This paper considers Mary Midgley's views on evolution, especially as developed in her book Evolution as a Religion. In this she continues the critical campaign she waged against Dawkins’ notion of the selfish gene, but broadens her attack out to encompass many other thinkers, who are predicting dramatic and revolutionary futures for humanity, based supposedly on what evolutionary science tells us. Midgley argues that no such conclusions are scientifically warranted – hence evolution as a religion. Her own attempts to absolve (...) Darwin himself from this sort of scientism, and to remove from him any taint of social Darwinism are criticised, particularly by reference to The Descent of Man. Something is then said about Midgley's own alternative view of nature and humanity, a more holistic view, which itself has religious overtones. (shrink)

Although this collection of articles is not formally a commentary on Elizabeth Anscombe's famous article of the same title, in which she criticized the moral philosophy prevalent in 1958, a number of the contributors consider Anscombe's work as a starting point. The collection can be interpreted as a demonstration of the extent to which moral philosophers have since attempted to respond to Anscombe's challenge, and to develop an approach to their subject which is neither based on divine law nor permissive (...) of the impermissible. (shrink)

Although this collection of articles is not formally a commentary on Elizabeth Anscombe's famous article of the same title, in which she criticised the moral philosophy prevalent in 1958, a number of the contributors do take Anscombe's work as a starting point. Taken together the collection could be seen as a demonstration of the extent to which moral philosophers have since attempted to answer Anscombe's challenge, and to develop an approach to their subject which, while psychologically plausible, is neither based (...) on divine law nor permissive of the impermissible. (shrink)

What is moral philosophy? That is the question with which this important volume grapples. Its starting point is the famous critique made in 1958 by Elizabeth Anscombe, who argued that moral philosophy begins from a mistake: that it is fundamentally wrong about the sort of concept that the word 'moral' represents. Anscombe rejected moral philosophy as it was then practised. She offered instead a blueprint for the task moral philosophers must embrace if they are to speak intelligibly to society about (...) good and bad, right and wrong, duty and obligation. The chapters in this book are inspired by Anscombe's classic text. One of the most powerful voices here, among many authoritative voices, is that of Philippa Foot – Anscombe's lifelong friend – who asserts that 'any account of practical reason evacuated of an understanding of what human beings need to flourish is inadequate and must be rejected.'. (shrink)

In *Here and There*, Stanley Cavell suggests that music, like speech, implicates the listener, so that our descriptions of music "are to be thought of not as discoveries but as impressions and assignments of meaning." Such impressions express what "makes an impression upon us," "what truly matters to us." Moreover, this aspect of music "is itself more revolutionary than ... any political event of which it could be said to form a part." I offer one indication of that significance by (...) considering a recent challenge to an old claim about the relation between jazz and democracy. Stanley Crouch claims that jazz practice is an emblem of democracy, while Benjamin Givan observes the undemocratic, hierarchical way that jazz musicians work together. But both positions rest on a limited notion of "democracy." I contrast it to the tradition in political thought that requires each citizen to find their own voice if they're to acquire the ability to govern themselves. Consequently, a better emblem of jazz's democratic advance lies in the challenge it presents to the attentive listener. Jazz listening is increasingly characterized by a learned culture of hearing what isn't played, hearing allusions, hearing unspoken interplay. The nature of this "hearing between the lines" parallels the tradition of esoteric writing in the history of political thought. It suggests that jazz's democratic importance is found in the listener's willingness to give voice to what she hears, not knowing whether her experience is shared by others or whether it singles her out, possibly for skepticism or ridicule. (shrink)

According to the perceptual view of language comprehension, listeners typically recover high-level linguistic properties such as utterance meaning without inferential work. The perceptual view is subject to the Objection from Context: since utterance meaning is massively context-sensitive, and context-sensitivity requires cognitive inference, the perceptual view is false. In recent work, Berit Brogaard provides a challenging reply to this objection. She argues that in language comprehension context-sensitivity is typically exercised not through inferences, but rather through top-down perceptual modulations or perceptual learning. (...) This paper provides a complete formulation of the Objection from Context and evaluates Brogaards reply to it. Drawing on conceptual considerations and empirical examples, we argue that the exercise of context-sensitivity in language comprehension does, in fact, typically involve inference. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Who Hears?A Zen Buddhist PerspectiveRobert AitkenWestern psychologists and neurologists have attempted to use their concepts to explain East Asian religions for more than seventy-five years. Carl Jung (1875–1961) wrote a long foreword to Richard Wilhelm's The Secret of the Golden Flower back in 1931, which gave many readers in Europe and the Americas their first glimpse of philosophical Daoism.1 A generation later, Erich Fromm's conversations with D. T. (...) Suzuki were recorded in Zen Buddhism and Psychoanalysis.2 In our own time, the Dalai Lama's collaborative work with neuroscientists and psychologists has received widespread attention,3 while academia has given James H. Austin's Zen and the Brain hearty approval.4The process of mutual understanding between Western scientists and teachers of East Asian religion is still incomplete, however, and in earlier times it had barely begun. I remember my amusement back in the 1970s, watching a video of monks trailing streams of wires attached to biofeedback instruments while they were walking formally and solemnly. Even in those early days it was apparent to me that for all their academic credentials, the scholars had started with an ignorance of the subject of their study. They were successful in measuring something in the brain relating to a samādhi condition, but while the monks may have grounded themselves more or less in a settled practice, who is to measure their appreciation of the mejiro chirping in the camellia bush just outside? Great masters of Zen, Zhaozhou, and Deshan and their successors did not talk about being settled, any more than neuroanataomists discuss the importance of the alphabet.The chirping of the mejiro might have reminded the monks of a case, a case that would lie in a dimension even further from the world of wires and dials. "Who is the master of hearing that sound?"5 This was the gist of a question by Bassui Tokushō Zenji—a question that became a public case, one kōan among many other kōans that have not been studied by science. It is time for such a study.My directory of Chinese kōans holds more than 5,500 neatly framed traditional stories set forth to guide the student.6 The modern Zen teacher is conversant with some 550 of these kōans, a number that is sufficient if... if.... There are several caveats. If the teacher treats kōans as historical artifacts, then the stories are no [End Page 89] longer kōans, and the teaching is perniciously misleading. Sometimes the teacher has gone only part way in kōan study. The great house of conventional wisdom has fallen, but he or she doesn't know it is ruined and holds forth in the old explanatory way. Sometimes the teacher has completed the long course of study, but elects to pontificate from within the wreckage of the old manor. Finally there are those who abandon the ruins completely for practice on the open road. Here is my gāthā pointing to that way:Stepping forth on the open road,I vow with all beingsTo distinguish the voices of birds,And make good use of my time.Bassui Zenji's kōan "Who is the master of hearing that sound?" could be paraphrased here at the Pālolo Zen Center as "Who is hearing that thrush singing on the railing outside?" If, in the days before I retired, a student were to respond, "I hear the thrush," I would not have approved. Bassui would not have approved. Intimacy would be missing, and intimacy is the Dao. Intimacy is the way of all the Buddhas. There is no Zen without intimacy; intimacy with what? Both the self and the thrush. That was Bassui's intention, you can be sure.Fayan met Dizang while on pilgrimage. Dizang asked, "What are you up to these days?"Fayan said, "I'm going around one pilgrimage, wherever my feet will carry me."Dizang asked, "What to you expect from pilgrimage?"Fayan said, "I don't know."Dizang said, "Not knowing is most intimate." Fayan underwent great realization. 7Zen Buddhism stresses intimacy, while in... (shrink)

Susan has been profoundly deaf since childhood. She is a hearing aid wearer, and likes to use the induction loops built into some public spaces, such as theaters and cinemas, to help cut down the background noise that can make hearing speech very difficult. But this depends on the building having an induction loop fitted and properly maintained. Like many other induction loop users, Susan frequently finds that the advertised loop system is either working poorly or not working at all. (...) Almost as often, she then has the experience of making a complaint about it only to have the problem denied. If she persists, she is often then met... (shrink)

This paper is an intervention within feminist and queer debates that have re-posed so-called negative states of being as offering productive possibilities for political practice and social transformation. What is sometimes called the politics of negative affect or analyses of political feeling has sought to de-pathologise shame, melancholy, failure, depression, anxieties and other forms of ‘feeling bad’, to open up new ways of thinking about agency, change and transformation. Ann Cvetkovich's recent memoir explores depression as a public feeling and argues (...) that ‘feeling bad might, in fact, be the ground for transformation’. As she suggests, the question, ‘how do I feel’ could usefully be reframed as ‘how does capitalism feel’? This performative staging of political forms of psychosocial reflexivity opens up new strategies for survival, new visions of the future, and importantly de-medicalises feeling beyond an individual expression of psychopathology. The grounds for affective politics might be found within new feminist futures that are attentive to the relations between emotion, affect, feelings and politics. This paper will be situated within these debates and the challenge of thinking about the productive possibilities of negative states of being. However, rather than focus on depression, I will turn my attention to experiences such as psychosis and temporal dissociation, based on my long-standing research with the Hearing Voices Network. In the context of discussions of disability and capability I will discuss the value of concepts such as debility, and ‘living in prognosis’, and respond to the call to think through what such states might offer for feminist and queer practice. (shrink)

An interview with poet and literary critic, Professor Angela Leighton (Senior Research Fellow, Trinity College, Cambridge). She is primarily interested in poetry of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, but also in nineteenth-century aestheticism and its continuing legacy in the twentieth, in particular the work of Woolf, Yeats, Stevens, Bishop, Plath and W.S. Graham. In this interview, Leighton talks about her poetry, the philosophical potential of poetry and the way in which poetry means.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:How I Lost My HearingJanessa SalesI was born as a healthy and strong hearing person, but I became deaf through a result of painful and traumatic cancer treatments. I was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor called Germinoma in 2003. I went through surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. I was good for one and a half years. However, in 2005 when I turned 12 my cancer relapsed. My doctors told (...) me and my family that I had to undergo a much stronger treatment plan called a Bone Marrow Transplant (BMT). One of the possible side effects to this treatment was hearing loss. I unfortunately received this devastating side effect.I still remember the day that I lost my hearing. Before going to sleep that night, I received a dose of chemo. Waking up the next morning, something was terribly wrong. I couldn’t hear anything! I felt as if I were wearing earplugs. I called for my mother and I told her the alarming news, but as she was speaking back to me, I strained to hear her voice. All I saw were her lips moving. My doctors made arrangements for me to get my hearing tested with an audiologist.As the days that passed, I went through a deep depression. My doctors and my family tried different ways to communicate with me. They used note pads or white boards and wrote down what they wanted to say to me. As my hearing lessened, my other senses kicked in. I read body language and expressions. I learned to read lips. It was a little over a month before I got my hearing aids.Going back to school was very difficult, but my hearing loss, in itself, wasn’t as traumatic as the refusal to accept my new life. I spent the next four years trying to be hearing—trying to fix myself— trying to be what I once was. I always strained my ears trying to listen to my teachers. I tried fitting in with my friends, trying to keep up with their conversations, but it was no use. I couldn’t hear a thing; I was lost and confused.However, during my eighth grade year, I was given the choice to transfer to a different school. It was a mainstream school that had a DHH (Deaf and Hard of Hearing) program. It was a scary transition going to a new school, not knowing anybody. I hesitated and did not want to go at first, but eventually I got over my fears.When I transferred over to the other middle school, I still felt lost. I was still trying to be a hearing student. I only knew how to be auditory learner. I couldn’t focus because I wasn’t able to hear my teachers. I was new at sign language, so I couldn’t understand any of my interpreters. I had frequent meltdowns every week.I felt like I didn’t fit into the deaf world or the hearing world. I couldn’t understand either one. I was always misunderstanding my hearing friends, and I wasn’t able to understand my deaf peers because I didn’t fully know their language. I had low self–esteem and I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere.I had to learn to become a visual learner. I was given the use of a Frequency Modulated (FM) system. The FM system is an assistive listening device worn by the speaker to amplify his/her voice and transmit it directly to the listener’s ears via an electronic receiver and special earphones or the listener’s own hearing aids. I also had an interpreter and closed captions when needed.My DHH teacher Mr. H, who was my greatest mentor and role model, set me up with an Individualized Educational Program (IEP) that required that I had to have my homework written down instead being verbally told. I was allowed to have more time on tests when needed, and a note taker for lectures. All of these arrangements really helped me through my new “deaf world.”My mother and I took Sign Language classes at Sacramento State University where Mr. H also taught... (shrink)

In this essay Megan J. Laverty argues that Jean-Jacques Rousseau's conception of humane communication and his proposal for teaching it have implications for our understanding of the role of listening in education. She develops this argument through a close reading of Rousseau's most substantial work on education, Emile: Or, On Education. Laverty elucidates Rousseau's philosophy of communication, beginning with his taxonomy of the three voices—articulate, melodic, and accentuated—illustrating the ways in which they both enhance and obfuscate understanding. Next, Laverty provides (...) an account of Rousseau's philosophical psychology, with specific reference to amour-propre and amour de soi. Listening plays a central role in Rousseau's philosophy of communication, Laverty maintains, because it is in the act of listening that humans fulfill, or fail to fulfill, the imperative that we seek to understand others. (shrink)

The article engages with the protagonist of The Secret Gospel of Mary Magdalene by Michèle Roberts, first published in 1984 as The Wild Girl. Filipczak discusses scholarly publications that analyze the role of Mary Magdalene, and redeem her from the sexist bias which reduced her to a repentant whore despite the lack of evidence for this in the Gospels. The very same analyses demonstrate that the role of Mary Magdalene as Christ’s first apostle silenced by patriarchal tradition was unique. While (...) Roberts draws on the composite character of Mary Magdalene embedded in the traditional association between women, sexuality and sin, she also moves far beyond this, by reclaiming the female imaginary as an important part of human connection to the divine. At the same time, Roberts recovers the conjunction between sexuality and spirituality by framing the relationship of Christ and Mary Magdalene with The Song of Songs, which provides the abject saint from Catholic tradition with an entirely different legacy of autonomy and expression of female desire, be it sexual, maternal or spiritual. The intertext connected with The Song of Songs runs consistently through The Secret Gospel of Mary Magdalene. This, in turn, sensitizes the readers to the traces of the Song in the Gospels, which never quote from it, but they rely heavily on the association between Christ and the Bridegroom, while John 20 shows the encounter between the risen Christ and Mary Magdalene in the garden whose imagery is strongly suggestive of the nuptial meeting in The Song of Songs. (shrink)

In 1942, the recently bereaved Manu Gandhi arrived in Sevagram ashram, Wardha, to serve the aged Mahatma and his ailing wife Kasturba. In 1943, she was called to Poona, where the Mahatma and his as...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Seventh International Buddhist-Christian Conference:"Hear the Cries of the World"Darnise C. MartinThe SBCS Seventh International Conference honoring the ongoing Buddhist-Christian dialogue was hosted by Loyola Marymount University, June 3–8, 2005. The campus provided a picturesque and temperate backdrop to conversations, workshops, worship experiences, musical performances, and academic sessions inspired by the theme, "Hear the Cries of the World." This focus shaped our time together as we discussed issues, both (...) old and new, that continue to polarize our world and ways in which we might heal and grow into more holistic ways of being.Loyola Marymount University was pleased to welcome more than 120 participants from close to home and around the world. In addition to representation from many parts of the United States, we also had guests from Japan, Belgium, Germany, Korea, and Sweden. With such a diverse group having a range of needs and concerns, I was heartened to receive positive feedback from all of our attendees, who expressed their satisfaction with the programming and events as well as the general logistics, organization, and staff accessibility throughout the conference.The conference got underway with bittersweet opening ceremonies. We began with words of welcome to our international group, as well as expressions of sadness at the loss of David Chappell, founding member of the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies. David's memory was lifted up in the presence of his family, dear friends, and colleagues. The Society will carry on his work of dialogue, healing, and reconciliation.The conference had many highlights. One of the most notable features of the conference was the visually and musically stunning dance performance by Viji Prakash, [End Page 185] acclaimed international choreographer and dancer. Her dance troupe, Shakti Dance Company, performed "From Prince to Buddha: A Journey to Enlightenment," an energetic production based on the life of the Buddha. The audience was thoroughly enchanted and entertained by this performance.The academic sessions offered many and varied expressions of the theme, "Hear the Cries of the World." Scholars, activists, and clergy came together to present papers and personal experiences around issues of ecological healing, prison ministry, youth outreach, women's responses to poverty and injustice, as well as the traditional figures of compassion, the Virgin Mary, Kuan Yin, and the way of the Bodhisattva.In particular, our group was intensely moved through an evening presentation on prison ministry presented by two people working intimately in the area of bringing compassion to this field. One presenter was Fleet Maull, founder of the Prison Dharma Network and the National Prison Hospice Association, who has been in the prison system as an inmate himself. He shared the experiences that led to his incarceration as well as the dehumanizing ways in which people are treated as inmates. He spoke of meditation as a tool by which prisoners may develop awareness and regain their humanity, even if for only brief moments. These moments can maintain hope for people who otherwise would have none. Maull, who was ordained a Buddhist priest while in prison, began a ministry to provide hospice care to terminally ill inmates, a ministry that has continued after his release through a growing network of participating prisons.The second presenter, Beth Ross of First African Methodist Episcopal (FAME) Church in Los Angeles, also discussed her work as part of the church's prison ministry outreach. Ross spoke about ministering not only to the person in prison, but also to the family of the inmate. Each has particular needs. The church has responded to prisoners' needs to not feel abandoned and isolated by instituting a letter-writing campaign. She said this helps people stay connected to a community and begin to heal. The church also provides re-entry support as prisoners are released and need to find housing and employment. Ross advocates for these former inmates needing a second chance. Without help, she notes, they are destined to commit further crimes against society and return to prison. FAME hopes to be a beacon of hope to these former prisoners.This was a powerful session for everyone. Speaking for myself, I had often thought about how society permanently demonizes former inmates. What chance do... (shrink)

Pamela had, throughout her life, an ambivalent relationship with the church. She wanted her work to make a difference to it and she was committed to being a feminist philosopher of religion. There are many recurrent themes in her work that clearly relate to her background in the church, and particularly in the Lutheran church of her upbringing. Her challenge to the patriarchy of what she called “hyper-traditional” Christianity is clear, but also her critique of some forms of forgiveness and (...) her search for new understandings of love and vulnerability. Her work presents significant challenges to the church, but does not abandon it, instead offering new ways of connecting with some of its most profound and important teachings and themes. Her work encourages us women in the church to value our own life experience as a source of knowledge, to re-frame our vulnerabilities and to find love in ways that offer freedom and hope. Pamela saw her work as her own contribution to the community of the church. It remains important that her voice, even and especially with its “speaker vulnerability,” is heard in that place. (shrink)

In 'You and She*' (ANALYSIS 51.3, June 1991) C.J.F. Williams notes the importance of reflexive pronouns in attributions of propositional attitudes, and claims to improve upon an earlier account of Hector-Neri Castaneda's in [1]. However, to the extent which his remarks are accurate, they reveal nothing that Castaneda hasn't already said, while insofar as they are new, they obliterate distinctions vital to Castaneda's theory. Castaneda called these pronouns quasi-indicators and noted that they function as linguistic devices used for attributing indexical (...) reference to others. For example, in hearing Arthur say 'I am wise' we would report his claim in English with, (1) Arthur thinks that he himself is wise. where 'he himself' is a quasi-indicator used to attribute to Arthur reference to himself qua self -- an expression that Castaneda abbreviated with 'he*.' Note that (1) is quite different from, (2) Arthur thinks that I am wise for 'I', functioning here as an indexical term, represents only the speaker's reference. Nor can (1) be identified with, (3) Arthur thinks that Arthur is wise. for this fails to represent the indexical character of Arthur's thought. Thus, (3) falls short of the informational content of (1). Moreover, as Williams, echoing Castaneda, points out, Arthur might not know that he himself is Arthur, or that he is named 'Arthur.' Hence, (3) might be false even if (1) is true. Williams observes that 'she' can also be used in oratio obliqua to report an indexical 1 usage, e.g., in (4) Arthur told Mary that she ought to talk to Shirley Makepeace's.. (shrink)

In this article, we will consider how far we might be said to be active in forming our beliefs; in particular, we will ask to what extent we can be said to be free in believing what we want to believe. It is clear that we ought to believe only what is really so, at least in so far as it lies in our power to determine this, but reflection shows that, regrettably, we do not confine our beliefs to what (...) we have evidence for, nor do we always believe in accordance with the evidence we do have. So it is natural to conclude that non-intellectual factors may be at work here; such, at least, was the view of Descartes, who attributed error to the influence of our will in leading us to assent to judgments which go beyond the evidence presented by our infallible intellect. This view has some initial plausibility when we think of cases in which emotional considerations lead people to take up and genuinely believe things they have no evidence for, but it is not a view which has received much support from modern philosophers. So, in Part 1 we will look at criticisms levelled against Descartes' view by J. L. Evans, and in Part 2 we will see how far Descartes can be defended. Our conclusions here will lead us to give in Part 3 a general account of the influence of the will in beliefs. We will suggest that we are always responsible for our explicit beliefs, even though it is not true that we can simply believe what we like. Thus we will reject the idea that a man can consciously know something, and at the same time, by will power, believe the opposite. Belief is not then totally free, but we will argue that people do sometimes form beliefs which go against what they should and could believe, and that this can in a way be put down to the influence of the will. Finally we will consider some of the ways in which it is possible to influence our beliefs by willed acts over a long period of time, though this is not the way that we clami that the will might be said to play a part in every judgment that we make. (shrink)

This is Oh, the Places You'll Never Go-the ultimate hilarious, cynical, but absolutely realistic view of a college graduate's future. And what he or she can or can't do about it. "This commencement address will never be given, because graduation speakers are supposed to offer encouragement and inspiration. That's not what you need. You need a warning." So begins Carl Hiaasen's attempt to prepare young men and women for their future. And who better to warn them about their precarious paths (...) forward than Carl Hiaasen' The answer, after reading Assume the Worst, is: Nobody. And who better to illustrate-and with those illustrations, expand upon and cement Hiaasen's cynical point of view-than Roz Chast, best-selling authorllustrator and National Book Award winner' The answer again is easy: Nobody. Following the format of Anna Quindlen's commencement address (Being Perfect) and George Saunders's commencement address (Congratulations, by the way), the collaboration of Hiaasen and Chast might look typical from the outside, but inside it is anything but. This book is bound to be a classic, sold year after year come graduation time. Although it's also a good gift for anyone starting a job, getting married, or recently released from prison. Because it is not just funny. It is, in its own Hiaasen way, extremely wise and even hopeful. Well, it might not be full of hope, but there are certainly enough slivers of the stuff in there to more than keep us all going. (shrink)

ABSTRACT Popper's attitude to traditions is fundamentally rationalistic. He analyses traditions, along with other institutions and practices, in terms of their efficiency in promoting goals which can be specified independently of the traditions themselves. Hayek, by contrast, looks at traditions in terms of their contributions to the survival of the culture in which they are embedded, something whose evaluation may be opaque even to people within the culture. Both these approaches are flawed compared to Oakeshott's insistence that traditions are not (...) goal‐oriented, and that goals cannot be specified independently of agents’forms of life. Oakeshott's views constitute a via media between Popperian rationalism and Hayekian anti‐rationalism. (shrink)

Even today, apologists for modernist and post-modernist architecture frequently appeal to what, following Sir Karl Popper, I will call historicist arguments. Such arguments have a particular poignancy when they are used to justify the replacement of some familiar part of an ancient city with some intentionally untraditional structure; as, for example, when a familiar nineteenth century block of offices in a prime city site is swept away to make room for something supposedly more fitting to the ‘new millennium’, a ‘twentieth (...) century contribution to monumental architecture’, a building ‘of substantial importance to the present age’. Similarly, those architects or consumers of architecture who fail to conform to whatever stylistic demands the age is held to demand are marginalized in many supposedly serious discussions of architecture, and made to feel out of place and out of time. (shrink)

We spent a wonderful morning in the van Gogh gallery in Amsterdam. Of course we knew all the paintings, we had seen them all in reproduction, and the building was more like a bank vault than a setting for art. But what art! At first sight how small and uniform the paintings were in reality: yet every blade of grass, every flower in a field, every olive tree, every vibration in the sky, every patch of colour, every brush stroke, testified (...) to life and to a life vibrating beneath the surface form. In a true sense, an artist inspired, an artist breaking convention, artistic and social, but nevertheless an artist transforming life with a vision of the enhancement of life, a vision inviting each one of us to look again at the natural forms around us, to feel the spirit or the gods dwelling in them, a vision of enchantment and of humanity in a disenchanted world. Art—painting—can, then, be a source of spiritual nourishment as Kant and Schiller and Ruskin in their different ways thought it should be. (shrink)

This book is available either individually, or as part of the specially-priced Arguments of the Philosphers Collection.

Anthony O'Hear; VI*—Guilt and Shame as Moral Concepts, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 77, Issue 1, 1 June 1977, Pages 73–86, https://doi.org/10.

In this controversial new book O'Hear takes a stand against the fashion for explaining human behavior in terms of evolution. He contends that while the theory of evolution is successful in explaining the development of the natural world in general, it is of limited value when applied to the human world. Because of our reflectiveness and our rationality we take on goals and ideals which cannot be justified in terms of survival-promotion or reproductive advantage. O'Hear examines the nature of human (...) self-consciousness, and argues that evolutionary theory cannot give a satisfactory account of such distinctive facets of human life as the quest for knowledge, moral sense, and the appreciation of beauty; in these we transcend our biological origins. It is our rationality that allows each of us to go beyond not only our biological but also our cultural inheritance: as the author says in the Preface, "we are prisoners neither of our genes nor of the ideas we encounter as we each make our personal and individual way through life.". (shrink)

This book is a balanced and up-to-date introduction to the philosophy of science. It covers all the main topics in the area, as well as introducing the student to the moral and social reality of science. The author's style is free from jargon, and although he makes use of scientific examples, these should be intelligible to those without much scientific background. At the same time the questions he raises are not merely abstract, so the book will be of interest and (...) concern to scientists as well as philosophers.The author discusses the growth of knowledge of science, the status of scientific theories and their relationship to observational data, the extent to which scientific theories rest on unprovable paradigms, and the nature of scientific explanations. In later chapters he considers probability, scientific reductionism, the relationship between science and technology, and the relationship between scientific and other values. (shrink)

ABSTRACT Popper's attitude to traditions is fundamentally rationalistic. He analyses traditions, along with other institutions and practices, in terms of their efficiency in promoting goals which can be specified independently of the traditions themselves. Hayek, by contrast, looks at traditions in terms of their contributions to the survival of the culture in which they are embedded, something whose evaluation may be opaque even to people within the culture. Both these approaches are flawed compared to Oakeshott's insistence that traditions are not (...) goal‐oriented, and that goals cannot be specified independently of agents’forms of life. Oakeshott's views constitute a via media between Popperian rationalism and Hayekian anti‐rationalism. (shrink)

Anthony O'Hear; Academic Freedom and the University, Journal of Philosophy of Education, Volume 22, Issue 1, 30 May 2006, Pages 13–21, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.

In this book Anthony O’Hear examines the reasons that are given for religious faith. His approach is firmly within the classical tradition of natural theology, but an underlying theme is the differences between the personal Creator of the Bible or the Koran and a God conceived of as the indeterminate ground of everything determinate. Drawing on several religious traditions and on the resources of contemporary philosophy, specific chapters analyse the nature of religious faith and of religious experience. They examine connections (...) between religion and morality, and religion and human knowledge – the cosmological, teleological and ontological arguments, process thought, and the problem that evil presents for religion. The final chapter returns to the inherently dogmatic nature of religious faith and concludes that rational people should look beyond religion for the fulfilment of their spiritual needs. (shrink)

We spent a wonderful morning in the van Gogh gallery in Amsterdam. Of course we knew all the paintings, we had seen them all in reproduction, and the building was more like a bank vault than a setting for art. But what art! At first sight how small and uniform the paintings were in reality: yet every blade of grass, every flower in a field, every olive tree, every vibration in the sky, every patch of colour, every brush stroke, testified (...) to life and to a life vibrating beneath the surface form. In a true sense, an artist inspired, an artist breaking convention, artistic and social, but nevertheless an artist transforming life with a vision of the enhancement of life, a vision inviting each one of us to look again at the natural forms around us, to feel the spirit or the gods dwelling in them, a vision of enchantment and of humanity in a disenchanted world. Art—painting—can, then, be a source of spiritual nourishment as Kant and Schiller and Ruskin in their different ways thought it should be. (shrink)

Even today, apologists for modernist and post-modernist architecture frequently appeal to what, following Sir Karl Popper, I will call historicist arguments. Such arguments have a particular poignancy when they are used to justify the replacement of some familiar part of an ancient city with some intentionally untraditional structure; as, for example, when a familiar nineteenth century block of offices in a prime city site is swept away to make room for something supposedly more fitting to the ‘new millennium’, a ‘twentieth (...) century contribution to monumental architecture’, a building ‘of substantial importance to the present age’. Similarly, those architects or consumers of architecture who fail to conform to whatever stylistic demands the age is held to demand are marginalized in many supposedly serious discussions of architecture, and made to feel out of place and out of time. (shrink)

Original essays by leading philosophers on topics of logic, thought and language.