This chapter contains sections titled: The Roots of the Blues in Trauma, Loss, and Adversity Transforming Trauma, Loss, and Adversity The Blues as Living Oral History Transformation through Music Emotional Regulation in the Blues The Creative Reverberation of Traumatic Loss The Blues as a Living, Evolving Legacy Notes.

The nineteenth century English Jesuit poet, Gerard Manley Hopkins struggled throughout his life with desolation over what he saw as a spiritually, intellectually and artistically unproductive life. During these periods, he experienced God’s absence in a particularly intense way. As he wrote in one sonnet, “my lament / Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent / To dearest him that lives alas! away.” What Hopkins faced was the existential problem of suffering and hiddenness, a problem widely recognized by analytic (...) philosophers to be left relatively untouched by conceptual explanations. In this essay, I argue that Hopkins’ poems themselves fill this gap left by conceptual approaches by articulating the existential crisis faced by those who feel the searing pain of suffering and the numbing, leaden echo of silence. His lyric speaks into existential suffering in ways akin to biblical laments and, as such, creates a space in which those who suffer can meet God, even if only to contend. Understood within Hopkins’ view of the incarnation and passion, these poems also suggest a way to identify with Christ in the experience of hiddenness, thereby making God present even in divine absence. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Journal of Aesthetic Education 38.2 (2004) 80-87 [Access article in PDF] The Beauty of Henri Matisse David Carrier Because beauty has for a long time now been politically incorrect (at least among certain influential critics and academic historians) the art of Henri Matisse has recently suffered from a kind of benign neglect. His goals were luxury, calm, and voluptuousness, not social critique. He painted female nudes, and was (...) preoccupied with artistic tradition. Celebrated in his own lifetime, he died a rich man. Matisse's famous identification of the work of art with a good armchair is another provocation. His paintings, after all, are very expensive armchairs. Liberated from any vital connection with everyday life, they often seem merely escapist. In her recent book, On Beauty and Being Just, Elaine Scarry remarks, "Matisse never hoped to save lives. But he repeatedly said that he wanted to make paintings so serenely beautiful that when one came upon them, suddenly all problems would subside."1 That some of Matisse's paintings succeed in being serenely beautiful seems self-evident to Scarry, to me, and to a great many other art lovers. What is perhaps worth exploring at greater length, however, is precisely how Matisse's paintings succeed in achieving their unfashionable goal. What is it that makes the work of Matisse so serenely beautiful?To start, consider The Painter and His Model (1918-1921), made just after his move from Paris to Nice. Like other works from this period of his career, this picture raises special problems, even for many commentators who admire his earlier experimentation. At the left, we see the painter working on a canvas of a nude. "Expression, for me," Matisse wrote, "does not reside in passions glowing in a human face."2 Like most of his models, this one appears expressionless. She poses at the center of the picture, beneath a window that admits the light filling the room. A flowering palm, a symbol of fertility, is the only object visible from the world outside the studio.Leaving behind his family and the luxury of his Paris home, Matisse lived and worked in a small room like this one. The entire picture is filled [End Page 80] with patterns — a red tablecloth on the left, orange wallpaper on the right, blue stripes on the painter's shirt, a red grid on the floor. A dark painting hangs above flowers on the table. The Painter and His Model shows the artist hard at work, but the composition appears effortlessly spontaneous. Matisse, who lived only to paint during his time in Nice, concealed the endless effort required to make his beautiful pictures. A man from North France, he discovered the power of light. There is nothing special about this room, but under the spell of his model Matisse makes it appear ravishing. Intense Mediterranean sunlight transforms ordinary patterns into a world of visual luxury.We know that The Painter and His Model is beautiful because we get great pleasure seeing the model in the golden room. Her skin is close in tone to, or in harmony with the colors of the walls; her curves harmonize with the two vases, and play against the spreading linear grids. As we move our eyes easily from the model to the entire picture, we experience a kind of sublimated erotic pleasure. In "Notes of a Painter," Matisse gave an apt description of his approach in The Painter and His Model. Suppose I want to paint a woman's body: first of all I imbue it with grace and charm, but I know that I must give something more. I will condense the meaning of this body by seeking its essential lines. The charm will be less apparent at first glance, but it must eventually emerge from the new image which will have a broader meaning, one more fully human. (MA, 36) He does not use the word "beauty," but speaks instead about expression and harmony. When he published this manifesto, Matisse was painting very different sorts of pictures — portraits, scenes of nudes in utopian settings, and... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Journal of Aesthetic Education 38.2 (2004) 80-87 [Access article in PDF] The Beauty of Henri Matisse David Carrier Because beauty has for a long time now been politically incorrect (at least among certain influential critics and academic historians) the art of Henri Matisse has recently suffered from a kind of benign neglect. His goals were luxury, calm, and voluptuousness, not social critique. He painted female nudes, and was (...) preoccupied with artistic tradition. Celebrated in his own lifetime, he died a rich man. Matisse's famous identification of the work of art with a good armchair is another provocation. His paintings, after all, are very expensive armchairs. Liberated from any vital connection with everyday life, they often seem merely escapist. In her recent book, On Beauty and Being Just, Elaine Scarry remarks, "Matisse never hoped to save lives. But he repeatedly said that he wanted to make paintings so serenely beautiful that when one came upon them, suddenly all problems would subside."1 That some of Matisse's paintings succeed in being serenely beautiful seems self-evident to Scarry, to me, and to a great many other art lovers. What is perhaps worth exploring at greater length, however, is precisely how Matisse's paintings succeed in achieving their unfashionable goal. What is it that makes the work of Matisse so serenely beautiful?To start, consider The Painter and His Model (1918-1921), made just after his move from Paris to Nice. Like other works from this period of his career, this picture raises special problems, even for many commentators who admire his earlier experimentation. At the left, we see the painter working on a canvas of a nude. "Expression, for me," Matisse wrote, "does not reside in passions glowing in a human face."2 Like most of his models, this one appears expressionless. She poses at the center of the picture, beneath a window that admits the light filling the room. A flowering palm, a symbol of fertility, is the only object visible from the world outside the studio.Leaving behind his family and the luxury of his Paris home, Matisse lived and worked in a small room like this one. The entire picture is filled [End Page 80] with patterns — a red tablecloth on the left, orange wallpaper on the right, blue stripes on the painter's shirt, a red grid on the floor. A dark painting hangs above flowers on the table. The Painter and His Model shows the artist hard at work, but the composition appears effortlessly spontaneous. Matisse, who lived only to paint during his time in Nice, concealed the endless effort required to make his beautiful pictures. A man from North France, he discovered the power of light. There is nothing special about this room, but under the spell of his model Matisse makes it appear ravishing. Intense Mediterranean sunlight transforms ordinary patterns into a world of visual luxury.We know that The Painter and His Model is beautiful because we get great pleasure seeing the model in the golden room. Her skin is close in tone to, or in harmony with the colors of the walls; her curves harmonize with the two vases, and play against the spreading linear grids. As we move our eyes easily from the model to the entire picture, we experience a kind of sublimated erotic pleasure. In "Notes of a Painter," Matisse gave an apt description of his approach in The Painter and His Model. Suppose I want to paint a woman's body: first of all I imbue it with grace and charm, but I know that I must give something more. I will condense the meaning of this body by seeking its essential lines. The charm will be less apparent at first glance, but it must eventually emerge from the new image which will have a broader meaning, one more fully human. (MA, 36) He does not use the word "beauty," but speaks instead about expression and harmony. When he published this manifesto, Matisse was painting very different sorts of pictures — portraits, scenes of nudes in utopian settings, and... (shrink)

Introduction : first things : two black and blue thoughts -- Author's note I. a sewing needle inside a plastic and rubber suction cup sitting on a watch spring, or, an object for seeing nothing -- Elegy of milk, in black and blue : the bruising of La Chambre claire -- "A" is for Alice, for amnesia, for anamnesis: a fairy tale (almost blue) called La Jetée -- Happiness with a long piece of black leader : Chris Marker's sans soleil (...) -- Author's note II. She wrote me -- "Summer was inside the marble": Alain Resnais and Magurite Duras's Hiroshima mon amour. (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: Emotional Trauma The Therapeutic Power of the Blues Three ‘Clinical’ Illustrations ‐ The Role of Lyrics Musical Characteristics of the Blues Concluding Remarks Notes.

Passion is a hidden issue behind or at the heart of, contemporary theoretical debates about nationalism, identity politics and religious fundamentalism. It is not that reason and passion cannot be conceptually distinguished. They are, however, always entangled in practice - and this entanglement itself requires a conceptual account. So it is my ambition to blur the line between reason and passion: to rationalize (some of) the passions and to impassion reason. Passionate intensity has a legitimate place in the (...) social world. This extension of rational legitimacy to the political passions seems to me a useful revision of liberal theory which has been too pre-occupied in recent years with the construction of dispassionate deliberative procedures. It opens the way for better accounts of social connection and conflict and for more explicit and self-conscious answers to the unavoidable political questions: which side are you on? Key Words: conviction • interest • liberalism • passion • politics • Yeats. (shrink)

Stones, like us, stand at the intersection of countless lines crossing one another and receding to infinity, at the center of a field of forces too unpredictable to be measured…On my desk, next to my laptop, a small piece of lapis lazuli. My eye is captured by the intense blue from its most important component, the mineral lazurite. The stone also contains white calcite specks and some metallic glistering from its pyrite elements. Looking at the play of colors, feeling the (...) weight and the surface of the rocky material, I am reminded of Marguerite Yourcenar's words at the end of her introduction to Caillois's The Writing of Stones when she invokes stones as force fields "at the intersection of countless lines... (shrink)

Christopher Tilmouth's wide-ranging study of Early Modern ideas of the passions explores a series of philosophical authors in relation to poets and dramatists of the period 1580 to 1680. Aristotle, Aquinas, Augustine, and Hobbes receive detailed treatment here, alongside Spenser's Faerie Queene, Hamlet and Julius Caesar, the lyrics of Herbert and Crashaw, and Milton's Paradise Lost. Central to this innovative exploration of literary-philosophical relations is a comprehensive reappraisal of the works of the Earl of Rochester.

From Kosovo to Québec, Ireland to East Timor, nationalism has been a recurrent topic of intense debate. It has been condemned as a source of hatred and war, yet embraced for stimulating community feeling and collective freedom. Joan Cocks explores the power, danger, and allure of nationalism by examining its place in the thought of eight politically engaged intellectuals of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries: the antagonist of capital, Karl Marx; the critics of imperialism Rosa Luxemburg, Hannah Arendt, and Frantz (...) Fanon; the liberal pluralist Isaiah Berlin; the neonationalist Tom Nairn, and the post-colonial writers, V. S. Naipaul and Edward Said. Cocks not only sheds new light on the complexities of nationalism but also reveals the tensions that have inspired and troubled intellectuals who have sought to lead lives between detached criticism and political passion.In lively, conversational prose, Cocks assesses their treatment of questions such as the mythology of national identity, the right to national self-determination, and the morality of nationalist violence. While ultimately critical of nationalism, she engages sympathetically even with its defenders. By illuminating the links that distinguished minds have drawn between thought and action on nationalism in politics, this stimulating work provides a rich foundation from which we ourselves might think or act more wisely when confronting a phenomenon that, in fundamental and perplexing ways, has shaped our world. (shrink)

Long claimed to be the dominant conception of practical reason, the Humean theory that reasons for action are instrumental, or explained by desires, is the basis for a range of worries about the objective prescriptivity of morality. As a result, it has come under intense attack in recent decades. A wide variety of arguments have been advanced which purport to show that it is false, or surprisingly, even that it is incoherent. Slaves of the Passions aims to set the record (...) straight, by advancing a version of the Humean theory of reasons which withstands this sophisticated array of objections. Schroeder defends a radical new view which, if correct, means that the commitments of the Humean theory have been widely misunderstood. Along the way, he raises and addresses questions about the fundamental structure of reasons, the nature of normative explanations, the aims of and challenges facing reductive views in metaethics, the weight of reasons, the nature of desire, moral epistemology, and most importantly, the relationship between agent-relational and agent-neutral reasons for action. (shrink)

Mixed emotions are conceptualized as involving the co-occurrence of states opposite in valence. One might expect that combinations of opposites would show diminished overall emotion intensity. But is this always the case? If not, when will mixed emotions be characterized by high intensity, and when by low intensity? In this article, theories of emotion-eliciting appraisal and emotion intensity are employed to understand mixed emotions and phenomena of passion. It is proposed that intense emotions are produced by (...) transformative events: perceived motive-relevant changes that are important, large, and rapid. Transformative events that can move a person between greatly motive-inconsistent and greatly motive-consistent outcomes constitute one potent path to passion. Illustrative phenomena of passion, mixed emotions, and related research are discussed. (shrink)

William James’s category of “first-hand religion” allows us to arrive at the religious from an internal and individual perspective, including in those activities and phenomena usually considered secular. B. B. King’s 1972 performance at Sing Sing Prison, documented by David Hoffman, brings both the prisoner audience and the performers to an “additional dimension” distinct from the hollowness of everyday (prison) life. In addition, the presence of this intense experience on the YouTube platform creates a fluid community of second-order observers, bound (...) not by any overarching belief but by observation of the experience itself. King’s performance is in the genre of blues music, which, in turn, has associations with African religious traditions. While the study of diverse religious traditions helps inform our understanding of the kinds of activities that might constitute the religious, this study takes individual experience as primary rather than as a manifestation of a particular tradition. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Catullan Provocations: Lyric Poetry and the Drama of PositionCarole E. NewlandsWilliam Fitzgerald. Catullan Provocations: Lyric Poetry and the Drama of Position. Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1995. x 1 310 pp. Cloth, $45 (US), £35 (foreign). (Classics and Contemporary Thought, 1)Fitzgerald’s richly provocative book on Catullus is the first in a promising series edited by Tom Habinek entitled Classics and Contemporary Thought. As the (...) title Catullan Provocations suggests, Fitzgerald’s book and Catullus’ poetry are related in their provoking of readers to reflect on the specific nature of poetic practice. Fitzgerald aims to replace the Romantic construct of Catullus as the individualistic, confessional sufferer with a poet “who explores the terms and possibilities of the poetic licence we have given him” (236). Fitzgerald pursues three layers of argument in each chapter: he explores the positional drama that takes place between poet, poem, and reader in Catullus’ lyric poetry; he situates that poetry within a Roman cultural context, broadly defined; and he critically examines the agenda underlying modern constructs of Catullus. Yet for a book that self-consciously claims an innovative approach, Catullan Provocations is curiously lacking in attention to specifics of gender and readership.Fitzgerald’s methodology is ambitious. He reads together poems that are usually put in separate categories. For instance, in chapter 2 he groups with c. 2 not c. 3, the other sparrow poem, but c. 15 and c. 16 (along with references to other poems), on the grounds that all three poems engage the position of the reader in relationship to the poet’s teasing sexuality. This unconventional grouping is refreshing and forces us to examine entrenched preconceptions. However, Fitzgerald’s habit of often excerpting from the poems and treating them piecemeal sometimes makes the line of argument hard to follow. In addition, wrong citations within the text—poem 16 instead of poem 15 (48), poem 98 instead of poem 58 (79)—give the reader unnecessary provocation. His method depends on careful editing, and here the University of California Press has done Fitzgerald a disservice by omitting two or three columns—around 30 poems—from the “Index of Catullun [sic] Poems Cited.”Catullan Provocations performs a valuable task in undermining the narratives that underpin the traditional constructs of Catullus. In chapter 1 Fitzgerald provides an enjoyable critique of two aspects of the scholarly refashioning of Catullus: first, the anchoring of a varied collection of poems to a single novelistic psyche, and second, the relationship between the poet and the modern scholar who, in producing a master narrative of love and betrayal, becomes, so Fitzgerald suggests, a better substitute for Lesbia in his or her putative greater understanding of the poet. Fitzgerald concludes the book with an interesting examination in chapter 9 of the misogynistic response to Catullus’ poetry by recent creative writers.In the main chapters of the book (2 through 8) Fitzgerald removes the tormented individual from center stage and focuses on the aggressive poetics that [End Page 468] situate Catullus in relation to questions of masculinity, obscenity, urbanity, social and sexual hierarchies, and cultural identity. Through a daring range of linguistic and dramatic strategies Catullus plays with the ambiguous nature of the poet’s position and unsettles the rigid “positives” of Roman social relations, such as the aristocratic network of mutual obligations. These chapters are stimulating, particularly chapter 8, where Fitzgerald argues that not passion for Lesbia or grief for his brother so much as Catullus’ anxieties about his Transpadane origins produce the poet’s most daring experiments in poetic mode and form. However, Fitzgerald’s conscious decision to position Catullus’ poetry not specifically within the culture of the 60s and 50s B.C. but “more broadly in the culture of his time in order to describe the meeting of the lyric genre with Roman preoccupations and norms” (236) sometimes leads to a lack of historical specificity. Aesthetic considerations dominate ethical, social, and political concerns, and questions of publication, circulation, and actual performance within the turbulent cultural milieu of late Republican Rome are not addressed.In addition, Fitzgerald’s judgments are not always supported by full analysis of the poems in question, but rather... (shrink)

Since I think that an inability to recognize and respect the dignity of human beings because of perceived differences is at the center of the most intense disputes that we face in the twenty-first century, we have a particularly pressing duty as philosophers to develop and demonstrate principled beliefs that at the same time value beliefs contrary to one’s own. One of the most troubling developments in the discipline of philosophy over the course of the twentieth century, therefore, was its (...) increasing insulation from cultural, social, and political issues as it sought to emulate the presumed value neutrality of the sciences. As a first step toward a more principled and thoughtful approach to the value of diversity, we need to openly address the divisions in our own ranks as to what constitutes philosophyand how it ought to be carried out, and I use feminist and pragmatist approaches as cases in point. (shrink)

One of the ways in which a poet may show his quality is by discrimination and originality in his choice of adjectives. Poetry likes to adorn the bare noun; a noun such as ‘the sky’ calls out for an attribute. But in practice the poet has to take care to avoid the cliche. He can seldom write ‘the blue sky’; even ‘the azure sky’ has become trite. He has to search for the epithet which will be both apt and original.

This essay represents an initial attempt to understand the interrelationship of mortality and subjectivity, passion and death, as they are explored in the works of Sartre, Derrida and Jean-Luc Nancy. From the very first discussions of the passions by Greek philosophers such as Aristotle, passion has held a liminal position: manifested in both body and soul, it transgresses the boundaries of psyche and soma and is especially difficult to categorize. It is not possible to work on passion without exploring the (...) mind/body relationship; and the question of human mortality is the paradigmatic locus where this relationship is most intensely exposed. In this essay, I examine these questions through a few selected texts, and in particular Nancy's Corpus and ‘L'Intrus’. (shrink)

The eighteenth century, having inherited a pessimism from classical anthropology that its own ideology of progress had to absorb, seemed to have invented le mal de vivre. Clues to this condition are suggested by the etymology of the term vacuus: vacuousness of existence (“Everywhere I find a terrifying emptiness,” asserted the hero of a novel around 1769), and “a vague disquiet which permeates everything and finds nothing to calm it,” according to the definition of Jacques the Fatalist. Le mal de (...) vivre was indeed an invention because, despite a terminology that was inspired by the theory of humors (“hysterical vapors” among women; “hypochondriac melancholy” for men), the philosophers and doctors of the Enlightenment already had envisaged the fatality of an anatomical “limit” for the etiology of “afflictions of the soul.” In this way, according to the Eléments de Physiologie (Elements of Physiology) of Diderot, the agitation of the imagination actually represented the degree of irritability, or of erethism, of the nervous system: “the dreams of young people in a state of innocence come from the extremities of the fibres (meaning the nervous fibres) which are the original carriers of obscure desires, vague disquiet, a melancholy whose cause they do not understand.” If we believe the article on “delight” (jouissance) in the Encyclopaedia, a “vague and melancholy disquiet,” which is linked in particular with the physiological changes occurring at puberty, constitutes a general and “normal” state of sensation, all “delight” implying by this definition the absence of disquiet in comparison with its external object. Reduced to its vibratile intensities, the “perceiving body” that is deprived of its totalizing metaphor becomes pulverized and fragmented into so many “desiring monads.” Like Condillac's statue, it destabilizes itself through the fields of force of the phenomenal world, completely obedient to the energy economy of other bodies that define its external frontier, left to the contradictory universal laws of attraction and repulsion that govern them: “Here below, each part, through a higher impulse, combines toward the central harmony of a whole. We collide with one another and are thrown backward and forward by the force maintaining a general equilibrium and order, in which we participate mechanically.”. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume on Tranquillizing the Passions John Immerwahr Borrowingafragmentfrom thelyric poetArchilochus, Sir IsaiahBerlin once divided thinkers into two categories: foxes, who know many things; and hedgehogs, who know only one, "one big thing."1 Although Berlin does not include Hume in either list, it is tempting to put him with the foxes. Indeed, Hume's corpus is brilliantly eclectic, ranging with equal facility over an impressive array of seemingly diverse subjects such (...) as epistemology, ethics, political science, religion, psychology, history, criticism, economics, and demography. Many of Hume's admirers have not even attempted to find a unity here, and Hume's less generous critics have attributed this diversity to an incessant hunger for "literary fame" which supposedly led Hume from topic to topic, always searching for popular acclaim and recognition.2 The dazzling diversity of Hume's thinking has obscured some important underlying themes; Hume is more of a hedgehog than he initially appears. At the centre of many of Hume's discussions is a recurring conviction about the nature of human well-being and the means to obtain it. This insistence—which can be found in each stage ofHume's career and in writings on virtually every topic—provides one way of finding an overarching unity to his thought and invites us to rethink some ofthe conventional wisdom about Hume. In this essay I argue that many of Hume's investigations are informed by his early distinction between calm and violent passions. Wherever we turn we find Hume insisting that people arehappiest and governments are most stable when emotional calmness prevails. Hume alsohas astrategy, which Icall "moderation through opposition," which is designedto"tranquillize and soften"the passions.3 This strategy also becomes a stylistic principle which informs Hume's own writing, especially his popular works. This essay begins with a brief discussion of the calm/violent distinction itself. I then sketch out the role ofcalm passions in Hume's treatment of rationality, happiness, morality, politics and religion. Next I turn from Hume's diagnosis to his proposed cure, and discuss the strategy that Hume presents for enhancing the calm passions; indeed, Hume's writing style itselfis often designed to implement this strategy. I then discuss the context of Hume's insight, arguing that while it grows out of a cosmopolitan continental paradigm of using Volume XVIII Number 2 293 JOHN IMMERWAHR passions to oppose passions, Hume's own use ofit is tailored to rather specific features of the political and intellectual life of eighteenth centuryEdinburgh. The essay concludesby discussingthe implications of these findings for reading ofHume's works. Passions: Calm and Violent One characteristic feature of the thinkers of the "Scottish Enlightenment" was a desire tofound moral concepts in a scientific and empirical understanding ofhuman nature, rather than upon abstract conceptions of virtue and justice.4 These thinkers were particularly interestedin non-cognitivistelements ofhuman nature, such as"taste," "sentiment" and the "passions,"5 and they were also interested in discriminatingamongthe feelings and passions to discover those which were most beneficial to the individual or society. One Scottish philosopher who was particularly influential upon Hume in this connection was Francis Hutcheson. In discussing the passions, Hutcheson distinguished between what he called the "calm desire of good" and the "particular passions towards objects immediately presented to the senses." Hutcheson noted that these calm desires were frequently powerful enough to conquer particular passions such as "lust or revenge."6 The calm passions are thus very important to our understanding ofhuman motivation. As in so many other things, Hume also appears to be influenced by Hutcheson on the existence and importance of "calm passions." Early in Treatise 2, Hume expands on Hutcheson's idea that our experience ofan emotion or passion can be described as either "calm" or "violent"7 (also "soft" or "tender," "rough" or "fierce").8 The main difference between calmness and violence has to do with the intensity with which a passion is experienced. When we experience violent passions we feel an "uneasiness" (T 418) and sometimes "disorders and agitations" (E 17).9 Other passions are "calm" in that they cause "no disorder in the soul" and "little emotion in the mind" (T 417).10 Hume's main point is that... (shrink)

It is currently assumed that exposure to an artificial blue-enriched light enhances human alertness and task performance, but recent research has suggested that behavioural effects are influenced by the basal state of arousal. Here we tested whether the effect of blue-enriched lighting on vigilance performance depends on participants’ arousal level. Twenty-four participants completed four sessions (blue-enriched vs. dim light x low vs. high arousal) at 10 pm on four consecutive days, following a repeated-measures design. Participants’ arousal was manipulated parametrically through (...) the execution of a cycling task at two intensities (low vs. moderate), and was checked by monitoring their heart rate. On each session, distal and proximal skin temperatures were recorded as a neuroergonomic index of vigilance, while participants performed a 20-min psychomotor vigilance task (PVT) under either blue-enriched light or dim light conditions. The Positive and Negative Affect Schedule (PANAS), Karolinska Sleepiness Scale (KSS) and Borg Rating of Perceived Exertion Scale (RPE) were used to measure subjective psychological state. The results showed that the exercise-induced manipulation of arousal produced robust alerting effects in most measures, while the lighting manipulation only attenuated subjective sleepiness and enhanced positive affect, but it did not influence behaviour or physiology. Acute exposure to a blue-enriched light was practically ineffective when the arousal level was over baseline. The present research favoured the use of acute physical exercise over acute exposure to blue-enriched lighting in order to boost humans’ alertness when necessary, as in work settings where maintaining optimal levels of attention is difficult (shift work, night-work, vigilance tasks) and necessary to prevent human error and accidents. (shrink)

The day was particularly appropriate. There was a great deal of publicity for the 50th anniversary of the world's first working modern computer, which ran at Manchester on 21 June 1948. And at 10.30pm the night before, 22 June 1998, the House of Commons had voted by a large majority to change the law so that homosexual and heterosexual acts would alike be governed by an 'age of consent' of 16. It was recognised by all sides that the issue at (...) stake was that of equality. (Note added later: the law was indeed finally changed on 30 November 2000, despite intense opposition from christian leaders in the unelected House of Lords.). (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:“Foucault for Psychoanalysis”Monique David-Ménard’s Kind of BluePenelope DeutscherFoucault for psychoanalysis? This is a paradoxical question. Foucault also produced a critique of psychoanalysis, aiming to show that sexuality was not an a-temporal reality, nor a truth eventually discovered by Freud. It was a discursive formation, one among others.—Eloge des hasards dans la vie sexuelle, 172.To the philosophers..A practicing psychoanalyst and a professor of philosophy, Monique David-Ménard extends a singular proposition (...) to philosophers. She is not the first philosopher to engage the assumptions of psychoanalysis, but hers is a particularly idiosyncratic suggestion for how to think with the analyst’s clinical work, intimate and alien. She has proposed we do so in the company of Gilles Deleuze,1 and most recently, in Eloge des hasards dans la vie sexuelle (2011) has extended her invitation to think with the clinic through an ingenious reading of Michel Foucault.As Eloge opens, David-Ménard’s reading of Foucault is far from the scene. Early in the work, we are asked to think with a practice, seemingly in a different register. An analyst finds herself accused of being an obstacle, of opposing the analysand’s wishes in life. In this context, we are asked to think about the blue of a painting in the room where the analysand waits (David-Ménard 2011, 34). [End Page 111]Given the criticisms of psychoanalysis elaborated in the work of Foucault and Deleuze, one might have expected these philosophers to be considered in Eloge in that stead.2 Or, one could imagine Foucault playing a role because of his genealogical analysis of the formation of the Oedipus complex.3Two years after the publication of Deleuze’s Anti-Oedipus, Foucault had, in Abnormal, characterized the desiring space of the family as stimulated in a capillary network of individualizing normalization (Foucault 2003, 257), linked by medicalized and expert concern of which parents became the auxiliaries. They are charged, and charge themselves, with the goals of family health, of preservative and defensive good parenting, and with the conduct of the child’s conduct. Foucault describes the pre-twentieth century emergence of lay and expert preoccupation with the dangers of childhood masturbation. This produces an environment whose intensive scrutiny involves a close “folding of... parents’ bodies over... children’s bodies” (ibid., 265) in a saturated, hermetic environment stimulating oedipalized desire. This means one can offer a genealogical account of the conditions of formation of the latter. These include a responsibilization of parents, who control for the presence of abnormal sex, advised by new experts (lay, medical, pseudo-scientific) in collective crusades for health and life. Thus there is differentiation through minor gradations of abnormality. Even the specificity of the architectural spaces in which scrutiny is directed plays a role in the hollowing out of the child’s putatively interior psychic-sexual life, the intense object of “palpating” interest (Foucault 1978, 45) in new apparatuses of knowledge-power (Foucault 2003, 327).Because he presents this as the context in which the “nuclear and substantial family was gradually constituted” (Foucault 2003, 264), along with its oedipal configurations of desire, Foucault emphasizes the contingency of both. Psychoanalysis would be, from his perspective, willfully indifferent to these or other possibilities for genealogical analysis of the apparatus of power, knowledge, and the body, of the repeating configurations of desire that are its special domain of expertise,4 and the emergent forms of authority associated with the analyst, described in History of Madness (Foucault 2009) and in Psychiatric Power (Foucault 2006).Perhaps we’d expect to see David-Ménard, the psychoanalyst, addressing these accounts, but they are neither repudiated in Eloge, nor extensively discussed. Far from rejecting a genealogical analysis of psychoanalysis, she promotes its promise. But this is so in a particular sense.Necessity and repetitionA particular patient might fear being “mad like her mother.” She might fear being denied, trapped, or annihilated (David-Ménard 2011, 33). She might [End Page 112] consider herself somehow denied a lover. She might seem to be denying herself a lover. There’s a degree of necessity in all these variants. Perhaps these... (shrink)

This dissertation examines Aquinas's teaching on the acts specific to temperance. According to a widespread interpretation of this teaching , the proper act of temperance is spontaneous, ordinate passion. Temperance thus not only causes someone to experience the right passions towards the right objects but does so antecedent to reason's command. Indeed, temperance is thought to have little if anything to do with reason's control of the passions. In an introductory chapter, I show that this understanding of temperance faces a (...) number of serious objections. In the next four chapters, I develop the thesis that the proper act of temperance is ordinate, consequent passion alone; the only relation temperance has to antecedent passion is simply to prevent it from ever being vehement, affecting only its intensity, not its ordination. ;I develop my thesis by examining Aquinas's teaching on the passions, which can only be consistently ordinate if commanded by reason ; reason's control of the passions, which can be consistent only if the sense appetite is habituated to obey reason alone, thus preventing it from being moved by any of the external or internal sense powers when they move antecedent to reason's command ; habit, which is not a principle of spontaneous action or passion, but is rather something we use only when we will . Temperance is thus a habit that gives reason nearly complete control of the passions, a moral virtue that is used only when we will and thus is exclusively a cause of ordinate, consequent passion . ;In the final chapter, observing that Aquinas is silent on the consistency with which the temperate person experiences spontaneous, ordinate passions, I attempt to fill this lacuna by developing the notions of "semi-virtue" and "semi-virtuous passion," building on Aquinas's teaching on the internal sense powers, especially the cogitative power. (shrink)

Can we maintain that purple seems composed of red and blue without giving up the impenetrability of the red and blue parts that compose it? Brentano thinks we can. Purple, according to him, is a chessboard of red and blue tiles which, although individually too small to be perceived, are together indistinctly perceived within the purple. After a presentation of Brentano’s solution, we raise two objections to it. First, Brentano’s solution commits him to unperceivable intentional objects (the chessboard’s tiles). Second, (...) his chessboard account fails in the end to explain the phenomenal spatial continuity of compound colours. We then sketch an alternative account, which, while holding fast to the phenomenal compoundedness of the purple and to the impenetrability of component colours, avoids introducing inaccessible intentional objects and compromising on the continuity of the purple. According to our proposal, instead of being indistinctly perceived spatial parts of the purple, red and blue are distinctly perceived non- spatial parts of it. (shrink)

Breaking off the ordinary flow of experience, the passions create a state of exception. In their suddenness and intensity, they map a personal world, fix and qualify our attention, and impel our actions. Outraged anger drives us to write laws that will later be enforced by impersonal justice. Intense grief at the death of someone in our life discloses the contours of that life to us. Wonder spurs scientific inquiry. The strong current of Western thought that idealizes a dispassionate (...) world has ostracized the passions as quaint, even dangerous. Intense states have come to be seen as symptoms of pathology. A fondness for irony along with our civic ideal of tolerance lead us to prefer the diluted emotional life of feelings and moods. Demonstrating enormous intellectual originality and generosity, Philip Fisher meditates on whether this victory is permanent-and how it might diminish us. From Aristotle to Hume to contemporary biology, Fisher finds evidence that the passions have defined a core of human nature no less important than reason or desire. Traversing the Iliad, King Lear, Moby Dick, and other great works, he discerns the properties of the high-spirited states we call the passions. Are vehement states compatible with a culture that values private, selectively shared experiences? How do passions differ from emotions? Does anger have an opposite? Do the passions give scale, shape, and significance to our experience of time? Is a person incapable of anger more dangerous than someone who is irascible? In reintroducing us to our own vehemence, Fisher reminds us that it is only through our strongest passions that we feel the contours of injustice, mortality, loss, and knowledge. It is only through our personal worlds that we can know the world. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The “Wider View”: André Hellegers’s Passionate, Integrating Intellect and the Creation of BioethicsWarren Thomas Reich* (bio)AbstractThis article provides an account of how André Hellegers, founder and first Director of the Kennedy Institute of Ethics at Georgetown University, laid medicine open to bioethics. Hellegers’s approach to bioethics, as to morality generally and also to medicine and biomedical science, involved taking the “wider view”—a value-filled vision that integrated and gave (...) meaning to what otherwise was disparate, precarious, and conflicting. This article shows how Hellegers’s wider view of bioethics was shaped by events in his own life, his resultant sense of the precariousness of life and health, his commitment to religious inclusiveness, his research in fetal medicine, his clinical experience in obstetrics, his role in the struggle to change the teaching of the Roman Catholic Church on fertility control, and his developing concepts of health and disease. Hellegers was committed to and worked toward bioethics as a self-consciously interdisciplinary field in which the contributing disciplines adapt to each other—rather than sustain themselves as autonomous disciplines—to create a dynamic and complex intellectual, clinical, and social activity.André Hellegers’s personality and life were like that of a meteor: brief appearance on the scene; high-speed, flaming trajectory; quick burn-out; its smallest residue worth examining for ages to come. You had to watch carefully, for otherwise you might miss what he was about—what he was really about. He had an unusually probing and unflagging mind, coupled with the ability to make people think; and in a very real sense, that is what he was always about. André was an extremely effective communicator. He was like Fred Astaire: he had flair and charm, and no matter how crowded the room, you instantly knew when he entered it. Like Astaire, he had a deep intensity and striving for perfection while making his art always look like great fun. He was an engaging [End Page 25] story-teller who also knew how to stun intelligent people with his insightful, often ironic and humorous thinking that got to the bottom of things very quickly, leaving his interlocutors with a huge agenda for further reflection. Yet in spite of all this alluring talent, André never attracted attention to himself in a vain way. Even as raconteur, he was always working, getting people to think and talk.There were three great passions in Hellegers’s life that enabled him to inspire and shape bioethics as he did. He had a passionate intellect that was constantly probing for new clarity at new levels of understanding and values, and he had the ability to infect other people with his intellectual passion. André Hellegers was deeply rooted in a Catholicism scarcely imaginable in the United States—an open, historically-conscious, northern European faith that kept him free of ideology while providing him a foundation on which he built a rich ecumenicity of theological and philosophical bioethics. Finally, and perhaps most decisively for his founding work in bioethics, Hellegers pushed and probed to get a world that was almost totally unaccustomed to communicating over disciplinary lines (incredibly, virtually no interdisciplinary conferences had taken place before his day) to dialogue and collaborate across the barriers of medicine, politics, and religion.IntroductionThe customary way of writing a history of someone’s involvement in the origins of something—say, the origins of a nation or, I suppose, the origins of bioethics—certainly would not customarily start with the foregoing type of vignette. It would have as its purpose to discuss such things as issues, events that raised issues, methods pursued and applied, and outcomes achieved. However, in this modest account of some of the major contributions of the late André E. Hellegers, M.D., to the development of the field of bioethics, I intend to focus on a different level of historical inquiry, one that portrays and explains the person, his world-view, and his motivation, as well as the cultural forces and events that conspired to make Hellegers and the people with whom he came into contact vibrant with a sense of innovative and creative—not to mention urgent—inquiry. I believe that... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Barbarous On Either Side: The New York Blues Of Mr. Sammler’s PlanetStanley CrouchThere are no two ways about virtue, my dear student; it either is, or it is not. Talk of doing penance for your sins! It is a nice system of business, when you pay for your crime by an act of contrition! You seduce a woman that you may set your foot on such and such (...) a rung of the social ladder; you sow dissension among the children of a family; you descend, in short, to every base action that can be committed at home or abroad, to gain your own ends for you own pleasure or profit.... That man with yellow gloves and a golden tongue commits many a murder; he sheds no blood, but he drains his victims as surely; a desperado forces open a door with a crowbar, dark deeds both of them! You yourself will do every one of the things that I suggested to you today, bar the bloodshed. Do you believe there is any absolute standard in this world?—Vautrin, Père GoriotWe are now mightily perplexed by the vulgarity and the brutal appetites of our culture, which Mr. Sammler sees so, so clearly, startled from page to page and in passage after passage of Saul Bellow’s 1970 novel. The terrible children of our day, the worst of our politicians, and the rampant sleaze that slides up and down the classes, across the races and religions, from the cynical students to the unrepentingly jaded and old, can be traced back to the elements that are so alarming to the protagonist of Mr. Sammler’s Planet. As a well-educated man who has smelled the molten breath and felt the bloody teeth of European fascism, Mr. Sammler is obsessed with understanding what makes or breaks a society, what causes a civilization to embrace ruthlessness as the [End Page 89] best way to realize its ambitions and handle its fears. A veteran of World War II, he has seen killing and he has done it himself, which makes him a man for whom none of his questions exists in a speculative air unfouled by the odor of murder. His intellectual ponderings are thereby part of a drama in which he has seen the lowest the Western world has to offer. This lack of innocence makes him a hero and a thinker haunted by his past and startled to uneasiness by the present. Oh, yes: Artur Sammler knows firsthand how quickly the metamorphosis from the refined to the smugly savage can take place. “Like many people who had seen the world collapse once, Mr. Sammler entertained the possibility it might collapse twice.”The very conception of Mr. Sammler is expressive of Bellow’s gift for bringing together the intellect, the passion, the spirit, and the flesh. The physical responses to stimulation are rendered with the same attention given to all of the many things that Mr. Sammler contemplates as he tries to get a grip on New York, America’s financial capital and the pinnacle of the nation’s culture. Mr. Sammler’s ideas are counterpointed by feeling and sensuality to such a degree that the thoughts are themselves elements of emotion, which is something only our finest writers can bring off, the literary condition of character so complete that every aspect of consciousness takes form within the container of a body equal in the life of its senses to the spirit it carries. We get the feeling of a human being in repose, in grief, in rage, in self-protective contemplation, in unsparing self-examination, in attentive motion through Manhattan, on foot, in public transportation, in chauffeured limousine.New York’s power over the country was central to why it was chosen as the place of action. Mr. Sammler could not be in a better setting if he were to wrestle with the identity of the United States. One part of it obviously has to do with the character’s Jewishness. Manhattan and Hollywood are the two places where Jews have made their deepest imprints on the country. Unlike the dream factory of Hollywood, New York is the city... (shrink)

Music is considered an indispensable feature for almost all religions. Christianity emerges as one of the most important religious traditions in which music is involved in rituals and social life. Among the Christian sects, there are different practices in terms of using music. American Christianity was the scene of religious awakening in the 18th and 19th centuries. One of the most important reflections of this process took place in the field of music. American Christianity has given particular importance to music (...) in the experience of religious awakening since the 18th and 19th centuries. At the end of the 19th century, traditional Christian hymns have largely been altered or abandoned. Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran and Pentecostal churches have played a role in the transformation and spread of Christian music. This process has emerged as new genre hymns and later as Gospel music. There are some similar and seperated points among the new music genres. The musical instruments which they use, melody structures, the places they are performed, their improvisation or rules and their poetic features are among these points. With the introduction of these two genres and some local cultural factors, music genres have emerged as secular in style but which may have religious content. Regardless of whether it is secular or religious music, these genres have used religious terminology in their lyrics. At the same time, there are some similarities at the point of the musicians who perform these music. Blouse and Jazz are considered as the two most prominent and international examples. (shrink)

Rawdon Wilson's "On Character" raised a great many questions, and I should like to deal with lesser matters before going on to those of more consequence. He has found in my work the Fallacy of Novelistic Presumption. To commit this unnatural act is to assume "that the novel possesses a history that is independent of other modes of fiction and that it may be discussed independently of the history of literature." Let me say at the outset that I am not (...) trying to frame a restrictive definition of the novel. Novels are whatever most critics agree to call novels, and if I speak of "the novel" I can only hope that the phrase will be taken as convenient shorthand rather than an attempt to define an essence. And of course the novel has a history of its own, just as the state of Connecticut has a history even as it remains one of the fifty states, just as literature has a history although it is only one of the arts or institutions of our culture. Mr. Wilson wants a theory of characters that "will necessarily account for - go to the heart of - all instances of character, symbolic, allegorical, naturalistic, whether in the novel, in epic, in romance, in drama, or in lyric." To that I can only reply with E.M. Forster's sentence: "We must exclude someone from our gathering, or we shall be left with nothing." In this essay Martin Price, Thomas E. Donnelley Professor of English at Yale University, responds to Rawdon Wilson's "On Character" which raised objections to Price's "People of the Book: Character in Forster's A Passage to India". (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: Notes.

Selon Rousseau le langage n’est pas né pour dire le monde, mais pour dire l’amour. Au 18ème siècle, cette thèse originale déplace les lignes car elle met l’expression des affects au coeur de la communication : ce n’est pas pour assurer la référence que nous parlons mais pour instituer le monde de nos passions. C’est à suivre ce fil rouge qu’est consacrée cette étude. Il ne s’agit pas seulement de montrer qu’un tel fil permet de lire ensemble l’Essai sur l’origine (...) des langues et le reste de l’oeuvre, ou qu’il traverse et unit les écrits du philosophe et ceux de l’écrivain. Il y a plus et plus important - là où Rousseau noue anthropologie des passions et doctrine de l’expression, un mystère quotidien nous attend. C’est celui par lequel ce que nous disons de ce que nous sentons ne se distingue plus en droit de ce que nous sentons. Un amour est comme un feu : s’il se déclare, il existe autrement. Il est plus vif, plus intense. Plus dangereux aussi. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Phaedra's Labyrinth as the Paradigm of Passion: Racine's Aesthetic Formulation of Mimetic Desire Jacques-Jude Lépine Haverford College The actual model of Racine's Phaedra is no more the one that he claims to follow in his preface than one ofthose which his critics have sought in vain to find in the works of his immediate predecessors.1 Indeed, the comparative reading ofRacine's last profane tragedy against his sources shows that Seneca (...) and Euripides only provided a very general framework, one might say a traditional theme, which Racine completely recasts on the level of the plot, structure, characters, poetic esthetics, and theatrical performance. On the other hand, the myth of Phaedra's involuntary passion for her stepson Hippolytus, the hunter who was supposed to be atavistically insensitive to erotic seduction, could very well have been reorganized on the basis of another mythological episode which precedes it, the killing of the Minotaur by Theseus in the Labyrinth. There are many explicit references to this episode throughout Racine's Phaedra. There are even more than a rich but strictly thematic critic has been able to detect (see Racine), underscoring the fundamental point of my essay that the intensely poetic character of the Labyrinth, and particularly its function as a fantastic spatial frame, is not simply of a decorative nature. In Racine's work, as in any other genuine literary masterpiece, there is a unity ofcontent and form. The many references to the Labyrinth are determinant for the very subject ofPhaedra, which is the representation of passion, the only subject of interest for Racine. In fact, I intend to demonstrate that Racine used the unique topography of the Labyrinth as a paradigm of the logic of the relationships between his ' These works are Garnier's "Hippolyte" (1573) and Quinault's "Bellérophon" (1671). 48Jacques-Jude Lépine characters because of its capacity for fully expressing the mimetic origin of passion, a decisive discovery the gradual stages towards which may be traced in all his previous works. The Monster Hunt as a Metaphor of the Dramatic Action In order to demonstrate this point, I will start from the textual data, even though it will be necessary to go beyond a simple inventory of the themes explicitly connected to the Labyrinth. The first of these themes is obviously the one of monstrosity. At some point in the play, all the main characters accuse themselves, or are accused, of being a monster (Barthes 115). The relationship between this moral monstrosity (expressed in ambiguous statements suggesting a physical sign) and the return of Theseus, whose numerous monster hunts Hippolytus recalls in the opening scene,2 is easy to see. As has been already noted, the theme of the monster hunt is present from beginning to end of the play, where the fight between Hippolytus and the sea monster occurs (see Jasenas). But the monsterpar excellence is the Minotaur, whose death at the hands of Theseus Phaedra recalls in a famous speech which serves to reveal her passion to Hippolytus through a series of substitutions in the original cast of characters: Oh, why were you too young top have embarked Within the ship that brought him [Theseus] to our shores? You would have been the monster's killer then, In spite of all the windings of his maze. To find your way in that uncertain dark, My sister would have armed you with the thread. But no! In this design I would have been Ahead of her, my sister! Me, not her, It would have been whom love at first inspired; And I it would have been, Prince, I, whose aid Had taught you all the Labyrinth's crooked ways. A single thread would not have been enough To satisfy your lover's fears for you. I would myself have wished to lead the way, And share the perils you were bound to face. Phaedra, into the Labyrinth, with you Would have descended, and with you returned, To safety, or with you have perished. (647-62) 2 See verses 73-90. References to Margaret Rawlings's translation of Phaedra will be given parenthetically in the text. The verse numbers refer to the French edition... (shrink)

Pain: groans and birth pangs of the divine enjoyment -- Yearning: traces of the divine erotic existence in the cosmos -- Permeability: the open wounds of the lovers' flesh -- Intensity: passionate becomings of the divine complex -- Impropriety: incarnations of carnivalesque passion and open-ended boundaries.

Aryel Sanat's meticulously researched and cogently argued exploration of Krishnamurti's inner life and experiences explodes a number of popular myths about Krishnamurti, particularly that he denied the existence of the Theosophical Masters and disdained the esoteric side of the spiritual path. Rather, Sanat persuasively demonstrates, Krishnamurti had a rich and intense esoteric life. Moreover, the truths of the Ancient Wisdom, as revealed through the Masters, were a reality to Krishnamurti every day of his life, from his boyhood until his death. (...) The real story of Krishnamurti's inner life is shown to have critical implications for our understanding of Krishnamurti's life and ideas and for our views of Theosophy, Buddhism, the teachings of Gurdjieff---indeed, the entirety of contemporary spiritual thought. (shrink)

I have gathered and studied these Sanskrit and Telugu writings by South Indian poets, and I’ve thought about them, and researched them for a few years. My highest priority in this piece is not to make the most simple literal word-for-word translation. I am trying not only to be faithful to the original texts, but to find a way in English to tell the detailed century-old stories more naturally, conveying them in a way that gives them a flow and literary (...) charm. I want to make a new attempt to convey these century-old stories which suggest the rich feelings of human life, in refreshing ways. I hope people who are not professional Indologists, but who are humanists, can enjoy the nuances of the topic. So this article based on translations is literary and frankly experimental; it is about natural experiences told in natural language. Often, translations from centuries ago seem stilted, dry and archaic, literally correct and academically adequate, but lacking such touchstones of basic humanity’s life as inner feelings and visceral intuitive sensations. I am exercising a hope of offering a fresh telling, and a chance to provide some imaginative reflections on this topic I have chosen. The theme is sweat—and other natural human responses. Why explore sweat? This is a pertinent question. For one thing, I’ve been struck by how the experience of sweat meant something different centuries ago in India, in comparison with what it means to many people today. As reflected in Sanskrit literature, it had associations with desirable feelings—thrills, soulful exertions, arousal, passionate intensity. It is distinctive, and I seek to know what it might tell us about life, both to Hindus and non-Hindus. It offers a chance to contemplatively play around with beauty, too. It is an aesthetic exploration, an artistic challenge, an alluring human mood, of loving joy. The longer texts I am working with are Tirumalamba’s Sanskrit text Varadambika Parinaya Campu and Pingali Surana’s Telugu text Kalapurnodayam. Shorter texts I refer to include a verse from the Sanskrit Bhagavad Gita, and Jayadeva’s Sanskrit Gita Govinda, and a Telugu song by Annamacharya. (shrink)

First published in 1918, Ernst Bertram's _Nietzsche: Attempt at a Mythology_ substantially shaped the image of Nietzsche for the generation between the wars. It won the Nietzsche Society's first prize and was admired by luminous contemporaries including André Gide, Hermann Hesse, Gottfried Benn, and Thomas Mann. Although translated into French in 1932, the book was never translated into English following the decline of Nietzsche's and Bertram's reputations after 1945. Now, with Nietzsche's importance for twentieth-century thought undisputed, the work by one (...) of his most influential interpreters can at last be read in English. Employing a perspectival technique inspired by Nietzsche himself, Bertram constructs a densely layered portrait of the thinker that shows him riven by deep and ultimately irresolvable cultural, historical, and psychological conflicts. At once lyrical and intensely probing, richly complex yet thematically coherent, Bertram's book is a masterpiece in a forgotten tradition of intellectual biography. (shrink)

Illocutionary force may be qualified according to Aristotle's classical triadic distinction of logos as a degree of verity, ethos as a degree of credibility or authority and pathos as eloquence or passional intensity. Jakobson 's model of linguistic functions can be understood as operating performatively with greater advantages to pragmatic theory than Searle and Vanderveken's taxonomy of illocutionary acts. Consequently, these three dimensions can also be found in the aesthetic as in other linguistic functions proposed by Jakobson when examined (...) from a pragmatic viewpoint. By detecting the direction of fit and establishing a distinction between conversion and constitution, we may better understand not only the difference between the aesthetic and other functions but a variety of instances besides the artistic in which the aesthetic is displayed. Therefore, pathos can be clearly differentiated from the aesthetic as a dimension that may weigh, together with logos and ethos, upon the aesthetic function of an illocutionary act. (shrink)

It is great honor to be even a virtual part of an event to celebrate the work of Leslie Zines, and especially to celebrate it in such august company. Leslie was a colleague that I greatly admired and liked. The disciplinary divide between us was not any bar to affection, though Leslie never let me forget that the constitutional-law terrain was sacred ground on which outsiders ventured at their peril. I particularly enjoyed the way that he, like our mutual, recently (...) departed friend, Paul Finn, gently mocked the pretensions of a philosopher to declaim on topics jurisprudential. I fear I’m going to tread on his ground again in this little paper and I can only beg his, and Paul’s, posthumous indulgence. My topic is the dispersion of power within the state. This ideal has a long history but has ceased to be much celebrated by those who endorse it and has come in for fierce attack among populist opponents. It’s not an exaggeration to say, in Yeats’s words, that on this subject ‘The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity’. In this short paper I would like to rehearse reasons why we should warmly endorse the dispersive ideal. And endorse it, regardless of how we dub it: whether, for example, we describe it in a mainly twentieth-century formula, as the separation of powers; in an eighteenth-century antecedent as a regime of checks and balances; in an earlier name that goes back to the Roman Republic as a mixed constitution; or in a term I myself favor as a polycentric arrangement or system. (shrink)

Following the seemingly endless debate over managed care liability, I cannot suppress thoughts of Yeats’s poem, “The Second Coming.” It is not the wellknown phrase, “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold,” that comes to mind; although that could describe the feeling of a health-care system unraveling. The poem’s depiction of lost innocence — “The best lack all conviction, while the worst/Are full of passionate intensity” — does not allude to the legislature, the industry, the public, or the (...) medical or legal profession. What resonates is the poem’s evocation of humanity’s cyclical history of expectation and disappointment, with ideas as grand as justice and occupations as pedestrian as managed care. Writing in 1919, Yeats described the end of an era with images of war’s destructive forces. The poem expresses a universal desire for some miraculous rebirth or resolution of all problems: “Surely some revelation is at hand.” But instead, the brutish Sphinx-like creature emerges, possibly the Antichrist. New gods displace old gods in the cycle of civilization, and man must muddle on. (shrink)

Presidential leadership: navigating climate and challenges -- The hunt for dollars: appealing to constituents and critics -- Presidential engagements and entanglements: the university tackles the wider world -- Inheriting the wind: institutional stories and the shoulders of predecessors -- The contest for the middle: can the center hold? -- The dilemmas of diversity -- Political rightness and ideology: the battleground in and around the academy's walls -- The courage to hold the center: balancing convictions and passionate intensity -- (...) Presidential imprints: securing the academic core from threats within and without -- Life in the bully pulpit: choices and dilemmas -- The present and the future: presidential prospects -- The presidential post: inside the job -- The future presidency: guardian of the soul of the university. (shrink)

I prefer to put this in a letter to you instead of writing an article that would lead one to believe that I have any authority to speak on the subject of what has, in a roundabout way, become the H. and H. affair . In other words, a cause of extreme seriousness, already discussed many times although certainly endless in nature, has been taken up by a storm of media attention, which has brought us to the lowest of passions, (...) intense emotions, and even violence. I understand why people are talking about Victor Farias, who has contributed some unpublished information—with a polemical intent, it is true, that does not help one to appreciate its true value. But how has it happened that Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe’s book, published in 1987, was greeted by a silence that I am perhaps the first to break?1 It is because he avoids anecdotal accounts, all the while citing and situating most of the facts mentioned by Farias. He is severe and rigorous. He lays essential questions before us. 1. Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe, La Fiction du politique: Heidegger, l’art et la politique . I also cite Lacoue-Labarthe’s book, La Poésie comme experience , devoted to Paul Celan. Maurice Blanchot, one of France’s preeminent writers, has written, among many other books, The Last Man, Death Sentence, The Madness of the Day, and The Gaze of Orpheus and Other Literary Essays. Paula Wissing, a free-lance translator and editor, has recently translated Paul Veyne’s Did the Greeks Believe in Their Myths? (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: Notes.

This chapter contains sections titled: Marx Sings the Revolutionary Blues Did the Buddha Have the Blues? Kierkegaard's Passion and the Passion of the Blues Notes.

The institutional development can be done by any strategies, one of them are creating new innovation called as blue ocean strategy. Blue ocean strategy is theway to develops the institution without had to quarrel in the strict zone with another institution. Its different with red zone strategy determining the birth of new market space or different innovation has been owned. So, this strategy is more emphasize how the institutions have not to conquer the competition using the vis á vis to (...) the rival. The study of this article is about using Blue ocean strategy at public relation in developing the institution since the beginning the statuses change of STAIN Tulungagung to IAIN Tulungagung, 2013. This paper approaches qualitative research which is focused on the strategy of developing IAIN Tulungagung institution through the new innovation: creating of the value innovation, recruiting new students intensively established the out of box edu-fair event, branding, establishing the advance program and promoting the institution, developing the human capital. All of those new innovations are blue ocean strategy has been done by IAIN Tulungagung according to different four steps of work scheme profits such as Decrease-Delete-Create-Increase becomes Passive-Save-Create-Increase. (shrink)

What kind of affective phenomenon is religious zeal and how does it relate to other affective phenomena, such as moral anger, hatred, and love? In this paper, I argue that religious zeal can be both, and be presented and interpreted as both, a love-like passion and an anger-like emotion. As a passion, religious zeal consists of the loving devotion to a transcendent religious object or idea such as God. It is a relatively enduring attachment that is constitutive of who the (...) zealot is, and it expresses itself in a distinctive set of mental and behavioral dispositions. Most importantly, it motivates uncompromising actions and involves intense, hot, and deep emotions. As an anger-like emotion, religious zeal is an occurrent affective state of mind that is intentionally directed towards a specific object, characteristically a person or group of persons. It condemns the violation of a religious norm that is taken to be of absolute validity and general applicability. It motivates an action aiming at vengeance and retaliation, and it involves intense and hot feelings of hostility towards its object. I argue that rather than reducing the complex phenomenon of religious zeal to one of these two manifestations, we should reflect upon the question of how the two distinct conceptualizations relate to each other. (shrink)

1st English translation: "The Philosophy of Inequality" is a significiant and passionately intense work by the eminent Russian religious philosopher, Nicholas Berdyaev (1874-1948), written in the early months following the 1917 Communist Revolution in Russia. It was published only later in 1923 in Berlin, following his expulsion from Russia. With his perspective of a personalist existentialism and philosophy of freedom, Berdyaev voices a powerful critique of societal myths and mentalities that lead to a crushing totalitarian control over life, not only (...) Russia then, but now also for our contemporary world. The present volume also includes the 1st English translation of Berdyaev's 1918 article, "Spirits of the Russian Revolution: Gogol/Dostoevsky/L. Tolstoy," which traces the prophetic literary motifs reflected in the Soviet Communist Russian Revolution. The present volume likewise includes the addition of an intensive chapter by the translator, addressing Berdyaev's Religio-Philosophic thought in its connection to aspects of Orthodox Christian theological insights, in an attempt to validate N. A. Berdyaev as indeed verymost an Orthodox Christian philosopher. (shrink)

Taste is a lyric meditation on one of our five senses, which we often take for granted. Structured as a series of “small bites,” the book considers the ways that we ingest the world, how we come to know ourselves and others through the daily act of tasting. Through flavorful explorations of the sweet, the sour, the salty, the bitter, and umami, Jehanne Dubrow reflects on the nature of taste. In a series of short, interdisciplinary essays, she blends personal experience (...) with analysis of poetry, fiction, music, and the visual arts, as well as religious and philosophical texts. Dubrow considers the science of taste and how taste transforms from a physical sensation into a metaphor for discernment. Taste is organized not so much as a linear dinner served in courses but as a meal consisting of meze, small plates of intensely flavored discourse. (shrink)

In this article, I conduct a selective reading of Difference and Repetition that intertwines with The Logic of Sense, specifically in relation to the concept of paradox, underscoring how Deleuze's work itself is a performance of the necessity of paradoxical thinking and the insistence on an image of thought which incorporates paradox as its central feature. I argue that para-sense anticipates the centrality of paradox in Logic of Sense, just as the obscure, unilluminated element of Ideas anticipates the significance of (...) non-sense for the proliferation of sense therein. Likewise, the dark precursor as that which enables communication between different kinds bears a resemblance to the idea of the quasi-cause that we find in The Logic of Sense. Paradox, the paradoxical instant and para-sense, as figures which help us to cultivate and maintain the discordant relations of passion to thought, the corporeal and incorporeal, and word and thing, unfix our thinking so that we can allow ourselves to be more thoroughly immersed in the multiplicities and intensities that surround us. This is the possibility of a kind of doubling that is not based on the sterility of representation, but rather the genitality of learning and proliferation of sense. (shrink)