Demonstrates that the divisions between analytic and continental philosophy are being replaced by a transcontinental desire to address common problems in a common idiom.

The interpretation string -- The psychosis string -- The purloined string -- The temporality string.

The attack on the US Capitol on 6 January 2021 was a tragic illustration of the existential threat that the viral spread of disinformation poses in the age of social media and twenty-four-hour news. From climate change denialism to the frenzied conspiracy theories and racist mythologies that fuel antidemocratic white nationalist movements in the United States and abroad, What Would Cervantes Do? is a lucid meditation on the key role the humanities must play in dissecting and combatting all forms of (...) disinformation. David Castillo and William Egginton travel back to the early modern period, the first age of inflationary media, in search of historically tested strategies to overcome disinformation and shed light on our post-truth market. Through a series of critical conversations between cultural icons of the twenty-first century and those of the Spanish Golden Age, What Would Cervantes Do? provides a tour-de-force commentary on current politics and popular culture. Offering a diverse range of Cervantist comparative readings of contemporary cultural texts – movies, television shows, and infotainment – alongside ideas and issues from literary and cultural texts of early modern Spain, Castillo and Egginton present a new way of unpacking the logic of contemporary media. What Would Cervantes Do? is an urgent and timely self-help manual for literary scholars and humanists of all stripes, and a powerful toolkit for reality literacy. (shrink)

_Lisa Block de Behar explores the trope of quotation in the works of Jorge Luis Borges._.

Argues that the experience of modernity is fundamentally spatial rather than subjective.

William Egginton argues that the notion of the ethical cannot be understood outside of its relation to perversity—that is, the impulse to do what one knows and feels is wrong. The allure of the perverse, moreover, should not be understood as merely the necessary obverse of ethically motivated behavior; rather, from the perspective of a psychoanalytic understanding of the ethical, the two drives are structurally identical. This discovery leads the author to engagements with deconstructive thought and with contemporary gender theory. (...) In the first, he shows that the insistent resurgence of the ethical fault-line inevitably drives even the most stalwart atheism to a theological moment. In the second, he argues that while “female philosophy” has successfully repudiated the subject-centered exceptionalism of “male philosophy,” it is precisely to the extent that it is understood to offer a kind of release from the perversity of ethics that it must fail as ethical utterances. (shrink)

A monumental and riveting account of how a poet, a physicist, and a philosopher pursued truth to the very limits of human apprehension and revealed the fundamental nature of our place in the universe Spiraling in the wreckage of a failed love affair, Argentine poet Jorge Luis Borges channeled his devastation into his work, reassessing the slippery nature of our own identities and the way we perceive reality, ultimately securing his place in the literary pantheon. Doggedly fighting against the scientific (...) establishment for his controversial interpretation of quantum mechanics, German physicist Werner Heisenberg dared to accept the experimental evidence at face value, leading him to a principle that has been a guiding light for physicists ever since. Prussian philosopher Immanuel Kant, horrified by the possibility that all knowledge might rest on uncertain grounds, undertook to test the limits of reason, placing human understanding on a firmer footing than ever before. What these three thinkers shared, in addition to their uncommon intellect, was their skepticism-not only of the accepted wisdom of their culture, but also of their own reasoning. What set them apart was their willingness to submit their ideas to the same rigor they would bring to someone else's. In so doing, they made extraordinary leaps in answering some of the most enduring questions about the nature of reality-about the flow of time in human consciousness, about the origins and nature of the universe, but most importantly, about the possibility of coming to know reality as it is itself. In an era like ours, in which dogma of all kinds seems to rule the day, the story of these thinkers serves as a crucial reminder that maverick thinking demands submitting our intuitions and even our own deeply held beliefs to the cold light of reason. In their lives and work we recognize that the mysteries of our place in the world may always loom over us, not as a threat, but as a reminder of our humble humanity. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:On Dante, Hyperspheres, and the Curvature of the Medieval CosmosWilliam EggintonIn the course of his lectures on medieval literature at Oxford University in the 1950s C. S. Lewis would ask students to walk alone at night, gaze at the star-filled sky, and try to imagine how it might look to a walker in the Middle Ages. It would not likely have occurred to him that some forty years later (...) several astrophysicists would ask that their readers perform the same activity, at least figuratively—not, however, with the intention of experiencing medieval conceptions of the cosmos but rather in order to begin to imagine the shape of our own. One of the astrophysicists in question is Stanford Professor Emeritus Robert Osserman, whose 1995 book The Poetry of the Universe is an attempt to acquaint lay readers with what the most recent research suggests is the shape of the universe by leading them through a brief history of the mathematical and technological developments that made such boundary-breaking thought possible. Paradoxically, when it comes to trying to imagine that all-encompassing form which is derived from a four-dimensional mathematical model called a hypersphere, he turns not to ultra-modern computer-generated images nor to dry but technically accurate exegeses of mathematical formulae but rather to the verses of a fourteenth-century Italian poet, Dante Alighieri. His claim is that in the third canticle of the Divine Comedy, which details his ascent through the heavens, Dante describes the cosmos with astonishing precision as a hypersphere, exactly as modern physics has determined it to be.If the cosmology of the present makes use of Dante heuristically, however, it never asks the most obvious question: Why? Why does one need to go back to the fourteenth century for a poetic description of how the universe appears to modern science? Osserman assumes it to be a mere coincidence, and why should he not? What possible access would a thinker—a poet even—of the European Middle Ages have to the highest achievements of almost six centuries of subsequent thought? In answering this question, I am not proposing to naively interpret the past in our own image, claiming Dante to be a mathematical genius [End Page 195] before his time. I am, however, suggesting that there is an excellent explanation for why one must look to the fourteenth century for models of expression adequate to the challenges posed by nineteenth and twentieth-century advances in mathematics: namely, that in the course of the Scientific Revolution, wherein were laid the epistemological foundations for the discoveries of modern science, certain possibilities of thought and imagination were discarded, forgotten, and certain abilities were, if only temporarily, lost. The Middle Ages has long been painted as a period whose culture was hostile to free thought and new knowledge; perhaps it is now time to recognize that it was also a time in which phenomena could sustain mutually exclusive and contradictory explanations, when the battle between faith and science had not yet been conclusively won by either side, and when the efforts to bridge the stories they told could produce conceptual edifices whose mere possibility would be unthinkable only 200 years later. This essay is about one such conceptual edifice and how openness to its perspective allowed a poet to put into words what could not be imagined by his descendants, and what eludes us even today.The Shape of the Modern UniverseImagine that you are a completely flat creature, living happily in your two-dimensional world.1 As observers we are outside this world, and we can see you milling about with your flat friends, blissfully unaware of the uncharted regions one dimension away on either side of you. Now imagine that this plane is not flat—in the sense of rectilineal—as you might have created it in your mind, but rather is curved; in fact it is a sphere. Assuming that this sphere is large enough, there is no reason that you, an inhabitant of this surface, should be aware of its curvature. Even we, the three-dimensional observers, if close enough to the surface, would not recognize its curvature. One could conjecture, however... (shrink)

The somewhat deflating conclusion of Simon A. Gilson's meticulous examination of Dante's incorporation of the science of optics and theories of light is that the poet was considerably less well read than we have been giving him credit for.Gilson's book is divided into two parts: the first, dealing with the science of optics, contains four chapters; the second, dealing with theories of light, contains three. Each of these parts is devoted to debunking a tendency in Dante scholarship to attribute to (...) a particular scientific or philosophical movement a marked influence on his work. In the first part Gilson maintains that Dante's use of the science of optics does not—as others, most forcefully and influentially Alessandro Parronchi, have argued—rely specifically on knowledge of the authors of the perspectivae—detailed treatises on optics that placed the influence of light rays at the origin of terrestrial phenomena—that is, on such thinkers as Alhazen, Roger Bacon, and Robert Grosseteste. Rather, Gilson contends that Dante could easily have come by the requisite expertise concerning this science through contact with the more popular and widely known doctrines of such Arab interpreters of Aristotle as Avicenna and Averroës and the commentaries of Albert the Great and Thomas Aquinas. He demonstrates the plausibility of this contention by way of a comparative analysis of the doctrines of the perspectivists and the Arab interpreters. This analysis is followed by a chapter devoted to optics and vision in Dante's earlier poetry.The two following chapters cover, respectively, topics such as blinding, optical illusions, and visual error in Dante's Commedia and the themes of reflection, mirrors, and meteorological optics, also in the Commedia, a work that Gilson specifies as having nevertheless gone beyond the more limited sources of the earlier poetry. In the third chapter Gilson's analysis achieves a welcome degree of insight into the poet's originality: here Gilson shows how Dante incorporates the scientific knowledge of his day in order to establish a set of limits that circumscribe human action in the physical world but that must be overcome in the course of the pilgrim's journey through his imaginative world. Such moments provide a refreshing alternative to an otherwise rather positivistic view of scientific knowledge as a compendium of facts and sources one either has or has not read. One cannot help but think that researchers in the field of the history of science might be most interested in the imaginative contributions of a specifically poetic knowledge, especially in an age in which the distinction between “hard” and “soft” science was not accorded the kind of unquestioned respect it currently receives.In the second part Gilson, continuing his debunking analysis, argues that the scholarship on Dante and his use of theories of light has remained captivated by the notion of “the metaphysics of light.” This term, Gilson claims, has been used to unify and oversimplify a rather diverse group of doctrines concerning the nature of light and its relation to knowledge, vision, God, and being. Against the grain of the traditional critical trend, Gilson maintains that Dante's thought has nothing in common with the proper metaphysics of light of a Grosseteste—who identifies light as the primary element of being—and that Dante would have had relatively little contact with Neoplatonic theories of emanation. Again, according to Gilson, in applying the imagery of light to his poetic themes, Dante would have had readily available models in the popular theological light imagery of his time; his use of light in the description of the Empyrean is, Gilson states, perhaps the best example of Dante's relative independence from any limited set of sources.Whether Gilson's informative examination of Dante's relative dependence on sources should be understood as liberating the poet from the anxiety of scientific influence remains, however, an open question. Whatever the extent or depth of any enumeration of those sources, it is the moment of creation that astonishes. (shrink)