C.S. Peirce's "A Neglected Argument for the Reality of God" [NA] has always baffled its readers. Its publishing editor needed to ask, "[W]hat, then, precisely, is your neglected argument?", and EP 2's editors observe that "[t]his is one of Peirce's most enigmatic writings". First-time readers will likely concur with the underwhelmed theologian who told Michael Raposa that NA "ought to remain neglected". Early Peirce scholars did neglect the essay, regarding it as an "anomalous sideshow to Peirce's more important concern with (...) the logic and methodology of science". No longer ignored, NA continues to bewilder: "N.... (shrink)

One legacy of post-Enlightenment dualism in the universe of academic discourse is the presence of two approached to notions of duality championed by two differing camps. One camp might arbitrarily be called debunkers; the other might be labeled rationalists. The strategies of the camps are conditioned by traditional notions of inside and outside. Debunkers consider themselves outsiders, beyond a deceptive show filled with tricky mirrors. Rationalists, by contrast, spend a great deal of time among mirrors, listening to explanations from the (...) overseers, attempting to absorb sideshow language, hoping to provide acceptable analytical accounts. If debunkers are intent on discovering generative and, presumably, hidden ideological inscriptions of a given discourse—its situation on what Amiri Baraka calls the “real side” of economic exchange and world exploitative power—rationalists are concerned to study discursive products, to decode or explain them according to forms and formulas that claim to avoid general views or judgments of ideology. Differentiating the camps also is what might be called a thermal gradient: the heat of the debunker’s passion is palpable. It is unnecessary to command him, in the manner of the invisible man’s tormentor, to “Get hot, boy! Get hot!” Rationalists, by contrast, do not radiate. They appear to have nothing personal at stake and remain coolly instructive and intelligently unflappable in their analyses.This tale of an Enlightenment legacy, as I have told it, contrasts a debunking body and rationalist soul. As I have suggested in my opening sentence, however, what is at issue is not so much two actual and substantially distinctive camps as two metonyms for dual approaches to a common subject—namely, notions of duality. My claim is that the Enlightenment reflexivity of academic discourse, devoted to, say, “the Other” and conceived in dualistic terms of self-and-other, expresses itself as an opposition. Thos whom I have called debunkers gladly accept the Other’s sovereignty as a bodily and aboriginal donnée; rationalists work to discover the dynamics of “othering” engaged in by a self-indulgent Western soul. The difficulty of producing usefully analytical or political results for either camp is occasioned by their joint situation within a post-Enlightenment field. Houston A. Baker, Jr. is the Albert M. Greenfield Professor of Human Relations at the University of Pennsylvania. He is a poet whose recent volume Blues Journeys Home appeared in 1985. He is also the author of a number of studies of Afro-American literature and culture, including the forthcoming Modernism and the Harlem Renaissance. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Conceiving People: Genetic Knowledge and the Ethics of Sperm and Egg Donation by Daniel GrollMelissa MoschellaGROLL, Daniel. Conceiving People: Genetic Knowledge and the Ethics of Sperm and Egg Donation. New York: Oxford University Press, 2021. 256 pp. Cloth, $74.00In Conceiving People, Daniel Groll argues that, generally speaking, those intending to conceive with the help of donor gametes have a moral obligation to use an open donor rather than (...) an anonymous one. This obligation is grounded on the likelihood that their children will have a significant future interest in acquiring genetic knowledge, defined as "knowledge of who one's genetic progenitors are." Groll labels this view the significant interest view, which he argues for largely on empirical grounds.Before beginning his defense of the significant interest view, Groll dedicates chapter 2 to arguing that parents who conceive with the help of donor gametes should not keep this a secret from their children. His position on this point reflects the current consensus on the subject, but he offers a novel argument for it, based on the claim that keeping "the secret" in itself harms the parent–child relationship by inherently compromising the intimacy proper to that relationship.Chapter 3 presents the significant interest view in greater detail, distinguishing it from two other approaches: (1) the "Profound Prudential Good view," taken from the work of David Velleman, according to which "genetic knowledge is a profound prudential good and people who lack it will have tremendous trouble figuring out who they are," and (2) the view that "people have a right to genetic knowledge." Unlike these competing approaches, Groll's view "does not directly depend on claims about the value of genetic knowledge" but is based primarily on the fact that "many donor-conceived people are subjectively interested in having genetic knowledge," combined with the claim that parents have an obligation to promote their children's well-being by satisfying their worthwhile significant subjective interests. Because Groll's argument depends on the worth and significance of genetic knowledge, it is vulnerable to what he calls the "sideshow objection"—that is, that the significant interest view is just a sideshow, and the worth of genetic knowledge is what actually does the important normative work. At the same time, Groll's view that the interest in genetic knowledge is worthwhile and significant also leaves him open to the "bionormativity objection," according to which the interest in genetic knowledge "is morally problematic in virtue of evincing and entrenching a kind of bionormative prejudice" that sees the biological family as a normative ideal. [End Page 141]Responding to these two objections is the task of chapters 4 and 5. Chapter 4 argues that genetic knowledge is an objective but "prudentially optional good," meaning that "its value is not fungible, but a life that lacks it is not thereby impoverished." This distinguishes Groll's view from the profound prudential good view, which he characterizes as a form of "genetic chauvinism." Groll argues that genetic knowledge is valuable because it can provide insight into personal identity by answering questions about how I came to be and who I am like, but that the genetic knowledge is not the only or best way to answer these questions (thus explaining why it is optional, and why the significant interest view is not just a sideshow).Chapter 5 addresses the "bionormativity objection," which includes both "heteronormativity" (privileging families headed by a mother and father) and "biogenetic normativity" (privileging genetically related families). Groll ultimately responds to this objection by arguing that, even if (as Groll believes) our current society overemphasizes the importance of genetic relationships, "the interest in genetic knowledge is rationally intelligible quite apart from the bionormative social milieu that surrounds it."Chapters 6 through 8 present the implications of the preceding argument. Chapter 6 argues that the reasons to use an open donor are generally conclusive, because most reasons parents might have to use an anonymous donor do not outweigh the child's significant interest in obtaining genetic knowledge. Chapter 7 considers the responsibilities of gamete donors, arguing that gamete donation is not morally objectionable because it is permissible for donors to transfer prospective parenthood responsibilities... (shrink)

Karl Marx's Capital is critique of the capitalistically organised social relations of reproduction. It recognises economic categories as perverted social categories and asks about the manner in which human social practice manifests itself in the form of independent economic categories and laws that unfold as if governed by invisible principles. He says, the capitalist relations are beyond human control and he argues that the indi-viduals act under economic compulsion and are controlled by the products of their own labour. His critique (...) says, in the capitalist social relations the individuals act as personification of economic categories. The immense wealth of capitalist society is abstract, it appears in the form of money as more money. In these wealth-relations, time is money, the satisfaction of human needs a mere sideshow. Yet, the economic categories are purely social forms. Critique of political economy is social critique of economic inversion, it is about the sheer unrest of live as the hidden misery of economic things. (shrink)

Does leftist political thought have a future? American liberalism is being marginalized, European socialism is exhausted, and cultural radicalism has become little more than a sideshow. Contributors to The Left in Search of a Center probe questions of how political community can be imagined and constituted in the contemporary world. Together, they make it apparent that the still-emerging idea of political community is anchored in the pluralistic and cross-cultural nature of late twentieth-century Western societies.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Call to Wonder reimagining disabilityRosemarie Garland-ThomsonComing to WonderI came to wonder last summer on a research visit to the Ringling Brothers Museum in Sarasota, Florida. Scattered with garish posters and peculiar objects, the museum’s circus archive was a cabinet of curiosities documenting a lost world of the extraordinary. Circuses, sideshows, and early museums were entertainment venues that offered good jobs to people with disabilities at a time (...) well before disability rights or accessible workplaces integrated people with disabilities into public life. At the Circus Museum, I came to understand more fully that many of the people on the freakshow’s broadsides are my ancestors, people with rare congenital disabilities that gave them uncommon appearances and occasioned for them some creativity in carrying out the tasks of daily living.That muggy summer day in Sarasota, the archivist opened for us one by one the thin but wide drawers of the filing cabinets designed to store rare and valuable documents. As each assemblage of posters revealed its strange contents, I came to recognize a lost community of ancient ancestors. All manner of human variation in extravagant shapes, sizes, and forms peered out of the drawers, beckoning our attention and igniting our wonder. The dwarf musicians, legless cyclists, exotic albinos, fat ladies, hermaphrodites, and giants who entertained and charmed circus audiences then have today been transformed into people with disabilities. Civil rights legislation such as the Americans with Disabilities Act, an [End Page 483] accessible designed and built public environment, and broad awareness of disability inclusion offer these unusual people opportunities for education and wider employment opportunities today. Many of my friends and colleagues resemble these circus celebrities and performers. All of us now go about our lives quite differently from these lost ancestors. We have lives, work, families, communities, and environments that are much more compatible with our ways of being. Nonetheless, my shudder of sympathetic recognition witnesses our congruence, despite the decades and centuries that separate us from them. As I move along the unsettling archive they have left me, my vanished ancestors stare back at me from the scrapbooks, circus posters, tattered photos, and ancient prints tucked into the drawers and cabinets along our tour. Their steady returning gaze demands my response. They pull from me an unsettling merger of awe and tenderness, familiarity and strangeness. They have awakened in me the ancient affect of wonder.For me, the most compelling occupant of these archival coffins was the “The Little Man of Nuremberg,” the armless calligrapher, Matthias Buchinger (Figure 1). This prodigy of ornate micrography gazed frankly back at me with dignified contemplation, inviting me into his elaborate realm of the miniature (see Schjeldahl 2016). His diminutive hands peeked out of the velvet cuffs, startling me with their familiarity to my own unusual arms and hands. Famous during his lifetime (1674–1739) as “The Greatest Living German,” Buchinger was a calligrapher, artist, performer, and entrepreneur who was an early exemplar of a genre of legless and armless disabled performers who inspired wonder and awe in their audiences and communities.1 Buchinger’s 1724 engraving offers his viewers an early 18th-century resume or social media page. The illustration’s loquacious caption describes, “the wonderful Little Man of about 29. Inches high, born without Hands, Feet, or Thighs, June the 2, 1674. In Germany.” The “last of nine Children,” he goes on to verify his own reproductive robustness by detailing that he “has been married four times, and has had issue Eleven children, one by his first Wife, three by his second, six by his third, and one by his present Wife.”Amazement apparently requires detail for its realization. His self-portrait engraving continues to variously solicit our wonder. “This little Man performs such Wonders as had never been done by any; but Himself,” he assures us. These wonders include playing various instruments, including the flute, bagpipe, dulcimer, and trumpet. Moreover, he designs and makes musical instruments and draws coats of arms and pictures of life “with Pen.” His astonishing feats include playing cards and dice, performing tricks with “Cups and Balls, Corn, and Live Birds,” playing at “Skittles or Nine Pens to... (shrink)

In considering the historical treatment of Aboriginal Australians this paper will discuss the different spaces operating in Western Australia’s South West in the late 1920s and the government policies that fed into them. These are the Moore River Native Settlement that is located some 100 km north of Perth and White City, a carnival sideshow located at the bottom of William Street on the banks of the Swan River in Perth. The 1905 Aborigines Act and a provision within that act (...) known as the Proclamation of the Prohibited Area of Perth will be discussed. This will be done by comparing the ways that White City was seen by the government in the 1920s and how in recent years Northbridge has been regulated and discursively constructed. The intent is to look at how Aboriginal people have been treated over time and consider the social, historical and political forces that have shaped that construction. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Roadmap Needed:How to Help Parents Navigate the Worst Day of Their LivesCheryl KilpatrickOn January 14, 2010, our 3–year–old daughter, Maggie, was rushed to an emergency room at a satellite medical center. I am an occupational therapist and was actually scheduled to work at a hospital that day. I was wearing my purple scrubs. Maggie had been showing “strange” symptoms all week that I thought might be a sign that (...) she was getting a cold or the flu. She had been extremely tired, having morning headaches and ataxia (balance problems). When I dropped Maggie off at preschool the morning of January 14, 2010 she began to have trouble using her left arm. The teacher noticed that her smile was crooked. I did a quick neurological assessment and saw that her [End Page E9] left arm was much weaker than her right arm. I thought to myself, “My kid looks as if she is having a stroke. But she is only 3–years–old. This doesn’t make any sense.” The teacher gave me a look as if to say, “Are you going to take Maggie to the hospital or am I going to have to do it?” I just stood there. I suppose I was in the first stages of shock. I turned to the teacher and said, “We are going to the hospital.”As we walked toward the ER admissions desk I was surprised to see that we were the only people in the waiting area. It didn’t take long before we were called into the examination room. The ER doctor did a neurological assessment on Maggie like I had done only 30 minutes earlier and said that a CAT scan was needed. He thought that we would most likely be transferred to a local children’s hospital. The CAT scan revealed that Maggie had a large mass in her thalamus. I just looked at the ER doctor and said, “Just tell me what I need to do and I will do it.” No tears, no screams, no emotion. I just went into “mommy mode” and made sure that my child felt safe every step of the way. My husband was on his way home from a business trip when I called to tell him the news. He had no idea what he would find when he finally got to us.As expected, we were transported by ambulance to the local children’s hospital. I remember sitting in the front seat with the driver and feeling like this was all a dream. It was all very surreal. Maggie calmly chatted with the EMS personnel in the back of the ambulance as if nothing was happening. I had no idea how our lives would change once we reached the hospital. This ride to the hospital began our journey into uncharted territory. Nothing in my life had prepared me for what was about to happen.We arrived at the children’s hospital around 11:00 a.m. As we walked into ER department, I could feel the eyes of the ER staff following us. I turned to look at them and they smiled. The look on their faces told me that something was very wrong with my daughter. I felt like we were a sideshow at the carnival. I hated those looks. I didn’t want their smiles. I wanted to know what was happening. I wanted information.My husband arrived about an hour after our arrival. He walked into the room and found his little girl looking very spacey and unable to walk to him without falling. When Maggie and I stepped out into the hallway to find the restroom, I turned to look back into the room and saw my husband with his face in his hands. He was crying. I was not. I was still in “mommy mode” or just plain shock. I knew that my daughter was not well. But then again, neither was I. I was not crying. I was not screaming. I was numb. What I needed was someone to take my “emotional pulse.”We waited patiently in that small room watching the hours pass by as each doctor came... (shrink)

Susan James, in her recent work Passion and Action: The Emotions in Seventeenth-Century Philosophy (Oxford: Clarendon 1997), prefaces her investigation of emotions in the seventeenth century with a series of remarks about the earlier career of the emotions, in particular their treatment in the Middle Ages. In brief, she takes the ‘new’ analyses of the passions put forward in the seventeenth century to be a philosophical sideshow to the main event: the dethronement of Aristotelian natural philosophy and metaphysics (22). She (...) describes the consequences for psychology as follows.. (shrink)

Christopher Norris DERRIDA AT YALE: THE "DECONSTRUCTIVE MOMENT" IN MODERNIST POETICS IN seven types of ambiguity, William Empson breezily remarked of his critical method that it was "either all nonsense or all very startling and new." The reactions went very much as Empson predicted, with a whole new school of criticism eagerly latching on to the idea of multiple meanings in poetry, while the sober-sided scholars indignantly attacked his wayward "misreadings" and flagrant anachronisms. At present, there is a similar controversy (...) raging around the figure of Jacques Derrida, whose influence on literary critics—mainly the Yale school of Geoffrey Hartman, Harold Bloom and J. Hillis Miller— occupies the forefront of debate in current theoretical exchange. Apart from all the sideshow of polemics, this parallel with Empson is a useful jumping-off point for an approach to Derrida and the implications of his writing. Empson opened up the literary text to a practice of reading which released as many ambiguities, overtones, and hints of recondite meaning as the analyst could reasonably claim to find in it. Reason, or commonsense judgment, still played an arbitrating role, since Empson wanted his readings at least to match something in the credible intention—at whatever "unconscious" level—of the author concerned. Subsequently, Empson has taken issue with the American New Critics on precisely this ground of authorial intention. Where they have dismissed all such considerations as outside the critic's proper interest or competence—treating the text as a "verbal icon," detached from any speculative background of motive or intent—Empson has come out in sturdy defense of "intentionalist" readings, based on available evidence of what the poet was trying to express. In other words, Empson, for all his dazzling inventiveness, held to a notion of the author as (implicitly) a self-possessed creator of meanings, one whose intentions demand critical respect, however broadly that requirement is to be interpreted in practice. Anglo-American criticism 242 Christopher Norris243 has lately been much preoccupied with the question of whether—or exactly how far—an author's original "meaning" can be recovered by close attention to his text. E. D. Hirsch's Validity in Interpretation is a classic if long-winded statement of the conservative view: that the critic's obligation is to come as close as possible to establishing what an author most probably meant in using language as. he did.3 The discipline involved is partly a matter of historical semantics (drawing a limit or "horizon" of possible meanings in context), and partly a matter of interpretative tact and sympathy. Hirsch grounds his argument on the Kantian premise that a text is in some sense the surrogate voice of its author, and that texts must therefore be treated, like people, as ends in themselves, and not means toward the critic's display of self-advertising brilliance. All the same, Hirsch has to acknowledge that authorial intention, as such, is beyond the grasp of this reconstructive program, which offers at best a kind of inferential yardstick for narrowing down the range of semantic potential. The problem which Hirsch never quite gets to grips with, despite his elaborate argumentation, is the fact that texts come across to us always from a distance of time, of experience or culture, which makes their meaning more or less opaque and problematic. The author is not simply there in the text, a self-authenticating "voice" of intent, as Hirsch (in his more sanguine moments) would have us believe. One might expect some such assurance from the homely narrative address of a novelist like Fielding, or the intimate soul-baring style of Wordsworth's poetry. Yet Fielding is as cunning a narrative tactician as any, his "voice" a shifting multitude of ironies and ploys; while Wordsworth manages a complex and selective rhetoric of memory which (as recent critics have shown) by no means communicates the "unmediated vision" of purely personal address. Hirsch yields a hostage to the relativist case by proposing a distinction between "meaning" (that which inheres in the text, and which the critic is duty-bound to preserve), and "significance" (the purely associative values which change with the passage of time and make room for rival or updated interpretations... (shrink)

Archives are responsible for presenting historical materials to users while also placing them in context. Historical individuals and their identities pose specific challenges for the archive, including how to negotiate changing cultural perspectives on identity and how to convey and explain contexts to modern audiences. Contemporary subject representation practices in cultural heritage tend to offer a reductivist view of personal identity. Using a collection of visual images of nineteenth and twentieth century sideshow performers, the present work explored a faceted approach (...) to representing personal identity in order to: 1) offer a more holistic view of historical individuals, their identities, and relationships; and 2) help place historical terms and perspectives into context in order to better support user understanding. Utilizing an inductive approach, the researchers developed a framework of seven facets of personal identity. A textual keyword analysis of existing title metadata for images in the collection was implemented in order to identify distinct individuals depicted and any facets associated with them. Finally, collection-based language and closest matches from several controlled vocabularies were used to assign values to the facets for all individuals. The resulting metadata offers a flexible, richer, more holistic analysis of personal identity for these materials, while also exposing some deeper issues concerning identity, performance, and visual imagery. Opportunities exist for further automation and application of this faceted system to other historical collections. (shrink)

While historical cultural materials inform users of the past, they may also contain language that perpetuates long-entrenched patterns of discrimination. In organizing and providing access to such materials, cultural heritage institutions must negotiate historical language and context with the comprehension and perspectives of modern audiences. Excerpted from a larger project exploring representation and access around historical terminology and personal identity, the present work offers insight into how knowl­edge organization systems may be used to help modern users confront and make sense (...) of past, discriminatory language in the archive. Using keywords drawn from the titles of 19th and 20th sideshow performer photographs, this work details the construction of a mapping dictionary that brings together corresponding terminology from several vocabulary sources along with annotations designed to explain historical terms to modern audiences. The development of this dictionary revealed several major types of problematic and potentially discriminatory language including historical euphemisms, misnomers, outdated terms, and sensationalist monikers. The finished dictionary offers opportunities to address these through explanatory annotations and to provide a richer, multi-perspective approach to subject analysis for these and other historical materials. (shrink)