Aristotle's definition of time as 'a number of motion with respect to the before and after' has been branded as patently circular by commentators ranging from Simplicius to W. D. Ross. In this book Tony Roark presents an interpretation of the definition that renders it not only non-circular, but also worthy of serious philosophical scrutiny. He shows how Aristotle developed an account of the nature of time that is inspired by Plato while also thoroughly bound up with Aristotle's sophisticated analyses (...) of motion and perception. When Aristotle's view is properly understood, Roark argues, it is immune to devastating objections against the possibility of temporal passage articulated by McTaggart and other 20th century philosophers. Roark's novel and fascinating interpretation of Aristotle's temporal theory will appeal to those interested in Aristotle, ancient philosophy and the philosophy of time. (shrink)

On the life and works of the Indian philosopher Aurobindo Ghose, 1872-1950.

Gyula Klima maintains that Anselm's ontological argument is best understood in terms of a theory of reference that was made fully explicit only by later medievals. I accept the interpretative claim but offer here two objections to the argument so interpreted. The first points up a certain ambiguity in Klima's formulation of the argument, the correction of which requires a substantive revision of the argument's conclusion. The second exploits the notion of semantic closure introduced by Tarski. Klima offers the atheist (...) an ?out? by drawing a distinction between constitutive and parasitic reference. I argue that using Klima's preferred description (?the thought object than which no thought object can be thought to be greater?) to refer constitutively to God results in conceptual closure, a condition analogous to semantic closure that renders the instant conceptual scheme inconsistent and subject to paradox. Although the proof ultimately fails, Klima's development of the notions of constitutive and parasitic reference has important and far-reaching implications. (shrink)

Removing the Commons defends a Lockean Left-Libertarian account of the moral conditions in which people may remove, either via use or appropriation, natural resources from the commons. I conclude that self-owning agents may remove natural resources from the commons just so long as they leave others the competitive value of their removal in a way that best affords others an equal opportunity for welfare.

This article sets out a new conception of ‘property as an asset of resilience’. Building on Fineman’s emphasis on ‘webs’ of resilience, and applying insights from Actor-Network Theory and Resilient Property Theory, we examine how the rhetorical claims asserted by owners and non-owners, individually and collectively, and the ways that law recognizes and endorses those claims, affect the production of property-as-resilience. Applying Fineman’s framework, we argue that the ‘embodiment’ and ‘embeddedness’ of human vulnerability is revealed by the necessary and inevitable (...) relationship we have with land, housing and place. Everyone—including homeless people—must ‘be’ somewhere (embodiment); however, it is our ability to access ‘assets of resilience’ through our social embeddedness in institutional structures and relationships that mitigates (or not) our experience and life opportunities. In this article we analyze the nature of real property as an asset of resilience, the consequences of exclusionary concepts of ownership for how resilience is allocated, and the implications for how we think and talk about ‘exclusion’ and ‘inclusion’ in property theories and property law. We consider the roles that states perform in the allocation of property as an asset of resilience: both directly, through the protection and enforcement of private property rights and official narratives about the nature of private property; and indirectly, as owners leverage the hinterland of privilege extended to ‘ownership’ and owners to deepen their own networks of resilience. (shrink)

The title of this paper is intended as a provocative reference to Ursula Coope 's recent article 'Why Does Aristotle Say That There Is No Time Without Change?', which provides much of the impetus for the present paper.1 For although Coope 's strategy in answering this question is admirable, and although I think that her criticisms of the standard interpretation of the argument that opens Physics IV 11 hit their mark, I believe that her own interpretation fails and that something (...) rather like the standard interpretation is correct. In the first section, I rehearse Coope 's treatment of the standard interpretation and critically evaluate her alternative to it. In the second section, I present an interpretation of the argument that seems to me to succeed where the others fail and also to hold the promise of being quite fruitful in reconstructing the rest of Aristotle's temporal theory. While such a reconstruction lies well beyond the scope of this paper, I shall conclude by mentioning a few of the more significant points that fall out of the interpretation developed here. (shrink)

A particular amount of punishment is justified if and only if that amount of punishment is deserved and the desert claim is not overridden. In the case of some multiple murderers or people who perform serious violent acts in addition to murder, the deserved punishment must involve torture. I argue that this legitimate desert claim is not overridden by objections based on notions of brutality and inhumanity, the Kantian concern that persons be treated as ends, the intuitive distaste that many (...) persons have for torture, the negative consequences of institutionalized torture, the concern for bias in the imposition of punishment, and the need for accuracy in measuring harms. (shrink)

The central challenge for the temporal realist is providing a coherent analysis of temporal passage, the apparent ‘flow’ of time from earlier to later. I show here how the account of time Aristotle presents in Physics IV could serve as a basis for just such an analysis, for his view is immune to the standard stock of objections levelled by twentieth century philosophers. And although his account is itself subject to a damning objection, I believe that the troublemaking element might (...) be supplanted by alternative views suited to fulfil the requisite theoretical role. I conclude that, subject to such revision, an Aristotelian conception of time looks to be the leading candidate. (shrink)

In this paper I examine Thomas Aquinas’s attempt at theodicy (the reconciliation of evil in the world with the existence of an all-powerful, -knowing, and -loving God). Aquinas’s theodicy, utilizing the book of Job, maintains that God uses suffering and fear as a method to encourage us to form a loving relationship with Him. I argue that Aquinas’s theodicy fails because an all-loving God would not utilize suffering and fear as a method by which to encourage us to form a (...) loving relationship with Him. As I argue through example, loving relationships between persons are not underwritten on the foundations of suffering and fear, and as such we have no good reason to think that God would use such methods to form His loving relationships. (shrink)

So serious a matter is capital punishment that we must consider very carefully any claim regarding its justification. Brian Calvert has offered a new version of the “argument from arbitrariness,” according to which a retributivist cannot consistently hold that some, but not all, first-degree murderers may justifiably receive the death penalty, when it is conceived to be a unique form of punishment. At the heart of this argument is the line-drawing problem, and I am inclined to think that it is (...) a genuine challenge for the retributivist. I respond on behalf of the retributivist by formulating a line-drawing method that relies on the distinction between clearly deserving and not clearly deserving and is justified by a version of the lex talionis modified with an epistemic constraint. (shrink)

Aristotle’s views on time have received sporadic at tention over the years, but Ursula Coope’s elegantl y- written book is the first monograph available in En glish dedicated exclusively to the account that Ari stotle develops in the final five chapters of Physics IV. Three topics form the thematic core of the boo k: time’s relation to change, time’s status as a kind of numb er, and the unity and diversity of times. I shall t ouch on each of these (...) themes and indicate how I think Coope ’s interpretation fares. While I disagree with her reconstruction of the account on several central po ints, it exhibits a great deal of ingenuity and sophistication and deserves careful consideration. (shrink)

Extant accounts of exploitation typically focus on either an exchange or interaction between persons, or on exploitative systems (i.e., global capitalism). We propose a new account of exploitation that focuses instead on the benefits an exploiter enjoys which are had at the expense of another, the exploited party. This account is developed by considering the benefits enjoyed by consumers (e.g., inexpensive sweatshop-made goods) and the manner in which those benefits are produced (e.g., the loss of dignity suffered by sweatshop workers). (...) On our account, an exploitative relationship need not involve any interaction or exchange between exploiter and exploited. Neither is exploitation a property of systems or institutions. Instead, we argue that a consumer who buys a shirt produced under near slave-like conditions engages in a moral wrong by exploiting the worker who made it even though the two may be far-removed in space and time. (shrink)

We argue that agents have a prima facie moral duty to help other agents fulfill their moral duties; we call this duty moral charity. The duty is an extension of the traditional duty of charity, where an act of charity is one that helps an agent fulfill her needs. The traditional focus of charity has long been limited to material needs, such as money, food, and shelter. We think this is overly restrictive and ignores other important needs. Our needs are (...) a function of our natures, which are biological, psychological, social, and moral. Accordingly, we have correlative needs in each domain given by the requirements of our nature. A moral need, following from our moral nature, is the requirement to fulfill our moral obligations. An act of moral charity aids others in fulfilling their moral obligations when it would be difficult or impossible for them to do so otherwise. The duty of charity that requires us to help the hungry and the homeless also requires that we help others do what they o .. (shrink)

Since its inception in the Middle Ages, the university classroom can be characterized by students gathered around a sage who imparts his or her knowledge. However, the effective classroom of today looks vastly different: First-year engineering students not only learn basic engineering principles, but are also guided to consider their own inner values and motivations as they design and build adaptive devices for people with disabilities; students in a large chemistry lecture work animatedly together in small groups on inquiry-based activities (...) while an instructor and teaching assistants circulate and guide their learning; students learning differential equations practice explicit metacognitive skills while problem-solving in class. Even though educational research, especially research that is targeted at STEM disciplines, demonstrates what most effectively engages students and supports their learning, many of today's classrooms look much like they did a century ago, with a professor delivering a primarily one-way lecture and students passively sitting in seats bolted to the floor. At this juncture in history, colleges and universities face a public call to engage a more diverse representation of students in effective learning, persistence, and degree attainment, and to do so economically and efficiently. It is essential that institutions draw upon methods demonstrated to effectively increase student learning and success. Educational researchers have thoroughly explored the "basic" science in this area, and a body of literature documents effective evidence-based instructional practices, hereafter referred to as EBIPs. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Thus Spake Howard Roark:Nietzschean Ideas in The FountainheadLester H. HuntIThe position I will be taking here will seem very peculiar to many people. I will be treating a novel as a discussion of the work of a philosopher—namely, Friedrich Nietzsche. Worse yet, I will be treating it as a discussion that is philosophically penetrating and deserves to be taken seriously. Still worse, the novel is Ayn Rand's early novel (...) The Fountainhead. I think it is safe to say that her reputation, among academics who discuss the works of philosophers, is very low. If the reader will only bear with me, though, I think I can make a case that Rand opens a line of inquiry about Nietzsche's ideas and values that is not only quite interesting in itself but one that ought to be pursued further by others.There has always been ample reason to associate Nietzsche with The Fountainhead.1 He is after all, the only philosopher who is more or less directly quoted in the book.2 Beyond that, Rand's novel has many other passages that students of Nietzsche instantly recognize as conscious references to him or deliberate echoes of his style. In addition, she revealed, in an introduction written for the twenty-fifth anniversary edition, that the following quotation from Beyond Good and Evil had originally stood at the head of the book when it was still in manuscript:It is not the works, but the belief which is here decisive and determines the order of rank to—employ once more an old religious formula with a new and deeper meaning—it is some fundamental certainty which a noble soul has about itself, something which is not to be sought, is not [End Page 79] to be found, and perhaps, also, is not to be lost—The noble soul has reverence for itself.—3She said, in the same introduction, that she removed the quotation (evidently, immediately before publication) for philosophical reasons, because of her "profound disagreement with the philosophy of its author." Nietzsche, she says, was fundamentally "a mystic and irrationalist," and even in this quotation, chosen for its content, insinuates a philosophical position that she regards as erroneous (namely, determinism). Even her statement of what she likes about this passage is rather constrained: "as a poet [ie., not as a philosopher], he projects at times (not consistently) a magnificent feeling for man's greatness, expressed in emotional, not intellectual terms."4It is of course true enough that Rand does disagree with Nietzsche, and for more or less the reasons that she suggests here, but it is also true that the passage she has quoted expresses some ethical themes—nobility, order of rank, the "pathos of distance," and (most obviously) the idea of self-reverence as a characteristic of the ethically good—which are at least as important in The Fountainhead as they are in Nietzsche's writings. Though Rand's spirited disclaimer serves to remind us of her deep differences with Nietzsche, the quotation itself suggests that there might be an interesting philosophical, not merely literary or emotional, connection between The Fountainhead and Nietzsche's ideas. What I would like to show here is that this connection merits a much closer look than it has ever been given heretofore. Not only is the presence of Nietzschean themes in Rand's novel deep and pervasive, but the book actually contains a very interesting and powerful internal critique of one of Nietzsche's most characteristic ideas, a criticism based in large part on values and assumptions that he shares. Before I can set out this critique, I will need to explore some of the positive thematic and philosophical connections.IIOne evening, rather late in the novel, Gail Wynand, the corrupt newspaper publisher and financier, surprises his wife, Dominique, with a present: he has had an architect design a house for them. The architect, she realizes with shock as she sees the drawings for the house, is her former lover, Howard Roark, a man with whom she is still in love. None of this is known to her husband, who innocently tells her that [End Page 80] Roark... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Thus Spake Howard Roark:Nietzschean Ideas in The FountainheadLester H. HuntIThe position I will be taking here will seem very peculiar to many people. I will be treating a novel as a discussion of the work of a philosopher—namely, Friedrich Nietzsche. Worse yet, I will be treating it as a discussion that is philosophically penetrating and deserves to be taken seriously. Still worse, the novel is Ayn Rand's early novel (...) The Fountainhead. I think it is safe to say that her reputation, among academics who discuss the works of philosophers, is very low. If the reader will only bear with me, though, I think I can make a case that Rand opens a line of inquiry about Nietzsche's ideas and values that is not only quite interesting in itself but one that ought to be pursued further by others.There has always been ample reason to associate Nietzsche with The Fountainhead.1 He is after all, the only philosopher who is more or less directly quoted in the book.2 Beyond that, Rand's novel has many other passages that students of Nietzsche instantly recognize as conscious references to him or deliberate echoes of his style. In addition, she revealed, in an introduction written for the twenty-fifth anniversary edition, that the following quotation from Beyond Good and Evil had originally stood at the head of the book when it was still in manuscript:It is not the works, but the belief which is here decisive and determines the order of rank to—employ once more an old religious formula with a new and deeper meaning—it is some fundamental certainty which a noble soul has about itself, something which is not to be sought, is not [End Page 79] to be found, and perhaps, also, is not to be lost—The noble soul has reverence for itself.—3She said, in the same introduction, that she removed the quotation (evidently, immediately before publication) for philosophical reasons, because of her "profound disagreement with the philosophy of its author." Nietzsche, she says, was fundamentally "a mystic and irrationalist," and even in this quotation, chosen for its content, insinuates a philosophical position that she regards as erroneous (namely, determinism). Even her statement of what she likes about this passage is rather constrained: "as a poet [ie., not as a philosopher], he projects at times (not consistently) a magnificent feeling for man's greatness, expressed in emotional, not intellectual terms."4It is of course true enough that Rand does disagree with Nietzsche, and for more or less the reasons that she suggests here, but it is also true that the passage she has quoted expresses some ethical themes—nobility, order of rank, the "pathos of distance," and (most obviously) the idea of self-reverence as a characteristic of the ethically good—which are at least as important in The Fountainhead as they are in Nietzsche's writings. Though Rand's spirited disclaimer serves to remind us of her deep differences with Nietzsche, the quotation itself suggests that there might be an interesting philosophical, not merely literary or emotional, connection between The Fountainhead and Nietzsche's ideas. What I would like to show here is that this connection merits a much closer look than it has ever been given heretofore. Not only is the presence of Nietzschean themes in Rand's novel deep and pervasive, but the book actually contains a very interesting and powerful internal critique of one of Nietzsche's most characteristic ideas, a criticism based in large part on values and assumptions that he shares. Before I can set out this critique, I will need to explore some of the positive thematic and philosophical connections.IIOne evening, rather late in the novel, Gail Wynand, the corrupt newspaper publisher and financier, surprises his wife, Dominique, with a present: he has had an architect design a house for them. The architect, she realizes with shock as she sees the drawings for the house, is her former lover, Howard Roark, a man with whom she is still in love. None of this is known to her husband, who innocently tells her that [End Page 80] Roark... (shrink)

Let me begin my reply to Professor Roark’s objections in good old scholastic fashion, by a distinction. Philosophical objections can be good in two senses. In the first, trivial sense, a good objection is one that convincingly shows the presence of a genuine error in a position or reasoning. Such objections are useful, but uninspiring. In the second, non-trivial sense, a good philosophical objection broadens and deepens our understanding of the problems at issue, whether or not they manage to refute (...) the opponent’s position. In this reply I am going to argue that even if Roark’s objections may not be necessarily good in the first, trivial sense, they are.. (shrink)

The Tao of Roark: Variations on a Theme from Ayn Rand, by Peter Saint-Andre, is a guide to personal development. He begins with the theme of youthful discovery in The Fountainhead and its protagonist, Howard Roark, progressing through forty-eight “variations,” familiar to close readers of Rand's novel: principles, virtues, and evaluations, which begin with reason and the integration of emotions. This is the intellectual and emotional journey of the author, shared, to inspire the reader.

Although Robert Nozick has argued that libertarianism is compatible with the justice of a minimal state—even if does not arise from mutual consent—few have been persuaded. I will outline a different way of establishing that a non-consensual libertarian state can be just. I will show that a state can—with a few important qualifications—justly enforce the rights of citizens, extract payments to cover the costs of such enforcement, redistribute resources to the poor, and invest in infrastructure to overcome market failures. Footnotesa (...) For very helpful comments, I am indebted to Dani Attas, Ellen Frankel Paul, Robert Johnson, Brian Kierland, Mike Otsuka, Eric Roark, and the other contributors to this volume. (shrink)

Manifesto "is the projection of an ideal man. The portrayal of a moral ideal, as my ultimate literary goal, as an end in itself - to which any didactic, intellectual or philosophical values contained in a novel are only the means" (162). That she largely succeeded in her goal is attested to by the fact that her novels have enabled countless readers to reshape their lives. The story of Kira in We the Living, the image of Howard Roark in The (...) Fountainhead, the example of Dagny in Atlas Shrugged - all these have given readers the courage to free themselves from destructive circumstances or to make the right decisions in pivotal moments of their lives, and undergirded their conviction that only a life of moral integrity is a truly successful life. The story of the life and character of Howard Roark is, perhaps, the best known and most influential of Rand’s stories. (shrink)

The first sexual encounter between Dominique Francon and Howard Roark in The Fountainhead is known as the “rape scene.” From the time of the novel's publication, some readers have found a contradiction between Rand's views on freedom and the violence within the novel. The ambiguity arises from the way in which the scenes leading up to the event are constructed, the sadomasochistic context of the novel, and Rand's views of gender and romantic relationships. Although Rand repeatedly denied that any rape (...) occurred, this article concludes that a rape did occur and that Rand fully intended it to be so. (shrink)

Because of Ayn Rand's problematic moral labels on her characters, Gail Wynand, not Howard Roark, should be her true Nietzschean hero. Wynand meets the criteria of both the Nietzschean Superman and Rand's Objectivism. Roark's false integrity taints his greatness and improperly vulgarizes him as a Nietzschean Superman. Rand problematically wants her heroes to accept the greatness of the Übermensch, but reject his natural existence and will to power. Dominique Francon should be her true Nietzschean villain, because, unlike Ellsworth Toohey, she (...) enjoys the painful destruction of herself and others. (shrink)

Ayn Rand's 1943 masterpiece, The Fountainhead is the story of Howard Roark, an architect of enormous talent who turns down one lucrative commission after another because they would force him to modify his designs and compromise his integrity, but in spite of his refusals, or perhaps because of them, he goes on to triumph over many obstacles and establish himself as a master. Douglas Den Uyl's new study, The Fountainhead: An American Novel, is the first volume to exclusively explore Rand's (...) most famous novel and also delve into her theory of individualism, called "objectivism." This theory eschews all government intervention into both the lives of individuals and the workings of a capitalist economy and has inspired a popular philosophical following for Rand over the years. (shrink)

BILL MARTIN replies to Sciabarra's essay on Rand, Rush, and progressive rock with critical reflections from a Marxist perspective. Focusing on the film version of The Fountainhead, which shares much in common with film noir and Socialist Realism, Martin rejects as reification Rand's emphasis on property as the defining feature of human life. Her dismissal of rock music has overtones of racism and Eurocentrism. The rock band Rush may have drawn inspiration from Howard Roark, but two other real-life role models (...) would have been better suited: Ludwig van Beethoven and Frank Lloyd Wright. (shrink)

Martin replies to Sciabarra's essay on Rand, Rush, and progressive rock with critical reflections from a Marxist perspective. Focusing on the film version of The Fountainhead, which shares much in common with film noir and Socialist Realism, Martin rejects as reification Rand's emphasis on property as the defining feature of human life. Her dismissal of rock music has overtones of racism and Eurocentrism. The rock band Rush may have drawn inspiration from Howard Roark, but two other real-life role models would (...) have been better suited: Ludwig van Beethoven and Frank Lloyd Wright. (shrink)