Throughout history, many scholars have offered up definitions of curiosity. These definitions range far and wide. Some attempt to amass all the elements of curiosity, systematize them, and propose a unified theory. Some characterize curiosity as a conceptual unit with two primary dimensions (e.g. epistemic and perceptual), as two distinct kinds of things (e.g. bona et mala curiositas), or as one side of a binary (e.g. curiosity vs. care). What is curiosity? Which characterization is most apt to curiosity itself and (...) which best illuminates its ethical and political stakes? In this essay, I argue that curiosity is best characterized modally. That is, it is best described through its modes rather than defined by its essence. To support this argument, I canvas the history of philosophy and identify three models of curiosity, which I name by their correlative literary figures: the busybody, the hunter, and the dancer. The curious person is repeatedly described as drawn to gossip, hunting down secrets and discoveries, and taking leaps of creative imagination. I develop an account of the unique kinesthetic signatures of each mode. I then close with ethical considerations, interrogating issues of responsibility relevant to each. In doing so, this chapter reimagines both curiosity itself and its role in our political ecology today. (shrink)

Every year, millions of students in the United States and around the world graduate from high school and college. Commencement speakers—often distilling the hopes of parents and four years of messaging from educators—tell graduates that they must do something grand, ambitious, or far-reaching. Change the world. Disrupt the status quo. Every problem in the world is your problem, awaiting your solutions. -/- This book is an antidote to that advice. It provides a clear-eyed assessment of three types of people who (...) tend to believe and promote a commencement speaker’s view of the world: the moralizer, who imposes unnecessary social costs by inappropriately enforcing morality; the busybody, who thinks the stranger and close friend merit equal shares of our benevolent attention; and the pure hearted, who equates acting with good intentions with just outcomes. The book also provides a bold defense of living an ordinary life by putting down roots, creating a good home, and living in solitude. A quiet, peaceful life can be generous and noble. It’s OK to mind your own business. (shrink)

Many liberal political philosophers hold that the state should not impose or even promote any particular conception of the good life or human flourishing. It should not, for instance, enact laws and policies designed to elevate citizens' tastes, to refine their sensibilities or to perfect their characters. Instead, the state should restrict itself to maintaining a fair framework of rights and opportunities within which all citizens can pursue their own beliefs about what constitutes a good life. Against this backdrop, Collis (...) Tahzib develops a version of perfectionist political philosophy. Whereas previous perfectionists have argued that the promotion of flourishing ways of life is permissible or legitimate, Tahzib casts perfectionism as a doctrine of justice. On this view, the implementation of laws and policies designed to promote sound ideals of the good life--ideals such as moral, intellectual and artistic excellence--is not merely a legitimate complement to justice but an essential constituent of justice. Over the years, perfectionism has faced various objections: that it is premised on values and judgements that are controversial within modern pluralistic societies; that it is unduly restrictive of freedom or autonomy; that it treats citizens as if they are children, unable to run their own lives; that it expresses the meddlesome mentality of a village busybody; that it mistakenly assumes that there are objective truths about human flourishing; and that it risks the abuse of power by incompetent, overzealous or corrupt state officials. These ideas represent some of the deepest, most vibrant and most powerful strains in liberal thought. In defending perfectionism against these charges, the arguments in A Perfectionist Theory of Justice make a novel and important contribution to longstanding debates about the philosophical foundations of liberalism. (shrink)

Curious about something? Google it. Look at it. Ask a question. But is curiosity simply information seeking? According to this exhilarating, genre-bending book, what’s left out of the conventional understanding of curiosity are the wandering tracks, the weaving concepts, the knitting of ideas, and the thatching of knowledge systems—the networks, the relations between ideas and between people. Curiosity, say Perry Zurn and Dani Bassett, is a practice of connection: it connects ideas into networks of knowledge, and it connects knowers themselves, (...) both to the knowledge they seek and to each other. -/- Zurn and Bassett—identical twins who write that their book “represents the thought of one mind and two bodies”—harness their respective expertise in the humanities and the sciences to get irrepressibly curious about curiosity. Traipsing across literatures of antiquity and medieval science, Victorian poetry and nature essays, as well as work by writers from a variety of marginalized communities, they trace a multitudinous curiosity. They identify three styles of curiosity—the busybody, who collects stories, creating loose knowledge network; the hunter, who hunts down secrets or discoveries, creating tight networks; and the dancer, who takes leaps of creative imagination, creating loopy ones. Investigating what happens in a curious brain, they offer an accessible account of the network neuroscience of curiosity. And they sketch out a new kind of curiosity-centric and inclusive education that embraces everyone’s curiosity. The book performs the very curiosity that it describes, inviting readers to participate—to be curious with the book and not simply about it. (shrink)

Few twentieth century novelists have been subjected to as exhaustive and self-confident interpretations of the ultimate meaning of their work as was Franz Kafka. Veritable regiments of men of letters, psychoanalysts, sociologists, philosophers, and just plain busybodies followed the urge to formulate theories on Kafka’s concern with the alienation of Western man. Personal friends like Max Brod, dramatizers of the loveless world of The Trial, André Gide and Jean-Louis Barrault, analyzers of parental stunting of the child psyche like Josef (...) Rattner, observers of Kafka’s Austro-Bohemian world like Pavel Eisner and Peter Demetz, investigators of traditional themes in Kafka’s fiction—notably of their Hebraic and Chasidic ingredients—like André Nemeth and Hartmut Binder, hunters of allegorical and parabolic semantics like Norbert Fuerst and Clements Heselhaus, all seem to share one common trait in their vastly differing approaches: a singular disrespect for the frequent hints made by the author himself as to his ultimate objectives. (shrink)

We scholars of the Medieval Academy “do” history or “do” studies of art, philosophy, and literature, as a common verb has it. And inelegant as it is, I am rather drawn to the vague, busybody little word. It has the advantage of reminding us of our participation with the dead. We assemble our conclusions from our data and say: here is the significant pattern, here is the principle that underlay the series of actions or thoughts I have analyzed. But we (...) choose the data. We draw the conclusions. We choose to speak. And this choice involves us in responsibilities, as we all are aware. We need to ask ourselves: to whom are we speaking? But let me put that aside for the present. We have another, overriding responsibility. The dead have no voice but ours. (shrink)

For its first issue in 2023, Journalism and Communication Monographs published Stephen Bates’s research, titled “Busybodies With Time on Their Hands: Accountability, Research, and Resistance.” The...