers? A research project into these questions is now under way in three disparate Australian business firms and this paper sets out the premise underlying it. For purposes of research the general premise is that the moral character (...) of a business influences the moral judgements and actions of its members. More specifically, it is suggested that the economic paradigm renders a business organisation amoral rather than moral or immoral, and as a result moral responsibility comes to be assigned to individual members. However, the socio-cultural nature of such firms interferes with the ability of managers to exercise moral autonomy. Governed as it is by the market or laws of economics, the amoral organisation is likely to transform its members into individuals without moral standards. (shrink)

Quality of work life affects the quality of life. By applying amoral paradigms in decision making managers of business enterprises can cause a poor quality work life and reduce the quality of life. The explanation and prediction of ethical/unethical business behaviour should not always be attributed to individual managers, as it may result from strong culture and decision making systems. It is argued that the causes and the solutions to ethical dilemmas can often be found in a theory based on (...) integration of models of moral reasoning, decision schema, value congruence and corporate decision structures. The impact of exclusion of moral principles from the decision making process is illustrated by way of a case study. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Drieu, Céline: French Fascism, Scapegoating, and the Price of Revelation Richard J. Golsan Texas A &M University Although the Girardian concept of the scapegoat and its attendant phenomena have a number of obvious implications for the study of fascism, to date the connection has been addressed only in broadly theoretical terms. In Des Choses cachées and in subsequent works, René Girard has alluded to modern political scapegoating such (...) as the Nazi persecution of the Jews as examples of mass victimizations where the enormous number of victims represents an effort to compensate for the failure of the scapegoating process itself in the wake of Christian revelation.1 While the victims are initially vilified, they are not sacralized after their sacrifice, and order is maintained only so long as a steady stream of victims is forthcoming. As Andrew McKenna explains in Violence and Difference, "with the passing of the sacred order, of the sacred tout court, sacrifice becomes less and less capable of uniting the community and therefore demands more and more victims... the decline of symbolic violence brings an increase of real victims; their quantity mounts in inverse proportion to the ritual efficacy of sacrifice, and victimage appears more and more gratuitous" (159-60). Moreover, McKenna continues, victimage of this sort becomes increasingly untraceable, rootless, and it is this aspect of official Nazi anti-Semitism, for example, which allowed many Nazis in their postwar trials to proclaim their innocence for their roles in the Final Solution by insisting that they were "only following orders" (162-3). 1 See Things Hidden 128-9. For a more general discussion of the persecution of ethnic minorities as a source of social cohesiveness, see the essays "Violence and Representation" and "Generative Scapegoating." Drieu, Céline: French Fascism173 These observations certainly help to illuminate the role of scapegoating in Nazi racial politics and in the Holocaust in particular. They are less helpful, however, in understanding other paradigms of fascism in which antiSemitism did not play as central a role or in cases in which fascist ideology was not synonymous with government policy or political hegemony. The role of scapegoating in Italian Fascism, for example, is more difficult to ascertain than it is in Nazism because anti-Semitism was less crucial as a means of establishing social cohesiveness, at least until Nazi influence became predominant during World War II (Soucy xviii). In France, the presence of a number of fascist movements from the twenties through the end of the Occupation, and the absence of an autonomous fascist state during the same period, make the task of assessing the role of scapegoating even more difficult. This is especially true in light of the fact that a number of French fascist movements were not anti-Semitic, at least until it became expedient to be so to curry favor with the Nazis. In French Fascism: The First Wave, Robert Soucy notes that during the interwar years, fascist groups including "the Jeunesse Patriotes, the Croix de Feu and the Faisceau... welcomed Jews into their ranks" (xviii). The lack of a consistent attitude towards the Jews is, in fact, just one of several points of divergence among French fascists and fascist groups prior to World War Two. As a result, historians and political theorists who have studied French fascism have strongly disagreed as to its origins as well as its basic ideology. In Neither Right nor Left: Fascist Ideology in France, Zeev Sternhell argues that "the history of fascism can be described as a continuous attempt to revise marxism and create a national form of socialism" (20). Soucy, on the other hand, insists that on many of the most important social and political issues, including "taxation, government spending, nationalization, property rights, class conflict, religion, education, and foreign policy, French Fascism was overwhelmingly conservative" (xi). Other historians, especially among the French themselves, have gone so far as to insist that there is no such thing as French fascism, that such a creature, if it existed at all, was merely an import, a watered-down version of Nazism or Italian Fascism.2 If no consensus as to the nature or even the existence of French fascism can be reached by analyzing the programs... (shrink)

Contemporary literature on consciousness, with some exceptions, rarely considers the olfactory system. In this article the characteristics of olfactory consciousness, viewed from the standpoint of the phenomenal /access distinction, are examined relative to the major senses. The review details several qualitative differences in both olfactory P consciousness and A consciousness . The basis for these differences is argued to arise from the functions that the olfactory system performs and from the unique neural architecture needed to instantiate them. These data suggest, (...) at a minimum, that P and A consciousness are uniquely configured in olfaction and an argument can be made that the P and A distinction may not hold for this sensory system. (shrink)

The expression ‘cultural pluralism’ was popularized by Horace Kallen, a student of William James. I explore the meaning of pluralism in the context of the American pragmatic tradition with emphasis on the meaning of pluralism for William James. Kallen sought to characterize cultural pluralism in contrast with the idea of America as a ‘melting-pot’. I also examine the contributions of Randolph Bourne and the African-American philosopher Alain Locke to the discussion of cultural pluralism. I conclude by indicating that the idea (...) of a democratic society that respects and is enriched by differences is highly relevant to contemporary discussions of cultural pluralism in a global context. (shrink)

This paper focuses on two key issues in Nicholas Wolterstorff's Justice: Rights and Wrongs . It argues that Wolterstorff's theistic grounding of inherent rights is not successful. It also argues that Wolterstorff does not provide adequate criteria for determining what exactly these natural inherent rights are or criteria that can help us to evaluate competing and contradictory claims about these rights. However, most of Wolterstorff's book is not concerned with the theistic grounding of inherent rights. Instead, it is devoted to (...) a detailed and rigorous articulation of the meaning and defense of a theory of justice as consisting of inherent rights and with showing why this theory of justice is superior to the alternative right order theories that Wolterstorff criticizes. The paper concludes that these accomplishments are not diminished even if Wolterstorff has failed to provide us with a satisfactory theistic grounding of his theory. (shrink)

Martin Guggenheim, What's Wrong with Children's Rights Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005, pp. 320.

The present article has three sections. The first one discusses the relationship of the theological theory of transubstantiation to that of transignification and transfinalization , ideas that were introduced just before the time of Vatican II by northern European theologians. The second section develops a holistic view of the nature of matter. Our present scientific knowledge seems to require that we abandon the Aristotelian theory of hylomorphism in favor of a theory in which real beings of a certain level ‘sublate’ (...) real but subordinate beings of lower levels. For example, a human being is a substance that includes within itself many smaller substances. When he was in the flesh, the physical body of Christ included within itself a vast number of interconnected atoms and molecules. The third section discusses ideas of Teilhard de Chardin about the relationship of Christ to matter. (shrink)

There has been no attempt in this introduction to put forward a particular method for dealing with these challenges nor to assess the full contribution of the articles in this issue. This outline and discussion has been intended merely to stimulate interdisciplinary debate and provide some of the background to assist in making this possible. A full account would at least have involved a broader review of the background of McLoughlin and Aicholzer and Schienstock in developments within the industrial sociology (...) or industrial relations discipline. Their contributions do, however, provide a good introduction to the traditions within which they are working and so it is not necessary to provide more information here. It is nevertheless important to note in McLoughlin's case that his analysis of “technological systems” and “system architectures” is based on earlier work by McLoughlin and his colleagues, cited in the article, on the complex nature of “engineering systems” and the importance of taking this complexity into account in any discussion of “the impact” of “technology” on organisation. If the result of this issue is the stimulation of system designers to read further in such areas or the encouragement of industrial sociologists to become more involved in research directed towards human-oriented system design then it will have served its purpose. (shrink)

I first started reading Derrida during the 1970s. Like many others, I was initially perplexed, confused, and sometimes downright infuriated. I could not make sense of what he was “up to” or why there was so much fuss about him. Frankly, I wondered if it was worth the effort. Much of his writing seemed like overindulgent word play. But I stuck with it. A primary reason was my wife, Carol. She is a professor of English and Comparative Literature at Bryn (...) Mawr College and is a great admirer of Derrida. Because of my respect for Carol’s intelligence and insight, I was determined to discover for myself what she found so intriguing and exciting. The breakthrough came when I read his classic essay, “Metaphysics and Violence,” one of the most sensitive, perceptive, and illuminating discussions of Emmanuel Levinas. Many thinkers “discovered” Levinas because of Derrida’s essay. There is a special quality about this eloquent essay that riveted my attention. It is an act of profound friendship and extremely moving. Derrida not only beautifully and delicately explores the intricacies of Levinas’ intellectual development, but also probes the crevices in Levinas’ thought. I still find this essay to be an intensely exquisite tribute to Levinas—a thinker that deeply influenced Derrida’s own ethical thinking. When I first read “Metaphysics and Violence,” I felt that its passion and seriousness did not “fit” with the popular image of Derrida as an irresponsible and irritatingly playful nihilist. So I started to read him again. I began to notice something that few commentators discussed: the way in which ethical-political themes are woven into the texture of virtually all his writings. There is a pervasive—almost obsessive—concern with response, responsibility, and decision. (shrink)

Nietzsche announces his intentions to publish a “physiology of aesthetics”, namely a naturalistic explanation for how aesthetic judgements are grounded in the physiology of both the one experiencing the work, and the creator of it. But as well as the physiological reduction of aesthetic judgements, Nietzsche in many places across his oeuvre frames the apparatus of physiology, especially the prescriptive dimension of self-cultivation, in terms amenable to being treated as ‘aesthetic’. The first section will mount a (re-) defense of the (...) use of aestheticized language for discussing Nietzschean self-cultivation. The second section demonstrates an aesthetic evaluation of capacities that make possible the acquisition and removal of instinctual components, ultimately arguing for Nietzsche’s qualified indeterminism regarding the capacity for self-cultivation. The third section will assess the pres- ence of another aesthetic measure, this time in terms of envisaging one’s psycho-physiology by reference to an external spectacle. The final section discusses metaethical questions stemming from Nietzsche’s prescriptive language regarding the aestheticization of our physiology. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Ideas and Forms of Tragedy from Aristotle to the Middle AgesRichard J. UtzIdeas and Forms of Tragedy from Aristotle to the Middle Ages, by Henry Ansgar Kelly; xvii & 257 pp. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993, $59.95.If H. A. Kelly had wanted to sing the tune of Norman Cantor’s recent book on nineteenth- and twentieth-century medievalists, he could have called his study “Inventing Tragedy.” However, besides a certain (...) revisionistic attitude, there are no correspondences between the hasty, essayistic Inventing the Middle Ages (1991) and the scholarly, thoroughly philological Ideas and Forms of Tragedy. Where Cantor attempts to convince his readers that the various critical appropriations of the Middle Ages say more about the cultures of their modern reinventors than about the subject of their researches, Kelly is positive that sound source study and textual criticism can provide secure data for a more accurate application of perhaps the most famous of all genre terms to respective historical authors and individual plays. Thus, Kelly considers his book to be a necessary critical corrective of faulty and preconceived (modern) ideas about classical and medieval notions of tragedy. His methodological insistence on a purely philological investigation is responsible for some of the [End Page 253] outstanding virtues of this investigation such as authority, exactitude, and scholarliness; at the same time it is also the cause for the omission of questions essential to a study which purports to present an account not only of the forms but also the “ideas” of tragedy from classical antiquity through late medieval times.Chapters one and two examine various ideas and practices associated with tragedy in ancient Greece and Rome. This concise survey should become assigned reading for students of literary drama because it debunks the belief that the term tragedy conjures up a uniform idea, one that has been relatively constant throughout the ages and that can be attributed to Aristotle’s discussion of the best kind of tragedy in his Poetics. Kelly demonstrates how Aristotle’s broad definition of the term (any serious story, even with a happy ending) was transformed in late antiquity to mean a story ending in irremediable misfortune.Chapter three studies the semantic shifts the word tragedy underwent in the early Middle Ages. Kelly establishes convincingly that the various early medieval lexicographers and commentators (the most intriguing discussions include Isidore of Seville, Remigius of Auxerre, and Papias) knew much less about tragedy and had a much less unified idea of tragedy than is assumed by many modern-day scholars of drama. A vague knowledge of the genre also characterizes the twelfth century (chapter four), when—with the exception of John of Salisbury—creative mélanges of authentic classical traits and postclassical distortions dominated.The fifth chapter demonstrates that most commentators in the high Middle Ages, despite the reception of Aristotle directly from the Greek or through Arabic intermediaries, vary widely on the meanings they attach to the word “tragedy.” Most of them, such as John Garland, even consider it an empty, obsolete genre, one practiced only by very few poets of classical antiquity. Only Dante Aligheri believed that tragedy was a current genre and that he had made his contribution to it.The study concludes by surveying the developments in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century England, France, Italy, and Spain. Kelly argues that in spite of the greatly increased currency of ideas of tragedy in the later Middle Ages, other genres (vitae of famous men or saints, exempla, complaints) negotiated stories of disaster and death. It seems problematic, however, that Kelly does not further investigate any of the cultural ramifications for and the “ideas” behind the existence and nature of these other genres and the coeval absence of (Aristotelian) tragedy. While he rightly states that medieval vitae, exempla, and planctus all do without discussions of the empathic sorrow for the misfortune of others which characterizes Aristotle’s (and Chaucer’s) ideas of tragedy, his exclusively philological approach—one concerned with sources and textual traditions but not with society or mentalities—makes him circumnavigate essential deliberations about the causes for these conspicuous medieval notions. [End Page 254] Thus, Kelly’s book does not even attempt to answer the... (shrink)