This chapter contains sections titled: Philosophical Prohibitions Religious Arguments A Defense of Altered States Cannabis in Particular.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Rembrandt BookProfessor Emeritus John Adkins RichardsonThe Rembrandt Book by Gary Schwartz. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2006, 384 pp. $40.95, cloth.This truly is the Rembrandt book. Substantial in every way, it is physically imposing, magnificently printed on heavy, glossy stock and profusely illustrated with splendid color reproductions of all the master’s major works and many sketches and preparatory drawings, as well as etchings and dry-point engravings. Gary (...) Schwartz, who studied art history at New York University and Johns Hopkins University, is now living in the Netherlands. The merits of his book are enormous. Not only is it filled with magnificent reproductions, there are tables and graphs detailing such things as the number of Rembrandt paintings in catalogues from 1836 to 1992; analyses of the artist’s borrowings and adaptations in five-year periods; key dates in the life of the man; Rembrandt’s relation to the forms of sale for paintings in the Dutch seventeenth century; and so on. There is even a computer rendering of the famous depiction of Captain Banning Cocq’s Company of Guards at the Gates of Amsterdam (popularly called The Night Watch), specifying the weapons shown and identifying all present, either by name and title or by a description, such as “girl in gold and blue,” “pikeman,” “musketeer,” etc.A sampling of the chapter headings and subcategories suggests just how comprehensive is Schwartz’s treatment: 1. Introduction, 2. A Dutch Artist’s Life, 3. Family, Loved Ones, Households, 4. Craft, 5. Earning and Spending, 6. Patrons, 7. Landscape, 8. Humankind, 9. Man and God. Just the specifics of the last chapter are remarkably capacious: Holy Family; Christ’s Ministry; Passion, Death and Afterlife; Divine Intervention; Holy People; Moral Examples from the Old Testament; The Man of God, Simeon; Afterlife; and Rembrandt as a Christian Rhetorician of the Brush. It’s hard to imagine a better reference for the lay reader than The Rembrandt Book.The book is also full of interesting contrasts of opinion as well as some surprising remarks. As for one of the latter, Schwartz writes that Rembrandt’s “portraits are said to be more ‘psychological’ than those of his contemporaries. What this might mean I frankly do not understand” (213). He goes on to note that the field of psychology did not exist in Rembrandt’s time. However, from long before its invention people spoke of Rembrandt’s ability to reveal the soul of the sitter. Indeed, the reason I was not surprised, although somewhat distressed, when the Rembrandt Research Project—a group of connoisseurs set up in 1969 with the explicit charge of authenticating all works ascribed to the master—announced in 1985 that The Man with a Golden Helmet in Berlin was not by the master at all, was that I had all along been troubled by this face that lacked the quality of animation in repose so [End Page 115] characteristic of Rembrandt portraits. Schwartz thinks the artist would have to have relied upon the ancient theory of the humors to do “characterological descriptions” of his sitters, and that in portraiture, “such characterizations would quickly resemble caricatures.” And, indeed, they do, but in profoundly subtle ways, much as someone like the popular illustrator Norman Rockwell employed tiny caricature-like distortions to project a kind of homely Americanism. I’m not comparing Rockwell to Rembrandt but choosing a realistic illustrator in whose work the trick is more apparent. Caricature can be as broad as it is in Jacques Callot, William Hogarth, or Honoré Daumier and yet be a feature of true art. Or so it seems to me, admittedly, a sometimes cartoonist as well as painter and engraver.Schwartz’s completeness of coverage leads him to include, in addition to superb drawings and prints, some that are so careless and hasty as to make one doubt their authenticity. One of the works of marginal quality is an etching of Six’s Bridge, which is said to have been created outdoors, hastily, on the site. This is a hotly debated issue. Rembrandt is known to have carried “varnished”—that is, grounded—copper etching plates, so there wouldn’t seem much reason to... (shrink)

The project of this chapter is to examine how two key figures of the Scottish Enlightenment—Francis Hutcheson and Thomas Reid—think of the role of reason and passion in moral judgment. According to a standard way of categorizing these figures, Hutcheson is a sentimentalist, while Reid is a rationalist. Although this categorization can be illuminating in certain respects, it also distorts both Hutcheson’s and Reid’s views. For a close reading of both these men reveals that their views are more (...) eclectic than many have supposed. Hutcheson’s views have much more in common with the rationalists while Reid’s views have much more in common with the sentimentalists. (shrink)

This book traces the genealogy of ideas of reason, self and sexuality in the West, opening the way to a richer and more diverse understanding of sexual experience. Western philosophy and religion have distorted and continue to distort our experience of sex and love through three far-reaching constellations of reason, self and sexuality. Thinkers like Plato, Aquinas and Kant helped to fashion an ascetic ideal of reason hostile to bodily pleasures and sexual diversity. By contrast, philosophical hedonism (...) advocates a less demanding conception of rationality and defends sexual pleasure. But this approach of thinkers like Hume, Bentham, La Mettrie and de Sade is still one-sided and limiting. A third constellation, Romanticism avoids the limitations of both forms of rationalism, but in the name of a religion of love and passion that ultimately threatens the integrity of the self. In Reason and Sexuality in Western Thought, a richer understanding of sexual experience is traced to a dissident philosophical tradition. In their different ways Montaigne, Spinoza, Hegel and Kierkegaard, Marcuse and Foucault contribute to a more holistic, multi-layered and open conception of reason, sexuality and the self. This book will be essential reading for all students of philosophy and gender studies. (shrink)

Reason has regularly been portrayed and understood in terms of images and metaphors that involve the exclusion or denigration of some element-body, passion, nature, instinct-that is cast as "feminine." Drawing upon philosophical insight into metaphor, I examine the impact of this gendering of reason. I argue that our conceptions of mind, reason, unreason, female, and male have been distorted. The politics of "rational" discourse has been set up in ways that still subtly but powerfully inhibit the (...) voice and agency of women. (shrink)

Louis Charland's ‘Technological reason and the regulation of emotion’ focuses on a specific area, that of the emotions, in which he sees a problematic dominance of the technical attitude. He argues that our technologically oriented psychiatry has taken an instrumentalist approach to regulation of emotion that severely limits and distorts the role of emotion in psychiatric practice. A prominent example is the exclusion of moral judgments and values, emotion-laden aspects of experience, from psychotherapy because they do not fit the (...) technical model. To illustrate his point, Charland both contrasts the modern notion of emotion with the traditional notion of passion, and our contemporary practice of technically regulated emotion with the ‘moral treatment’ of the nineteenth century. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:BENEDICT, THOMAS, OR AUGUSTINE? THE CHARACTER OF MACINTYRE'S NARRATIVE CHRISTOPHER J. THOMPSON University of St. Thomas St. Paul, Minnesota Introduction I N HIS Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry1 Alasdair Macintyre continues (with certain modifications) in a similar trajectory established in two earlier works, After Virtue and Whose Justice? Which Rationality? Against postEnlightenment portraits of moral reasoning, he consistently defends a conception of practical rationality which entails the recognition (...) of tradition, authority, and narrative as constitutive components of any rationally determined moral enquiry. Despite the consistent appeal to tradition, there is a significant development within Macintyre's reflections regarding the pre-eminent resources we are to draw upon. At the end of After Virtue we are asked to await a "doubtless very different" St. Benedict. In Whose Justice? Which Rationality? the Thomistic tradition emerges as the superior form of moral enquiry. While Thomism maintains a pre-eminence in Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry, I suggest that there is an increasingly Augustinian element emerging within his analysis and that this dimension underlies Macintyre's efforts in ways not previously specified. There is a warrant, then, for seeing within Augustine's efforts the paradigmatic "narrative form of moral enquiry." 1Alasdair Macintyre, Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1990). Hereafter RV. 379 380 CHRISTOPHER J. THOMPSON That Augustine figures in Macintyre's reception of the Thomistic tradition is not necessarily striking, for part of what fuels Macintyre's increasing enthusiasm for St. Thomas is precisely the latter's capacity to draw upon the best of the Augustinian tradition of enquiry. Beyond what Macintyre himself has overtly recognized as Augustine's contribution to the thought of St. Thomas, however, I suggest that elements of Augustine's thought directly influence much of Macintyre 's own attempts at restoring a kind of tradition-guided enquiry. This Augustinian strain, moreover, not only serves to highlight features of Macintyre's analysis of Thomism, but also brings to light certain theological presuppositions essential to the kind of moral enquiry Macintyre hopes to retrieve. The character of Macintyre's narrative, then, leads us to St. Augustine. In After Virtue it is largely the Aristotelian tradition of enquiry which he defends against rival post-Enlightenment theories of morality. He argues that the analytic, linguistic, and phenomenological tools brought to bear upon the task of formulating a coherent conception of the moral life and moral enquiry have failed miserably, principally for two reasons. The first is that such contemporary efforts have neglected to realize that moral enquiry is embedded in a broader context of social practices, practices which are inevitably historically conditioned; thus a failure to recognize the historically situated character of moral enquiry distorts that account. The second reason is related to the first in that failure to acknowledge the historical character of such enquiry has resulted in a failure to recognize that much of our contemporary terms and tools of moral analysis are remnants from previous contexts of enquiry which are no longer mutually agreed upon nor recognized as relevant.' What has been lost, among other things, is the teleological metaphysics which serves as the context for nearly two millennia in the West. Uproot the stock of ethical norms from this tradition 2 For this notion of "moral remnants" surviving beyond the historical contexts in which they emerge, see Alasdair Macintyre, "Ought," Chapter 15 in Against the Self Images ofthe Age (New York: Schocken Books, 1971), 136-156, though in a different context and with very different effect. THE CHARACTER OF MACINTYRE 'S NARRATIVE 381 of enquiry and what remains is simply an amalgam of unrelated moral demands-some divinely sanctioned, some rooted in the passions, some the outburst of emotive whimsy-yet all lacking any coherent exposition.' The only hope is to retrieve something of the Aristotelian tradition of moral enquiry in which the notion of the virtues and the virtuous human person entails a conception of the moral life as bearing a narrative unity, a teleologically ordered whole in which one's actions bear an intrinsic unity and significance to the extent they complement one's telos. The narrative unity ascribed to the living of the good life is... (shrink)

Louis Charland's ‘Technological reason and the regulation of emotion’ focuses on a specific area, that of the emotions, in which he sees a problematic dominance of the technical attitude. He argues that our technologically oriented psychiatry has taken an instrumentalist approach to regulation of emotion that severely limits and distorts the role of emotion in psychiatric practice. A prominent example is the exclusion of moral judgments and values, emotion-laden aspects of experience, from psychotherapy because they do not fit the (...) technical model. To illustrate his point, Charland both contrasts the modern notion of emotion with the traditional notion of passion, and our contemporary practice of technically regulated emotion with the ‘moral treatment’ of the nineteenth century. (shrink)

IN THIS PAPER I shall try to exhibit certain interconnections within and between the "dialectical stages" of self-consciousness and active reason which appear not to have been noticed by Hegel scholars. I take as my text Hegel's remark, in a letter to Schelling dated May 1, 1807, that "the whole" of the Phenomenology is "by its nature" an "interlocking hither and thither." The more closely one studies the Phenomenology, the more clearly one can see that its parts--even those which (...) are widely separated--do indeed "interlock.". (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Converging Ways? Conversion and Belonging in Buddhism and ChrisitanityCatherine CornilleConverging Ways? Conversion and Belonging in Buddhism and Chrisitanity. By John D’Arcy May. Sankt Ottilien: EOS Klosterverlag, 2007. 207 pp.In the course of the past seven years, the European Network of Buddhist-Christian Studies has established itself as a locus of serious dialogue and creative religious reflection. This volume, which emerged out of the sixth conference (in 2005) at the (...) Benedictine Abbey of St. Ottilien in Germany, combines a diversity of contributions on various issues relating to conversion, religious belonging, and multiple religious belonging. At the heart of the volume are two responses (by Christian theologian Perry Schmidt-Leukel and Buddhist theologian José Cabezón) to the highly publicized conversion of Paul Williams from Tantric Buddhism to Roman Catholicism, followed by a reply by Williams himself. These three articles represent a powerful demonstration of religious apologetics at its best. Each offers their critique of the other from a clearly defined religious position, displaying a clear understanding of the views of the other, but arguing unabashedly for the validity or superiority of their own position or theological convictions. Somewhat missing in the reading is an account of Williams’s conversion story, which he developed in An Unexpected Way. But each of the discussants offers a clear enough account of the other so that even those who have not read the book are able to reconstruct the main points of Williams’s narrative and arguments. Against Williams, who juxtaposes Buddhist atheism with Christian theism, Schmidt-Leukel proposes a conception of the absolute which he believes is amenable to both, but which—as Williams later argues—may be representative of neither. Cabezón, for his part, focuses not only on Williams’s theological arguments, but also on his ethical arguments for the superiority of Christianity, objecting that the black-and-white picture presented in a conversion narrative often entails a distortion or oversimplification of the tradition left behind, and pointing to the importance of interconnection and love in Buddhist texts and traditions. While conceding the latter, Williams, in his retort, passionately and eloquently reiterates his arguments for the plausibility of the Christian conception of God, countering one by one the points raised by his respondents. In this, he draws almost exclusively on Thomas Aquinas, which gives power and focus to his arguments but also seems to ignore the presence of other theological voices within the Christian and Roman Catholic tradition. This exercise in apologetics is interesting, not only because of the contents of the arguments, but also because of the tone. While Williams pays heed to Cabezón, [End Page 161] who approaches his conversion from a clearly defined Buddhist perspective, he seems less respectful of the position of Schmidt-Leukel, who attempts to reconcile Buddhist and Christian views of God. The reasons why such reconciliations are unappealing for someone who has converted from the one religion to the other may be many. But it certainly points to the tensions between clear commitment and belonging to a particular religious and theological tradition and the rhetoric of multiple religious belonging.This brings us to some of the other articles collected in this volume. Some focus on the lived reality of multiple belonging in Korea (Thomas Timpte) or in Sweden (Kajsa Ahlstrand) while others focus on personal experience (Thomas Josef Gotz and Ruben Habito) or on the religious or theological grounds for multiple religious belonging (Jorgen Skov Sorensen and Michael von Bruck). All of these contributions point to the reality or the ideality of belonging to more than one religious tradition. It would appear that in the context of religious diversity, such multiple belonging is all but unavoidable. While some point to the false construction of religious boundaries, others dismiss all notions of religious and theological superiority as well as the centrality of truth in religion. In contrast with this, the robust theological debate on matters of truth and difference at the heart of this volume offers a healthy counterbalance and a welcome reminder of the categorical and at times conflicting claims to truth in religion. If religions are taken seriously, multiple religious identity is less evident than sociological data... (shrink)

The story of Medea has exerted a powerful influence on creative artists since the time of Euripides. It is a tale that has been told in many ways and in several genres. This article offers a discussion of Christa Wolf's 1996 novel, Medea.Stimmen (Medea. Voices), a modern retelling through the voices, and conflicting perspectives, of the major characters involved with Medea, including Jason, Agameda, Akamas, Leukon, Glauce and Medea herself.Medea's role within feminist literary reception (...) and women's literature cannot be overlooked because of the crucial archetype she represents. One task of Feminist criticism has been to expose, deconstruct and rectify prevalent male (mis) interpretations of female archetypes, such as Medea, Medusa and others, and the patriarchal distortions they introduced through 3 000 years of male literature. In the patriarchal realm, Medea represents the Witch, the black Sorceress, and the archetype of the Negative Mother. These negative interpretations or archetypes may be attributed to misogynist perceptions of Medea as the vilest of women, because she committed the most despicable of all crimes — killing her children, the patriarchy's heirs — to take revenge on Jason, the husband who abandons her in Corinth (her place of exile) to marry Glauce, King Creon of Corinth's daughter, for reasons of political expedience.As a writer with her roots in the former East-German regime, Wolf perceives the Medea story as an account of a woman with both extraordinary powers and human shortcomings, who is misunderstood by the Colchians and the Corinthians alike. Wolf explores the distorted patriarchal motives for their loathing of Medea and Medea's ultimate powerlessness to do anything more than accept her tragic destiny. In doing so, Wolf does not attempt to manipulate the Medea story to suit the one-sidedness of some more radical feminist ideologies. (shrink)

Based upon a study of arguments in the Treatise and the Enquiry, this work proposes a theory of motivation and of the making of moral judgements which defends much of John Hume's sentimentalism. However the author also argues for an equal partnership view of reason and feeling.

Available from UMI in association with The British Library. ;Is reason the slave of the passions? In Part I it is argued that neither the humean nor the kantian answers to this question can be maintained simpliciter. Each side of the controversy has to make significant concessions to the other. One consequence of this is that humean and kantian approaches to action are less clearly distinguished than might initially be supposed. ;In Part II several central notions are examined. The (...) idea of a pre-rational motive is rejected, as is the view that desires can be divided into motivated and unmotivated. The assumption that reason in action always takes the form of deductive argument is also rejected. An alternative view is presented that reason in action is to be understood in terms of the process of questioning a person's motives. There is no specific point which must always mark the termination of such a process. The circumstances in which questioning takes place are at least as important as the form answers to questions take. ;This implies that both the humean and kantian accounts of morality are unacceptable as complete moral theories. Moral deadlock does not result solely from conflicts of wants or of understanding. Equally it is not explicable in terms of different cultures. Different ways we talk of virtue reveal both humean and kantian strands in our moral thinking. Also the idea of moral progress reveals a kantian related notion of the form of a person's motives as a guide to changing for the better. (shrink)

This sense of attributability, or internality, is the quarry in many of Frankfurt's articles, and it has proved to be an elusive one. In this paper I want to explore, in a tentative fashion, the question of why we should be interested in finding this quarry. It seems to me that there are at least two quite distinct kinds of reason for this concern, and that when they are distinguished the problem may look less difficult than it has seemed.

Isaiah Berlin was one of the greatest thinkers of the twentieth century - a man who set ideas on fire. His defence of liberty and plurality was passionate and persuasive and inspired a generation. His ideas - especially his reasoned rejection of excessive certainty and political despotism - have become even more prescient and vital today.But who was the man behind such influential views? In Search of Isaiah Berlin tells the compelling story of a decades-long collaboration between Berlin and his (...) editor, Henry Hardy, who made it his vocation to bring Berlin's huge body of work into print. Hardy discovered that Berlin had written far more than people thought, much of it unpublished. As he describes his struggles with Berlin, who was almost on principle unwilling to have his work published, an intimate and revealing picture of the self-deprecating philosopher emerges. This is a unique portrait of a man who gave us a new way of thinking about the human predicament, and whose work had for most of his life remained largely out of view. (shrink)

Action, reason, and causes in Kant -- Can we act without feelings? Respect, sympathy and other forms of love -- A place for affects and passion in the Kantian system -- What can Kant teach us about emotions? -- Physiology and the controlling of affects in Kant's philosophy -- Virtue as a cure for affects and passions -- The beautiful and the good: refinement as an introduction to morality -- Women and emotion -- Evil and passion -- (...) An emotional Kant? (shrink)

Troubling Reason: Notes from Underground Revisited -- Love, Attention and Teaching: The Brothers Karamazov -- Passion as a Quality of Education: The Death of Ivan Ilyich -- Education, Rationality and the Meaning of Life: Tolstoy's Confession -- Pedagogy of the Gaze: An Educational Reading of Lolita -- Education Arrayed in Time: Nabokov and the Problem of Time and Space -- Conclusion: Literature, Philosophy and Education.

Though erotic metaphors for philosophical understanding abound throughout Plato's dialogues, they have not received serious critical attention from philosophers in relation to Plato's moral psychology and epistemology. This dissertation argues that in claiming that the philosopher feels eros for the objects of knowledge, Plato is not merely speaking metaphorically, but is advancing a developed theory, according to which understanding is intimately connected to desire. This is significant to contemporary philosophical concerns, because it presents a psychologically rich account of knowledge, which (...) emphasizes the role of reason as a source of desire and motivational force. ;In its core sense, eros is the irrational desire for sexual pleasure, but in the Symposium, Plato argues that eros is actually a far wider phenomenon, the desire for completion. Though eros is typically expressed through the attempt to reproduce or gain fame, its demands are best resolved through the philosopher's relationship to the form of beauty. In entering into an epistemic relation with the form, the philosopher engages with an object that is perfect and immortal; in turning outside of himself, he loses a preoccupation with his own finitude. At the same time, the philosopher's eros for the forms has an imbalancing effect on his psyche: in focusing on the pursuit of knowledge, he ignores the needs of the lower parts of his soul. Paradoxically, though the philosopher forsakes the demands of internal rule for the sake of contemplation, in forgetting the lower parts of his soul, he inadvertently diminishes their power, furthering the end of self-mastery. Philosophic eros belongs solely to the rational part of the soul; in calling understanding erotic, Plato is suggesting that it is not merely an intellectual experience, but that it is also an emotional, aesthetic and desiderative experience. The philosopher is motivated to seek knowledge of the forms because of their beauty, and in apprehending them, he comes to desire to investigate them further and to model himself on them. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume Studies Volume 29, Number 2, November 2003, pp. 205-221 The Origin of the Indirect Passions in the Treatise: An Analogy between Books 1 and 2 HARUKOINOUE 1. The Analogy Between Book 1 and Book 2 If the central design of the Treatise is to demonstrate that "the subjects of the Understanding and Passions make a complete chain of reasoning by themselves" (T 2; SBN xii), as Hume advertises, (...) it seems unquestionable that his intention lies in the illustration of the human mind as an integrated system dependent upon the cooperation of the understanding and the passions, which are discussed separately in Book 1 and Book 2, respectively.1 What is yet to be determined is whether any internal or systematic connection between these two books was originally intended by the author. Is it too fanciful to agree with John Passmore, and to suggest that some dynamic system of the human mind would emerge when we open the door which stands between the first two books?2 The key for this door seems to be found in Hume's account of personal identity. We may well remember how he distinguished two aspects of our identity, one regarding the understanding and another regarding the passions, and claimed that the latter "serves to corroborate" the former "by the making our distant perceptions influence each other, and by giving us a present concern for our past or future pains or pleasures" (T 1.4.6.19; SBN Haruko Inoue is Professor of Philosophy, Sapporo University 3-7-3-1 Toyohira-ku, Sapporo 062-8520, Japan. e-mail: [email protected] 206 Haruko Inoue 261). It seems reasonable to agree with Jane Mclntyre, who suggests that "Hume recognized questions about personal identity not addressed in Book 1, and that Book 2 makes an important contribution to our understanding of Hume's account of the self and its identity."3 And once we get a good understanding of this integrated mechanism of the human mind operating with both wheels, as it were, of the imagination and the passions, all we have to do is to accept his invitation and enjoy the efficiency of this two-wheeled car, driving through the fields of "Morals, Politics, and Criticism." For, if we take his words in his Advertisement seriously,4 it seems quite likely that the Treatise was published first as a set of Book 1 and Book 2, as Passmore suggests,5 and that Book 3 was written as the demonstration of the consistency of his system through the application of the hypothesis established in the first two books. This paper is a modest attempt to illustrate the intimate connection between Book 1 and Book 2: the latter, planned as a proof and reinforcement of the system Hume had established in Book 1, depends on the former. His basic strategy in the Treatise is to explain both systems of the mind by means of the easy transition of the imagination, which connects different perceptions with each other according to two kinds of principles or "properties of human nature " (T 2.1.4.2; SBN 283), viz. "the association both of impressions and ideas, and the mutual assistance they lend each other" (T 2.1.5.5; SBN 284). In Book 1 Hume establishes the system of the understanding in terms of the first association, viz. the association of ideas, and in Book 2 he proceeds to illustrate the system of passions by involving not only the second association but also the concurrence of both kinds of association which he calls "a double relation of impressions and ideas." His basic strategy is thus to apply the same method of reasoning to the illustration of both systems, assuming that "there is an attraction or association among impressions, as well as among ideas" (T 2.1.4.3; SBN 283). The intimate connection between the two systems of the understanding and the passions is illustrated through the demonstration of the "influence of the imagination upon the passions" (T 2.3.6.1; SBN 424), or in terms of the dependence of the latter on the former. It is owing to the dependence of the association of... (shrink)

This essay challenges a growing consensus among Aquinas scholars who attribute to him a pro-passion attitude, linking his virtue theory to accounts of emotion that see the emotions in a primarily positive light. There are good reasons for thinking Aquinas far more skeptical of the role to be played by emotion in the virtuous life—indeed, one can safely argue, in agreement with Aquinas, that the emotions are often threats to and so in need of control by the virtues. I (...) focus on the ideal of reason’s control over the emotions in the essay in contrast with the work of Robert Miner whose understanding of Aquinas on the passions and virtues tends to downplay the dominating role that reason plays in the moral theory of Aquinas. For Aquinas IRC is central to the normativity of the virtues that relate to the emotions. In contrast, Miner appears to minimize the need for the emotions to be controlled, which entails a certain elevation of the emotions to a nearly co-equal status with reason in Aquinas’s moral theory. Miner adopts two argumentative strategies to achieve this valorization of emotion in Aquinas, but I find both exegetically inaccurate and experientially deficient. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Robert C. Solomon IN DEFENSE OF SENTIMENTALITY "A sentimentalist is simply one who desires to have the luxury of an emotion without paying for it." —Oscar Wilde, De Profundis. 66TA That's Wrong with Sentimentality?"1 That tide of Mark JefV V ferson's 1983 Mindessay already indicates a great deal notonly about the gist of his article but about a century-old prejudice that has been devastating to ethics and literature alike. (...) According to that prejudice, it goes without saying that there is something wrong with it, even if it is difficult to put one's finger on it. To be called "sentimental" is to be ridiculed, or dismissed. Sentimentality is a weakness, it suggests hypocrisy. Or, perhaps it is the fact that sentimental people are so... so embarrassing. (How awkward it is talking or sitting next to someone weeping or gushing, when one is dry-eyed and somber.) Or, perhaps it is the well-confirmed fact that sentimentalists have such poor taste, and sentimental literature is, above all, literature that is cheap, superficial, and manipulative—in other words, verbal kitsch. Such mawkish literature jerks tears from otherwise sensible readers, and sentimentalists are those who actually enjoy that humiliating experience. Perhaps that is why Oscar Wilde thought that sentimentalists were really cynics ("Sentimentality is merely the bank holiday of cynicism").2 Or, perhaps what bothers us is what bothered Michael Tanner, that sentimental people indulge themselves in their feelings instead of doing what should be done.3 It is often said that the problem is that sentimentality and sentimental literature alike give us a false view of the world, distort our thinking and substitute a "saccharine" portrait of the world in place ofwhat we all know to be the horrible realities. Moreover, as Jefferson more than merely suggests, the "simple-minded sympathies " ofsentimentality might actually promote fascism and racism. Mary Midgley similarly suggests that sentimentality leads to brutality.4 But Philosophy and Literature, © 1990, 14: 304-323 Robert C. Solomon305 even where sentimentality is a harmless diversion—a Daphne du Maurier novel on a sad Saturday afternoon—it seems to be all but agreed that sentimentality is no virtue even ifit is not, like cruelty and hypocrisy, intrinsically vicious. Something is wrong with sentimentality; the only question is, what is it that is wrong? In this essay, I will argue that there is nothing wrong with sentimentality. Of course, like any quasi-ethical category, it admits of unwarranted excesses and hypocritical abuses, and is prone to various pathological distortions. But the prejudice against sentimentality, I want to argue, is ill-founded and in fact is an extension ofthat all-too-familiar contempt for the passions in Western literature and philosophy. Our disdain for sentimentality is the rationalist's discomfort with any display of emotion, warranted as well as unwarranted, appropriate as well as inappropriate. It is as ifthe very word, "sentimentality," has been loaded with the connotations of "too much"—too much feeling and too litde common sense and rationality, as if these were opposed instead of mutually supportive. It is as if sentimentality and its sentiments are never warranted and always inappropriate. The word has come to be used as the name of a deficiency or a weakness if not, as some critics have written, a malaise. But I take sentimentality to be nothing more nor less than the "appeal to tender feelings," and though one can manipulate and abuse such feelings (including one's own), and though they can on occasion be misdirected or excessive, there is nothing wrong with them as such and hence nothing (in that respect) wrong with literature that provokes us, that "moves" us, to abstract affection or weeping. Sentimentality implies no deficiency in one's rational faculties and does not imply any inappropriateness, unwillingness, or lack of readiness to act. Sentimentality does not involve any distortion of the world and it does not impede but rather prepares and motivates us to react in "the real world." It is not an escape from reality or responsibility, but, quite to the contrary, provides the precondition for ethical engagement rather than an obstacle to it. Historically, I want to trace the fate of sentimentality to... (shrink)

A survey of theories on the passions and action in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Britain and western Europe reveals that few, if any, of the major writers held the view that reason in any of its functions executes action without a passion. Even rationalists, like Cambridge Platonist Ralph Cudworth and English clergyman Samuel Clarke, recognized the necessity of passion to action. On the other hand, many of these intellectuals also agreed with French philosophers Jean-François Senault, René Descartes, and (...) Nicolas Malebranche that, for passions to be useful or to become virtues, they must be governed by reason. Without the moderation of reason, passions will be unruly, distort our notions of good, and disrupt our rational volitions. In response to these popular early modern perspectives, Enlightenment thinker David Hume offered a now-famous argument that reason without passion cannot motivate, drawing the further conclusion that reason cannot govern the passions, either. Given that no one in Hume’s era seemed to defend the claim that reason alone can motivate action, what was Hume’s intention? (shrink)

The role of passion and more generally irrational elements in processing knowledge are discussed. This seems to be a paradox, as science by definition is beyond passion. At the same time science is the expression of a culture. This paradox is examined through the experience and work of crucial figures in physics such as Newton and Einstein. Science is a dialogue between man and nature: part of the search for the transcendental which is common to many cultural activities: (...) art, music, literature. Our time is one of expectation, anxiety, and bifurcation. Far from there being an ?end? of science, our period will see the birth of a new vision, a new science whose cornerstone encloses the arrow of time: a science that makes us and our creativity the expression of a fundamental trend in the universe. (shrink)

Although Hume’s theory of the passions has been vigorously criticized by contemporary philosophers, Hume’s immediate successors are seldom credited with serious criticisms of that theory. In fact, insofar as their views are considered at all, they typically are summarily dismissed. Alasdair MacIntyre’s treatment is a good illustration.

Generally speaking, there are two ways to oppose another philosopher's view. You can argue against it—for example, by finding counterexamples, showing that it entails various unpalatable or absurd conclusions, or by raising objections to the arguments offered in its support. Or you can offer an alternative account of the issue in question. These two sorts of responses are, of course, complementary, and Hume uses both in his attempt to reveal the errors of traditional approaches to ethics. While Hume's negative arguments (...) against rationalist moral theories—including the related attacks on the role of reason in motivation and in our moral judgments —are justly famous, they have been criticized on a number of grounds. Hume has been charged with mischaracterizing the position of his rationalist opponents, with violating some of his own positions on the structure of reason and the passions, and with relying on ad hoc replies to objections he anticipates will be brought against his own arguments. (shrink)

This essay presents William Wainwright’s conception of religious reasoning. He rejects the view that proper reasoning in religion must be limited to “neutral technical reason” (NTR), modes of reasoning that are neutral and acceptable to all parties in a religious disagreement. He emphasizes that religious reasoning, as seen in outstanding practitioners from different religious traditions, incorporates additional elements, such as appeals to revelation, emphasis on religious reading, rhetoric, acknowledgment of mystery, and especially “passional reason,” in which the arguments (...) presented and the conclusions accepted depend essentially on the state of the reasoner’s heart. The essay goes on to consider how Wainwright deals with issues surrounding religious diversity: he rejects all of the standard methods by which it has been argued that differences in belief between traditions either do not really exist or do not ultimately matter. Special attention is given to religious pluralism, as advocated by John Hick and Peter Byrne. This leads to a consideration of exclusivism, in which it is held that the fundamental doctrines of one religion are true, and those of other religions, insofar as they differ from those of the favored religion, are false. Wainwright finds the standard objections against exclusivism to be ineffective or inconclusive. Finally, the essay addresses a question suggested but not resolved by Wainwright’s work: Does religious diversity have the consequence that truth in religion is not accessible to us? (shrink)

Johannes Corrodi Katzenstein offers a contribution to the current debate on Kierkegaard, mostly concerning the rationality of religious belief and the presumed religious neutrality (autonomy) of philosophical and scientific thought. More specifically, his book is an attempt to relate Kierkegaard's theory of the stages of life (aesthetic, ethical, religious) to issues that have been of utmost concern to Anglo-American (analytical) philosophy, such as the nature of truth, rational knowledge, objectivity, etc. From this angle, Kierkegaard turns out to be not the (...) irrationalist he has often been made into but rather the outspoken witness of a passion that guides all thinking, i.e. the passion to think what cannot be thought. An attempt is made to show that for Kierkegaard, anticipating some of the arguments of contemporary postsecular philosophy, the ideal of pure or autonomous reason inevitably has its basis in a pre-rational, often tacit commitment to an origin whose primary home is in religious faith. Rather than precluding dialogue, awareness of these deeper forces and starting-points of our various philosophical and scientific outlooks is a critical requirement for mutual understanding between secularist and religious perspectives and traditions competing for cultural and political dominance. (shrink)

Edward Said was a versatile intellectual, anchored in a solid humanistic culture, who, in his career as a public figure as a university Professor at Columbia, placed at the center of his reflections the sense of commitment of the man of culture. His multifaceted education and his interests are the summit of an attention to the generative issues of pedagogical and educational culture, aimed at redefining a new “radical humanism.” For Said, however, the commitment and careful examination of texts and (...) reality can only pass through an effort of critical thinking, capable of acquiring its own autonomy of judgment and, for this reason, point out and highlight the differences of all forms of power and coercion. (shrink)

Santayana argues that instinct and imagination are crucial to the emergence of reason from chaos. Santayana's Life of Reason, published in five books from 1905 to 1906, ranks as one of the greatest works in modern philosophical naturalism. Acknowledging the natural material bases of human life, Santayana traces the development of the human capacity for appreciating and cultivating the ideal. It is a capacity he exhibits as he articulates a continuity running through animal impulse, practical intelligence, and ideal (...) harmony in reason, society, art, religion, and science. The work is an exquisitely rendered vision of human life lived sanely. In this first book of the work, Santayana provides an account of how the human animal develops instinct, passion, and chaotic experience into rationality and ideal life. Inspired by Aristotle's De Anima, Darwin's evolutionary theory, and William James's The Principles of Psychology, Santayana contends that the requirements of action in a hazardous and uncertain environment are the sources of the development of mind. More specifically, instinct and imagination are crucial to the emergence of reason from chaos. Separating himself from the typical thought of the time by his recognition of the imagination, Santayana in this volume offers extensive critiques of various philosophies of mind, including those of Kant and the British empiricists. This Critical Edition, volume VII of The Works of George Santayana, includes a chronology, notes, bibliography, textual commentary, lists of variants, and other tools useful to Santayana scholars. The other four books of the volume include Reason in Society, Reason in Religion, Reason in Art, and Reason in Science. (shrink)

Between the opposing claims of reason and religious subjectivity may be a middle ground, William J. Wainwright argues. His book is a philosophical reflection on the role of emotion in guiding reason. There is evidence, he contends, that reason functions properly only when informed by a rightly disposed heart. The idea of passional reason, so rarely discussed today, once dominated religious reflection, and Wainwright pursues it through the writings of three of its past proponents: Jonathan Edwards, (...) John Henry Newman, and William James. He focuses on Edwards, whose work typifies the Christian perspective on religious reasoning and the heart. Then, in his discussion of Newman and James, Wainwright shows how the emotions participate in non-religious reasoning. Finally he takes up the challenges most often posed to notions of passional reason: that such views justify irrationality and wishful thinking, that they can't be defended without circularity, and that they lead to relativism. His response to these charges culminates in an eloquent and persuasive defense of the claim that reason functions best when influenced by the appropriate emotions, feelings, and intuitions. (shrink)

Persons and passions : an introduction / Christopher Williams What are the passions doing in the Meditations? / Lisa Shapiro Love in the ruins : passion in Descartes’ Meditations / William Beardsley The passionate intellect : reading the opposition of reason and emotions in Descartes / Amy Schmitter Material falsity and the arguments for God’s existence in Descartes’ Meditations / Cecilia Wee Reason unhinged : passion and precipice from Montaigne to Hume / Saul Traiger Reflection and (...) ideas in Hume’s account of the passions / Lilli Alanen Sympathy and the unity of Hume’s idea of self / Donald Ainslie Hume’s voyage / Janet Broughton Artifice, desire, and their relationship : Hume against Aristotle / Alasdair MacIntyre Hume and morality’s "useful purpose" / David Gauthier Reflection and well-being / Robert Shaver Friendship and the law of reason : Baier and Kant on love and principles / Sergio Tenenbaum Cruelty, respect, and unsentimental love / Michele Moody-Adams Trust as an affective attitude / Karen Jones Trusting "first" and "second" selves : Aristotelian reflections on Virginia Woolf and Annette Baier / Jennifer Whiting. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Mismapping the Underworld: Daring and Error in Dante’s ‘Comedy’Edward Donald KennedyMismapping the Underworld: Daring and Error in Dante’s ‘Comedy,’ by John Kleiner; 182 pp. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994, $32.50.Critics once emphasized the unity and apparent perfection of Dante’s Divine Comedy. In Mismapping the Underworld, John Kleiner emphasizes instead the imperfections, the inconsistencies, and inaccuracies in Dante’s work both to give a more accurate assessment of Dante’s artistry (...) and, as he remarks, to help readers “learn to enjoy” the imperfections (p. 2).The five chapters of the book are devoted to various cruces in the Vita nuova and the Comedy. The first chapter considers numerology in the Vita nuova: pointing out that scholars’ arguments for that work’s numerological symmetry have been flawed, Kleiner asks if Dante had as much “passion for order” as scholars have assumed. The second chapter, from which the title of the book is taken, considers earlier scholars’ attempts to draw accurate maps of Dante’s vision of Hell and inaccuracies and inconsistencies in that vision. Probably not many readers, for example, have realized that Satan, partially buried in the ice of Cocytus at the bottom of Hell, must be about 2,500 feet tall, if one calculates his height from the evidence Dante has given us, and even the part of his body extending above the ice must approximate “the height of the World Trade Center.” One must then ask how Dante, the narrator in the poem, is able to give such detailed descriptions of the tormented bodies of Cassius, Brutus, and Judas dangling from Satan’s mouth: “at their height they should be as insignificant a sight as a trio of deluded tourists waving from the top of the Empire State Building” (p. 44). One of the reasons why scholars have attempted to map the underworld so precisely is, as Kleiner points out, that Dante makes it seem so much more concrete than the “dreamlike” surface of earth. (Here C. S. Lewis may have taken a clue from Dante, in his notion that the concrete belongs to Heaven, that things on earth are only “shadowlands.”)The third chapter concerns Dante’s reputation as a student of classical literature. Here, focusing on two cantos of the Inferno and the Purgatorio, Kleiner considers Dante’s inaccurate citations from Virgil, Statius, and other [End Page 415] classical writers and his intentional use of “masterful distortions” to create the effect he wanted. In the fourth chapter, Kleiner discusses Dante’s use of scientific material, such as his precise description of the duration of a lunar eclipse that no one on earth would have been able to gauge and his design of an impossible experiment concerning reflected light. The final chapter associates Dante’s interest in Geryon, the monster who appears in Canto 16 of the Inferno, with the medieval fascination with the grotesque. Moreover, the Ovidian allusions in this canto, Kleiner believes, make the encounter with Geryon a meditation on poetry and show “fiction’s proximity to fraud, its perilous attractiveness, and its susceptibility to perversion” (p. 132). Thus the Geryon episode represents Dante’s concern with the dangers inherent in reading, dangers depicted earlier in the Inferno in, for example, the Francesca and Paolo episode of Canto V, in which the lovers had been seduced into committing adultery after reading the story of Lancelot and Guinevere. In such episodes, Dante reminds us of the power a writer has over his readers and of his duty not to use that power irresponsibly.Because of the post-Renaissance emphasis on the importance of unity in a work of art and the later emphasis on realism, earlier critics naturally emphasized the unity and consistency of Dante’s work. A great work, they assumed, had to have these qualities. As Kleiner’s book reminds us, however, earlier writers did not always prize them as highly as modern critics do, and some inconsistencies and errors (some deliberate, some not) seem to have been acceptable. Inaccurate citations of classical works are due in part to the fact that medieval writers often knew earlier works only from commonplace books and in part to... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Elizabethan Bacchae STEPHEN ORGEL Euripides’s Bacchae, with its antic hero and celebration of the joys of revenge, would seem to be especially relevant to Elizabethan drama, an ancestor of The Spanish Tragedy or Hamlet. In fact, however, it seems to have been practically unknown to the Elizabethans. With the new ProQuest version of EEBO (Early English Books Online) it is now possible to search early English (...) books for specific references; so I paired the name Euripides with books printed in England before 1640 to see what came up. I got 474 hits. Many of these, of course, were duplicates, appearing in works that were issued in multiple editions—the actual figure, however, was still something over three hundred. Most of those, however, were cases in which Euripides’s name simply appears in a list of famous ancient authors. Citations which actually quoted Euripides for the most part indicated no knowledge of the work cited, but were only bits of wisdom that might have come from any of the multitude of collections of aphorisms and moral stories throughout the period. There was only one English edition of a play of Euripides in Greek, The Trojan Women, published by John Day in 1575— continental editions were, of course, easily obtainable, but it must be to the point that English publishers did not see a sufficient market to produce them domestically; and there were no subsequent editions of Day’s Trojan Women. As for The Bacchae, I found only a single case where I believe it is being cited, and in a context, moreover, that indicates some familiarity with the play. John Bishop’s Beautiful Blossoms, a collection of historical anecdotes published in 1577, recounting the history of Demetrius, king of Macedonia, says, “Then fled Demetrius unto Thebes, where one scoffingly applied vnto him that verse arion 28.3 winter 2021 64 the elizabethan bacchae of Euripides: he came vnto the Dyrcean springs, and Ismenus, his divine and goodly fourme and shape being chaunged in to a mortall.”1 This is a version of a bit of Dionysus’s opening speech, I am here at the springs of Dirce, the river Ismenos, Changing my shape from divine to mortal... There is no reason to assume that John Bishop (about whom I can learn nothing) knew the play, but he is certainly citing someone who did. The play, then, to the Elizabethans was either practically unknown or deliberately ignored. It was not translated into English until the 1780s, and then two translations were published within a year of each other—for the English, it was an enlightenment and romantic text. Schlegel’s Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature (delivered 1806, published 1846) and Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy (1872) were the works that established The Bacchae as the quintessential Greek tragedy, though for Nietzsche, ironically, the two destroyers of the Greek tragic sense, the two great cultural villains, were Euripides the ironist and Socrates the arch-rationalist. But Nietzsche sees Euripides, at the end of his life, having a major change of heart, realizing that Dionysus was simply too powerful to be expunged from art and society; and The Bacchae was thus the fullest expression of this tragic truth. The problems with this argument are manifold: Euripides the ironist is quite evident in The Bacchae, so it hardly represents a change of heart; and the claims of the irrational are fully present in his earlier plays, for example, in Hippolytus, where all the poetic energy is in expressing the uncontrollable violence of passion, and the virtues of morality and self-control are meagre indeed. The essay was soundly refuted in its own time, and Nietzsche withdrew and recanted it. Its celebrity is a modern phenomenon: whatever its historical defects, it speaks to the dangerous attractions of unreason. There is a perverse element in Nietzsche’s argument, too: Dionysus, as the embodiment of revelry, is surely as essential Stephen Orgel 65 to comedy as to tragedy; and one could press this further. At the end of The Symposium, Socrates tells Agathon and Aristophanes, tragic and comic dramatists, that their arts (or crafts: the word is techne) are essentially the same. Heavy weather has... (shrink)

The purpose of this article is to bring to light a critical question which borders around the decolonial feminism discourse, and in so doing I unveil some salient insights which add valuable contributions to the discourse about the place of feminism in the African context. The motivating problem is the question of subordination of women in Africa. There are many reasons and questions, each deserving thorough examination that have been brought forward for the causes and possible explanations of the phenomenon. (...) The argument I seek to highlight is that cultural distortion through colonisation has led to the valorisation of narratives that perpetuate the subordination of women in Africa. One such narrative is that women are second-class citizens and that they occupy an inferior position in the social, economic and political hierarchies of our society. What will come from this article is that these narratives persist in what we would consider a postcolonial “modern” Africa where women seem to be gaining rights and tapping into spaces that foster equality owing to feminism. However, the subordination of women is still prevalent, even for the “liberated” women. The article will show why the persistence of this problem is proving difficult for the comprehension and acceptance of feminism in African contexts. (shrink)

Reason, Revelation, and Devotion argues that immersion in religious reading traditions and their associated spiritual practices significantly shapes our emotions, desires, intuitions, and volitional commitments; these in turn affect our construction and assessments of arguments for religious conclusions. But far from distorting the reasoning process, these emotions and volitional and cognitive dispositions can be essential for sound reasoning on religious and other value-laden subject matters. And so western philosophy must rethink its traditional antagonism toward rhetoric. The book concludes with (...) discussions of the implications of the earlier chapters for the relation between reason and revelation, and for the role that the concept of mystery should play in philosophy in general, and in the philosophy of religion and philosophical theology in particular. (shrink)

In this essay, I focus on Norberto Bobbio’s reflections on human rights. Firstly, I seek to establish his underlying conception of philosophy: although it is impossible to spell out the philosophical foundations of human rights, this does not imply that philosophical thought, in the sense of critical reason, cannot make a useful contribution and provide valuable arguments in support of human rights. Secondly, I examine the related issue of the justification of human rights and assess his theory on the (...) basis of its own conception of a possible foundation. The way we answer the question of coherence also clarifies (a) what model of civil association is compatible with such a foundation, i.e. with such a worldview; (b) what model is absolutely incompatible with it; and finally (c) what intermediate solutions are there, if there are any. I argue that the communitarian variants of the conception of rights are distortions: collective or cultural rights, i.e. rights of a community towards which all of its members have duties, appearing alongside individual rights, trump individual rights, i.e. the rights linked to personhood that once constituted the most effective legal and political means for emancipating the individual from the power of the community. I therefore consider the “Copernican Revolution” of individualism and its consequences in Bobbio’s thought. As the example of personal freedom shows, where rights are ascribed principally to groups or communities rather than to individuals, we have good reason to fear that rights will turn out to be merely the privilege of the few. Once we follow this line of though in Bobbio, the ecumenical openness to alternative approaches and the argument from “the consensus of the people” yield to a clearly universalistic perspective that derives from the Enlightenment and can be interpreted as the product of the specifically modern version of natural law theory. (shrink)

Can philosophy enable us to lead better lives through a systematic understanding of our human nature? John Cottingham's thought-provoking 1998 study examines the contrasting approaches to this problem found in three major phases of Western philosophy. Starting with the attempts of Plato, Aristotle and the Stoics and Epicureans to cope with the recalcitrant forces of the passions, he moves on to examine the fascinating and hitherto little-studied moral psychology of Descartes, and his effort to integrate the physical and emotional aspects (...) of our humanity into a rational blueprint for fulfilment. He concludes by analysing the insights of modern psychoanalytic theory into the human predicament, arguing that philosophy neglects them at its peril if it hopes to come to terms with the complex relationship between reason and the emotions. Lucid in exposition and unusually wide-ranging in scope, Philosophy and the Good Life provides a challenging perspective on moral philosophy and psychology for students and specialists alike. (shrink)

Pragmatists have been eager to employ the method of science in philosophy, which meant, too, that they paid a great deal of attention to the attitudes that regulate the process of scientific or systematic inquiry. At the same time, they, at least in the nonstandard theories of emotion to be found in Charles Sanders Peirce and John Dewey, espoused a cognitivist view of emotion, which resonates with some of the concerns that have been at the forefront of the contemporary philosophy (...) of emotion. In particular, they converge upon the view that something like ‘emotional understanding’ is very important. While COPE, especially in the case of Julien Deonna’s and Fabrice Teroni’s ‘attitudinal theory of emotion’ which has some pragmatist affinities, is focused on showing how emotional understanding is central to moral agency, it is my aim in this paper to offer a pragmatist account of emotional understanding as ‘passionate reasoning’ that goes one step further. By highlighting the way in which emotions ought to be interpreted even in the context of scientific or systematic inquiries it makes a case for moralizing science from within, i.e. without submitting it to values that are alien to inquiry. In particular, passionate reasoning helps addressing three problems of inquiry: the problem of the lack of context, the problem of the problem wrongly put, and the problem of my problem. (shrink)

John Cottingham identifies “the grand traditional project of synoptic ethics” as an attempt to define the essential features of a good human life within a rational understanding of the world, and of man’s place within it. That the project now seems dated he explains in two ways. First, he notes the recent specialization and professionalization of philosophy, its preference of technical topics to grand questions. Second, he adduces a skepticism that doubts the objectivity, and a liberalism that accepts a plurality, (...) of values. The upshot of both trends is a “committee ethics” that takes on “the task of articulating the structure of an optimal political system in which maximum scope is given for the pursuit of whatever values are in fact chosen by the citizens” —a grandish issue, surely, but neither a personal nor a metaphysical one. Cottingham’s main aim is to cast further doubt on the practicability of the traditional project so long as it is pursued in the traditional “ratiocentric” style. What that is he conveys through discussions of Plato, Aristotle, and Descartes. (shrink)

The author presents a reading of Hume’s theory of passionate self-moderation and explore its application to the question of whether Hume accords any practicality to reason. One of Hume’s well-known arguments concludes that reason cannot exercise control over the passions, many of which cause or motivate action. So, it looks as though actions are inevitable results of unruly passions. Hume’s theory of action, however, embodies principles by which certain passions can moderate the effects of other passions. The goal (...) in this paper is two-fold: (1) to show that many of the details of Hume’s theory of passionate self-moderation are verified in contemporary psychological studies of emotion regulation, and (2) to argue that reason, for Hume, has a kind of practicality, given its role in passionate regulation, one that is often overlooked in discussions of Humean practical reason. -/- . (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 25.1 (2001) 169-171 [Access article in PDF] Book Review The Passion for Happiness: Samuel Johnson and David Hume The Passion for Happiness: Samuel Johnson and David Hume, by Adam Potkay; 241 pp. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2000, $42.50. This book is a sustained attack on the widespread impression that Samuel Johnson and David Hume were antithetical characters, a notion largely nourished by that memorable (...) moment when Boswell brings up Hume "and other skeptical innovators" and Johnson replies, as we all remember, "Truth will not afford sufficient food to their vanity; so they have betaken themselves to error. Truth, sir, is a cow which will yield such people no more milk, and so they have gone to milk the bull." Professor Potkay feels that this image has radically distorted our perception of the truth.A large part of the problem, as Potkay sees it, is that the Johnson of the biography is not the same as the Johnson seen in his writings. Boswell, he claims, "superbly fashioned a Johnson after his own heart" (p. 29). Biography is beset with the misapprehensions we all have of another individual, but personal writing is equally subject to rhetorical posturing, selective memory, and other histrionics of the ego.Potkay makes a strong and interesting case for the proposition that Johnson and Hume were in accord as to their ideas of happiness. "Johnson and Hume set forth largely compatible visions of human happiness that, while rooted in Cicero, draw as well on modern authors..." (p. 5). In this view, happiness is intrinsically social, the inverse of Sartre's L'enfer, c'est les autres. We are estimable in our own eyes only if we are so in the eyes of others. The astronomer in Rasselas finally surmounts his delusion that he controls the weather only by leaving his solitude for the society of others. Hume declared that perfect solitude is the greatest punishment that we can suffer (p. 60). Hume and Johnson both agree that cities afford the greatest happiness through a multiplicity of agreeable consciousness--London for Johnson and Paris for Hume.Potkay argues that the chief ethic in the writings of both Hume and Johnson [End Page 169] "is the eclectic, Ciceronian brand of Stoicism Hume delineates in 'the Stoic', a sociable Stoicism whose end is 'the moderating of our passions, the enlightening of our reason'" (p. 77). The path to happiness lies in cultivating reason and moderating passion. However, unlike ethicists that downgrade the passions, Hume and Johnson see the passions as necessary and good. As against the whole duty of man, they think that pride is good, unless it causes pain to others. This is fresh news for those of us who have squirmed in Sunday school classes when pride was severely denounced and humility recommended--squirmed in spite of our reverence for Milton. Johnson and Hume viewed pride and the pleasure derived from praise as inspiring progress in trades, professions, arts, and science. It excites ingenuity. This is what we didn't dare say in Sunday school.Potkay searches indefatigably for parallels between the two men. We are told that they both rejected the hard determinism that some thinkers derived from Newtonian physics. In the midst of all this we have another discussion of tragedy, pity and fear, etc., the sort of thing that requires the reckless exuberance of youth in order to relish. Are we expected to feel astonished that here too we find them in accord? The parallels between the two men are pushed to the point that a reader might begin to suspect that there is a hidden half of the text that is being withheld, perhaps countervailing evidence. We begin to feel that lurking suspicion evoked by someone too zealously dedicated to a thesis.By the middle of the book, a reader is likely to be convinced that far from going forth to milk the bull, Hume was almost an intellectual twin of Johnson. At the same time, though, sepia thoughts begin to seep into the mind. We notice that these parallel thoughts... (shrink)

It is standard in feminist commentaries to argue that Wollstonecraft's feminism is vitiated by her commitment to a liberal philosophical framework, relying on a valuation of reason over passion and on the notion of a sex-neutral self. I challenge this interpretation of Wollstonecraft's feminism and argue that her attempt to articulate an ideal of self-governance for women was an attempt to diagnose and resolve some of the tensions and inadequacies within traditional liberal thought.1.

A critical review of John Cottingham's "Philosophy and the Good Life: Reason and the Passions in Greek, cartesian, and psychoanalytic ethics" Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1998.

According to Kant, passions are a distinct type of inclination. Unlike normal inclinations, however, they are inherently destructive—much like addictions. Recent scholarship on Kant's view has left two important questions unanswered. First, what is the key trouble-making difference between passions and normal inclinations? Second, what mental processes give rise to passions in the first place? My article answers both questions. I argue that passions involve a form of tunnel vision or hyperfocus that corrupts practical reason by hijacking attention. This (...) problem emerges when the imagination (or “fantasy”) distorts the processes that give rise to normal inclinations. (shrink)