Research using Controlled Human Infection Models is yet to be attempted in India. This study was conducted to understand the perceptions of the lay public and key opinion makers prior to the possible introduction of such studies in the country. 110 respondents from urban and rural Bangalore district were interviewed using qualitative research methods of Focus Group Discussions and In-depth Interviews. The data was analyzed using grounded theory. Safety was a key concern of the lay public, expressed in terms of (...) fear of death. The notion of infecting a healthy volunteer, the possibility of continued effects beyond the study duration and the likelihood of vulnerable populations volunteering solely for monetary benefit, were ethical concerns. Public good outcomes such as effective treatments, targeted vaccines and prevention of diseases was necessary justification for such studies. However, the comprehension of this benefit was not clear among non-medical, non-technical respondents and suggestions to seek alternatives to CHIMs repeatedly arose. There was a great deal of deflection—with each constituency feeling that people other than themselves may be ideally suited as participants. Risk takers, those without dependents, the more health and research literate, financially sound and those with an altruistic bent of mind emerged as possible CHIM volunteers. While widespread awareness and advocacy about CHIM is essential, listening to plural voices is the first step in public engagement in ethically contentious areas. Continued engagement and inclusive deliberative processes are required to redeem the mistrust of the public in research and rebuild faith in regulatory systems. (shrink)

This complex and subtle book is difficult to summarize. The author intends it as a supplement to existing commentaries on Plato’s Meno, rather than as a straightforward commentary of his own. His approach to Plato builds upon that of Leo Strauss, Jacob Klein, and the Tübingen School, but is not reducible to any of these and contains other influences as well, such as Heidegger. In addition to taking with minute seriousness the dramatic composition of the dialogue, Brague combines precise and (...) sensitive philological tools with a marked ontological interest. He reads the Platonic dialogue in a bipolar perspective. Dialogues are tests of friendship but at the same time, as "works" or literary texts rather than objects, they may have a sense in themselves. Brague cites Proust in this context, but one thinks also of Derrida. Consequently the dialogue has both an intrinsic order, corresponding to the rhythmic development of its theme, and also an allusive dimension or a lacuna suggested by the text, to be filled in by the reader. In a similar sense one may say that the theme of the Meno is bipolar. The first pole is the theme of the nature of the soul, hence of virtue, and more specifically, of Meno’s soul. Meno’s defective nature is the basis for a continuous "degradation" in the stages of the dialogue. Alternatively, it is the basis for Meno’s "anthropological" approach to virtue. The key to the Meno is that the Good is missing from the dialogue. This observation provides a transition to the second thematic pole. The structure of the dialogue reflects the stages of Plato’s esoteric teaching as presented by K. Gaiser : dialectic, geometry, politics. This raises a question for Brague, which he does not seem to me to answer : if this is the order of Plato’s secret system, how is the degraded presentation of the system, relative to Meno’s defective soul, isomorphic to the hierarchical structure of the system? Granting that politics is lower than dialectic, there must be a better and a worse presentation of politics. Brague’s approach entails that the degraded image of the structure nevertheless reveals the structure itself. But if the Good is absent from the image, how are we to infer that it is present in the structure? A similar problem suggests itself with respect to what Brague calls the key to the movement of the dialogue: the distinction between the limiting and the limited and correspondingly, "the powerlessness of the limit" in Meno’s case. In the last and longest section of the book, there are many fine analyses and illuminating insights, too many to do justice to here. One may call special attention to the connection between the episode of recollection and geometry on the one hand, and the duality of principles in Plato’s system. I also found unusually helpful Brague’s exposition of the "feminine" nature of Plato’s teaching of genesis, of the link between Plato’s use of anakineisthai and the dramatic device of a prologue, and the significance of katasëmainesthai in conjunction with the theme of "growing" and preserving virtuous youths. In sum: this is a book to be read carefully and slowly by every serious student of Plato. It is almost as difficult, and hence as controversial, as a Platonic dialogue. It is marked throughout, even when influenced by contemporary schools of thought, by a genuine interest in Plato’s manner of thinking and writing. This is not exactly a common property of contemporary books on Plato.—S.R. (shrink)

This is a careful, line-by-line and often word-by-word commentary on Book XII of the Metaphysics. The commentary is preceded by a seven part introduction which deals with the theology of Book XII, noûs, self-knowledge, desire, the place of the book in Aristotle’s writings, its date and structure, and the problem of Chapter 8 and Aristotle’s monotheism. Elders claims Chapter 8 was not written by Aristotle but by a disciple or disciples. He also claims that Book XII contains at least five (...) other distinct treatises which come from different periods in Aristotle’s life. Throughout his book Elders summarizes the opinions of all the important modern and ancient commentators who have written on the questions he examines, and makes copious references to other Greek thinkers and other works of Aristotle. For example the section on self-knowledge moves through several dialogues of Plato and through Aristotle’s ethical writings. Philological observations abound, and Elders is sensitive to philosophical aspects in them. Some of his remarks about terms like ousia and dokei contain helpful philosophical insights. The presentation is lean, clear and direct. Elders has marked off another definite part of Aristotle’s Metaphysics and has supplied us with all the information, sources and scholarly commentary that are available for it.—R. S. (shrink)

The main purpose of this book is to offer a comparative evaluation of the early works of Marx and Lukács, "these two most important texts of 'unorthodox' Marxism". Feenberg refers here to the Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts on the one hand, and History and Class Consciousness on the other. At a somewhat more general level, Feenberg writes in defense of, or more accurately in preparation for a new stage in, the philosophy of praxis. To proceed directly to his conclusion, Feenberg's (...) analyses culminate in the recommendation of a synthesis between Marx's concept of the internal relation between subject and object, or their participatory identity, and Lukács' mediation-theory of rationality, according to which reification is an intrinsic element at the dialectical level of reason, which is thus a mediation of nature on the one hand, and the subject-object relation on the other. In less complex terms, Feenberg recommends the development, from elements of Marxist and Lukácsian doctrines, of a "non-creationist concept of practice", i.e., one in which nature is not created by man, a concept that is also not pure objectivism, i.e., that prevents a complete identity of subject and object. Feenberg thus perceives the central problem in the early Marx and Lukács as one that links them more intimately with Absolute Idealism than his own analysis makes explicit. The "fundamental flaw in the philosophies of practice of Marx and Lukács" is, to put it as briefly and clearly as possible, that in these doctrines, man is still a creator-god. (shrink)

The main thesis of this book is that Wittgenstein’s early philosophy is an exemplification of Newtonian physics, whereas the later philosophy exemplifies contemporary, relativistic physics. The reader may recall Wittgenstein’s insistence, during both major periods of his thought, upon the separation of philosophy from science. However, Bolton’s unstated premise is that Wittgenstein’s thought was unconsciously determined by two different conceptions of physics. Whatever one may think of this, it leaves a question unanswered. Since both periods of Wittgenstein’s thought follow the (...) development of relativistic physics, why was he initially influenced by Newtonian physics or its expression in modern philosophy? Was this a contingent error of the youthful Wittgenstein, or an expression of historical inevitability? We find no discussion of this difficult problem in Bolton’s book. Instead, he claims, and to some extent shows, that Wittgenstein, in the Tractatus, crystallizes the axioms of modern philosophy, which is essentially Newtonian. At the historical level, this thesis is either wrong or uninformative. It is wrong because not all of modern philosophy can be explained on the basis of the peculiarities of modern or Newtonian physics. It is uninformative because to the extent that all modern philosophers took Newtonian physics for granted, the latter cannot account for the sharp differences between, say, John Locke and Hegel. Nevertheless, Bolton provides interesting and plausible reasons for regarding the Tractatus as an expression of that aspect of modern philosophy which may profitably be called "Newtonian." He fails to convince at least one reader that the repudiation of the Tractatus is a repudiation of modern philosophy for anyone other than Wittgenstein and his followers. On the other hand, once we discount, or even disregard, Bolton’s historical thesis, the more traditional virtues of his book come sharply into focus. Having recently reviewed the 686 page commentary by Baker and Hacker on the first third of the Investigations, as well as Wright’s 481 page essay on Wittgenstein’s philosophy of mathematics, the author of this note is in a good position to appreciate the economy and lucidity of Bolton’s summary analysis of the main points in the Tractatus. As an example of my disagreement with Bolton’s interpretation, I begin with a brief citation from p. 86. (shrink)

David Allison here translates Derrida’s booklet, La voix et le phénomène and two essays, "La forme et le vouloir-dire" and "La différance". It is a good translation, readable and accurate, even though once or twice he seems reluctant to move fully into English idiom: why not, for instance, render "la vive voix" as "speaking out loud" instead of "living vocal medium"? Derrida claims Husserl is caught in the classical metaphysics of presence, an entrapment shown by his belief that the meaning (...) of speech can be isolated from reference or indication, at least in the privileged case of phenomenological reflection: for then we do not speak to another, only to ourselves, and no indication is needed to turn our minds towards what is discussed. In this privileged discourse we enjoy a sheer presence of meaning, with no indication or reference to anything absent, and no need for the sounding voice either. But Derrida claims that when we think we can never do without indication and sound—at least the imagined sound of inner speech—and so even the privileged presence of phenomenological reflection must involve some absences. The speaker himself is constituted only with the signs and sensuosity of speech, not by a sheer view of presence. (shrink)

The peripeties of academic philosophy have been accelerated to the point at which it is now fashionable to refer to a "Wittgenstein revival." This implies that interest in Wittgenstein was only a short while ago in remission. Whether or not this is true, the present volume portends a new stage in Wittgenstein exegesis, somewhat reminiscent of the scholastic commentaries on Aquinas or the late classical commentaries on Aristotle. Two thoughts spring directly to the reviewer’s mind. Is the Philosophical Investigations actually (...) so difficult, or is the nature of its difficulty such that a 686 page commentary is required to explain the first 184 paragraphs, or approximately one-third of that work? What would Wittgenstein have said of Understanding and Meaning? One might object that the second question is irrelevant to the merits of the commentary. But surely Wittgenstein’s mode of composition, his well-known attitude toward academic philosophy in general and his disciples in particular, and above all, his injunction that philosophy is an activity, not a theory, must have some bearing upon the question of how to discuss his work. Shortly stated, Wittgenstein’s conception of philosophy must be reflected in his mode of writing. No one would deny that this mode is difficult. What is the exact nature of the difficulty, and how shall commentators respond to it? (shrink)

Frank Arntzenius has recently suggested that we should reject the standard view that the instantaneous state in classical mechanics consists of both the position and the velocity. In his view, the velocity as ordinarily defined-as the derivative of position with respect to time-cannot be genuinely instantaneous, and, thus, it should be excluded from the instantaneous state. After reviewing Bertrand Russell's traditional objections to the notion of an instantaneous velocity and suggesting that Russell's concerns can be effectively answered, I argue that (...) Arntzenius' attempt to show that the standard definition of velocity fails to yield an instantaneous property is not compelling either. Although I review several suggestions that Arntzenius makes against the existence of instantaneous velocity, much of his case rests upon an intuition, which has also appeared in the work of David Albert, about what is required of genuine instantaneous states. I argue in part that there is no reason to accept this intuition, and, thus, no reason to revise standard physical practice when it comes to the classical, instantaneous state. (shrink)

The primary purpose of this book is to probe the "deep common sources" of Wittgenstein’s Investigations and Remarks on the Foundation of Mathematics in his later philosophy of language. The question is whether Wittgenstein’s thought about mathematics can be presented sympathetically, and so defended from charges of superficiality or eccentricity which have often been levelled against it. There are other strands in this complex, simultaneously gripping and maddening work, including confrontations of varying extent with relevant doctrines of Dummett, Davidson, and (...) Quine, to cite the main cases. The character of Wittgenstein’s own thought was far from systematic, yet this does not seem to justify the virtual lack of systematic presentation of his defense by Wright. We can, nevertheless, pick out the main thrust of Wright’s case. The author takes his bearings by the quarrel within twentieth century philosophy of mathematics between platonism and intuitionism. Platonism may be briefly described as the view that, if p is a mathematical proposition, we know what would be the case if p were true, even if we can't show that p is true. For intuitionism, on the other hand, to know what would be the case if p were true, is impossible unless we can show that p is indeed true. (shrink)

Miller first examines the New Critics’ theory of metaphor, then presents his own views. There is one chapter on Hulme and Richards, one on Empson, Tate, Ransom and Brooks, and a third on Wimsatt, Wheelwright, and Krieger. Chapter Four contains Miller’s position and applies it to some metaphors from the metaphysical poets, and Chapter Five examines the problem of the objective status of a work of verbal art. Miller uses Richards’ distinction between the tenor and vehicle of a metaphor; in (...) "My love is a red, red rose," "love" is the tenor and "rose" the vehicle, and a metaphor occurs only in the tense convergence of tenor and vehicle. With this formal scheme he defines surface and submerged metaphors—the former having both elements stated, the latter having the tenor unstated but implied; Miller distinguishes these from moribund metaphors, like the "foot" of a mountain, in which the appropriate tenors are forgotten, not submerged. He distinguishes positive and negative metaphor, depending upon the emphasis the metaphor places on either the fusion or the resistance between tenor and vehicle, for both forces must operate within a lively metaphor. He distinguishes simple, complex and compound metaphors, to the extent that tenor and vehicle are either simple terms or else contain, each or both of them, metaphors inside themselves. In the case of compound metaphors, sometimes the vehicle can be submerged, and if the critic can find what the vehicle is, the poetic passage acquires a more condensed and unified logical form. Miller’s application of these schemes to concrete instances of metaphor are carried out to good effect. His treatment of the epistemology and ontology of a work of verbal art is less successful; he wishes to accommodate both subjective and objective aspects, but tends to consider a manifestation of a poem as the poem itself. He considers the written documentation of a poem to be marks on a surface which serve as stimuli to the reader’s awareness; but units of documentation are written words, not marks, and the process of reading is not, as he claims, a process of decoding. He distinguishes between oral documentation and performance, but seems to think records, tapes and films are instances of the former; would not memory, or perhaps even recitation by rote, be better examples of oral documentation? He considers Saussurian langue as an example of a "cultural object" which finds manifestation in parole; but if this is so, how can there ever be intermediate cultural objects like poems or stories? Langue would be the only verbal cultural object there is. It would be better to consider poems and stories as cultural objects, and language as a potential matrix for them, much as matter is a matrix for substances. Miller objects to the metaphor of "organism" for a poem, because, he says, when we take a poem apart in critical analysis, we do not kill it; therefore the metaphor of "machine" is better—something that can be taken apart and put together again. But surely the correction here is not to replace organism by machine, but to change one’s understanding of what it is to take apart. The critic takes apart in thought, the way a mathematician does, and not like a butcher. Miller’s book is extremely interesting, asks many good questions, and should be read with profit and delight by philosophers interested in language.—R. S. (shrink)