Section 1 of this essay distinguishes between four interpretations of Socratic intellectualism, which are, very roughly: a version in which on any given occasion desire, and then action, is determined by what we think will turn out best for us, that being what we all, always, really desire; a version in which on any given occasion action is determined by what we think will best satisfy our permanent desire for what is really best for us; a version formed by the (...) assimilation of to, labelled the ‘standard’ version’ by Thomas C. Brickhouse and Nicholas D. Smith, and treated by them as a single alternative to their own interpretation; and Brickhouse and Smith’s own version. Section 2 considers, in particular, Brickhouse and Smith’s handling of the ‘appetites and passions’, which is the most distinctive feature of interpretation. Section 3 discusses Brickhouse and Smith’s defence of ‘Socratic studies’ in its historical context, and assesses the contribution made by their distinctive interpretation of ‘the philosophy of Socrates’. One question raised in this section, and one that is clearly fundamental to the existence of ‘Socratic studies’, is how different Brickhouse and Smith’s Socrates turns out to be from Plato himself, i.e., the Plato of the post-‘Socratic’ dialogues; to which the answer offered is that on Brickhouse and Smith’s interpretation Socratic moral psychology becomes rather less distinguishable from its ‘Platonic’ counterpart—as that is currently understood—than it is on the interpretation they oppose. (shrink)

Neo-Aristotelian ethical naturalists argue that moral norms are natural norms that apply to human beings. A central issue for neo-Aristotelians is to determine what belongs to the good human life; the question is complicated, since we take up a diversity of different lives, many of which seem good, and it seems unclear what the human species-characteristic life really is. The Aristotelian tradition gives some guidance on this question, however, because it describes us as rational animals with intellectual and appetitive powers; (...) the perfection of those powers is what makes us good qua human. This is especially well spelled out in Thomas Aquinas; he takes moral virtues of courage and temperance to be perfections of our sense appetites, a power of going for things presented as good through our senses. These virtues thereby shape our passions, specifically the passions of fear, daring and concupiscent love, which are a result of the sense appetites pursuing what appears as good. This view provides a framework for virtue, which can then be taken as the perfections of distinct powers shared by all human beings, though actualized in a variety of ways. In this article, I will focus on the passion of fear, which I here describe, following Aquinas, as a movement of sense appetite away from evils that are difficult or impossible to avoid. My focus will be on showing that this passion is necessary, irreplaceable by our cognitive powers, and that the underlying sensitive appetites that produce fear must be perfected for any human being to count as good. (shrink)

This article introduces the doctrine of the passions in the Hobbesian work, showing its debt with tradition, especially the scholastic Aristotelian one, even if, at the same time, it offers some breach features with this tradition, which are also analysed. In addition, the fundamentals of imagination manifest themselves in the appetitive process, in Hobbes's doctrine as well as in the scholastic Aristotelian tradition, showing their similarities and differences.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:From Passions to Emotions: The Creation of a Secular Psychological CategoryMax RosenkrantzThomas Dixon. From Passions to Emotions: The Creation of a Secular Psychological Category. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Pp. x + 287. Cloth, $60.00Thomas Dixon's From Passions to Emotions defends a provocative set of theses. (1) The concept of "emotion" is of relatively recent vintage, having been designed by secular Scottish writers in (...) the first half of the nineteenth century. (2) That concept embraces a range of phenomena that earlier Christian writers such as Augustine and Aquinas understood in terms of a manifold of concepts such as "appetites," "passions," "affections," and "sentiments." (3) The concept of "emotion" is too crude an instrument for understanding human psychology. Further, (4) today the secular conceptual framework has completely displaced the religious one. This has nothing to do with the former's greater proximity to the truth, as is shown by the persistence of cogent Christian theories in the second half of the nineteenth century, the period of secularism's triumph; and (5) The opposition between reason and emotion arises only when theorists begin to think of "emotions" rather than "appetites," "passions," "affections," and "sentiments." Christian writers did not see the passions as simply the enemies of reason.The basis for Dixon's argument is his interpretation of nineteenth-century psychological theory in the English speaking world. Specifically he argues that the concept of "emotion" was invented by the Scottish thinker Thomas Brown (1778-1820). Brown's innovation was then appropriated and developed by Spencer, Darwin, and William James. The foil for this story is the Christian tradition represented most compellingly by Augustine and Aquinas and carried on by a host of lesser nineteenth-century figures. In my judgment, the story thus told cannot bear the weight Dixon places upon it.The centerpiece of Dixon's argument is his claim that Brown "invents" (109) the emotions and thereby initiates a conceptual revolution in western thought. While Dixon may be right in asserting that Brown is the first to use the word 'emotion' in a systematic fashion, this achievement is merely terminological. Brown deploys the term to develop a mechanistic account of human nature, one in which the springs of action are located not in the will and reason, but in the emotions. Replace 'emotion' in the preceding sentence with 'passion' and one gets a concise characterization of Hobbes's view. Dixon is aware that Brown and others work within a Hobbesian framework (250) but does not attend to that framework. Thus his claims for the significance of the developments he describes fail to convince. The real innovation in psychological theory—as in so much else—took place in the seventeenth century.Just as Dixon overestimates the importance and originality of the Scottish writers he discusses, so too he overestimates the intellectual importance of Augustine and Aquinas. His presentation of their views (26-62) is accurate, but he does not note that they take over the Platonic-Aristotelian view of the soul according to which reason can and should penetrate, educate and direct the passions. Thus the guiding thought that structures the work—the nineteenth century witnesses an ultimately successful revolt against Christian psychology—must be rejected. The revolt is against ancient, pre-Christian modes of thought and is undertaken and largely won in the seventeenth century. The events Dixon describes are skirmishes in that larger campaign.The rest of the theses Dixon defends can be dispatched with more quickly. The idea that the modern concept of "emotion" is insufficiently subtle is averted to frequently, but never adequately defended. At no point does Dixon demonstrate, or even claim to demonstrate, that Christian thinkers recognized something secular thinkers miss. Roughly the same can be said for his claims about the persistence of Christian psychology in the nineteenth century. What Dixon means is not just that such thinkers exist, but that their thought remains vibrant. Again I see no argument for such a verdict. Finally, there is the matter of the opposition between reason and passion. To his credit Dixon rejects the view according to which almost all Western thought is hostile to the passions. As he shows, this... (shrink)

In discussions of early-modern notions of passion and virtue, the humanist movement has played only a minor role. However, it has its own characteristics and approaches to the problem of passion and virtue. The moral philosophy of the Neapolitan humanist Giovanni Pontano is a case in point. Pontano pronounces himself against the Stoic doctrine of the eradication of the passions. Although his moral psychology follows traditional conceptions of the passions as subjected to the rule of reason, it rather (...) illustrates the complex structures into which reason and virtue have to be implemented. The notion of arduousness is helpful to illuminate these structures. Falling back on Aquinas' distinction between a 'concupiscible' and an 'irascible' appetite, Pontano puts a special emphasis on the latter, necessary to deal with the difficulties and hardships that are typical of any process of learning. As he argues, the way to human perfection is full of hardship, and the higher the perfection aims, the greater the hardship will be. This concept implies the need for passionate responses to overcome hardship.Moreover, it suggests the picture of a ruler unimpressed by difficulties and obstacles, vehement and forceful. (shrink)

This article introduces the doctrine of the passions in the Hobbesian work, showing its debt with tradition, especially the scholastic Aristotelian one, even if, at the same time, it offers some breach features with this tradition, which are also analysed. In addition, the fundamentals of imagination manifest themselves in the appetitive process, in Hobbes's doctrine as well as in the scholastic Aristotelian tradition, showing their similarities and differences.

Today there is a thriving 'emotions industry' to which philosophers, psychologists and neuroscientists are contributing. Yet until two centuries ago 'the emotions' did not exist. In this path-breaking study Thomas Dixon shows how, during the nineteenth century, the emotions came into being as a distinct psychological category, replacing existing categories such as appetites, passions, sentiments and affections. By examining medieval and eighteenth-century theological psychologies and placing Charles Darwin and William James within a broader and more complex nineteenth-century setting, (...) Thomas Dixon argues that this domination by one single descriptive category is not healthy. Overinclusivity of 'the emotions' hampers attempts to argue with any subtlety about the enormous range of mental states and stances of which humans are capable. This book is an important contribution to the debate about emotion and rationality which has preoccupied western thinkers throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and has implications for contemporary debates. (shrink)

Thomas Aquinas has argued that the passion of hope is the movement of the sensitive appetite and the first of the irascible passion. The first part of the article aims to explore the cause and the mechanism of the passion of hope, and tries to clarify the relationship between the passion of hope and the perception. In human beings, it is possible that the passion of hope is caused by false judgement of the perception, which will lead to the result (...) of false hope. In Aquinas’s argument, the problem of false hope could be solved through the moral virtue and the prudence. In the second part of this article, the aim is to analyse how the virtue of magnanimity, humility and the prudence work impact on the passion of hope and perfect it.Contribution: This research concentrates on the topic of the passion of hope of Thomas Aquinas, and provides a new perspective on the understanding of the relationship between the passion and the virtue. (shrink)

Passions subsumes the natural human appetites (hunger, thirst, lust, and addictions); felt desires, such as urges, cravings, and impulses; some obsessions (obsessive emotions and compulsive obsessions); and the affections (agitations, moods, and emotions) of a living being. It is important to clarify the concept of emotion that is to locate it among the concepts of the passions thus construed, and to describe the differences between emotions and other passions. This chapter describes the conceptual boundaries that distinguish (...) the emotions from other affections, such as agitations and moods; from felt desires, such as urges and cravings; from obsessions and appetites; and also from attitudes. Emotions are classified as negative or positive, according as to whether one would (normally) prefer to feel such emotions (delighted, excited, overjoyed, contented, amused, affection), or prefer not to be subjected to them (feeling bored, envious, jealous, frightened, sorrow, embarrassed, humiliated). (shrink)

One of three basic types of desire, claims Aristotle, is thumos (‘spirit,’ ‘passion,’ ‘heart,’ ‘anger,’ ‘impulse’). The other two are epithumia (‘appetite’) and boulêsis (‘wish,’ ‘rational desire’). Yet, he never gives us an account of thumos; it has also received relatively little scholarly attention. I argue that thumos has two key features. First, it is able to cognize what I call ‘social value,’ the agent’s own perceived standing relative to others in a certain domain. In human animals, shame and honor (...) are especially important manifestations of social value. Second, thumos provides non-rational motivation to pursue what affirms the agent’s social value and avoid what denies it. Interpretations that hold thumos just is anger, or that its object is the fine (kalon), I argue, are mistaken. My account also explains the role of thumos in moral education. In a virtuous agent thumos will be affectively attuned to the correct social rankings; it will take the practically wise, the lovers of the fine, or moral exemplars, as authorities. (shrink)

This article examines Machiavelli’s image of humanity. It argues against the prevailing views that characterize it either as pessimistic or optimistic and defends the thesis that the Florentine has a realist image of humanity. Machiavelli is a psychological egoist who conceives of man as a being whose actions are motivated by his drives, appetites, and passions, which lead him often to immoral behavior. Man’s main drives are “ambition” (ambizione) and “avarice” (avarizia). This article also investigates Machiavelli’s concept of (...) nature and shows that, for him, the constancy of human nature is the central premise that makes the scientific analysis of politics possible. Despite the fact that human drives and capabilities are the same at all times, good laws, military training, and religion allow man to be changed and educated toward “virtue” (virtù). To make such changes in man, however, presupposes a good legal and political order. Machiavelli justifies the state because of its capacity to reshape human nature and to improve man. The state is not only a coercive power but a moral institution. This leads to the conclusion that Machiavelli does not separate politics from morality as most scholars claim. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Spinoza on Self-Preservation and Self-DestructionMitchell GabhartI wish to examine a difficulty that arises in Spinoza’s treatment of selfhood as it pertains to the possibility of self-destruction. The troublesome problem of selfhood is one which I will not solve but which I hope to illuminate. What I hope to do is shed light on Spinoza’s conception of human essence as necessarily self-affirming, and therefore of willful self-destruction as impossible. Yet (...) this issue too is troubling since the accounts Spinoza provides of suicides all have one thing in common: suicide always involves being overcome by the external environment, i.e., the environment operating in a way contrary to the nature of the agent. Thus, all suicide is a sign of an internal weakness in the face of a hostile world. To provide the needed contrast to the suicidal agent, necessarily a state of the utmost bondage or servitude, I will first sketch Spinoza’s theory of the passions, their remedy, the characteristics of the active free agent, and his curious account of immortality. Then I turn to the problem in his account of suicide: I contend that he cannot make meaningful a distinction between suicide and any other form of death.2.I begin with Spinoza’s analysis of human motivation, the elements of which are the affects, which he defines (E3D2) as the body’s power of acting being increased or diminished as well as the idea of those affections.1 Spinoza classifies [End Page 613] emotions, i.e., affects under the attribute of mind, into two types: actions and passions.2 Spinoza does not (contrary to his predecessor Descartes) posit the existence of a separate faculty such as will to transform passions into actions. Rather, “we act when something happens, in us or outside us, of which we are the adequate cause, i.e., (by E3D1) when something in us or outside us follows from our nature, which can be clearly and distinctly understood through it alone.”3 Conversely, we are acted upon “when something happens in us, or something follows from our nature, of which we are only a partial cause.”4 Consequently it is not necessary to oppose will and intellect in order to differentiate action from passion. The mind includes both adequate and inadequate ideas (E3P1) and therefore can be alternately both agent and patient.The departure from Descartes is striking: since (1) ideas either are or are not adequate and (2) each adequate idea carries its own certitude (E2P43), the need for a separate faculty of assent, which is what volition must amount to, is nullified. Instead, volition and appetite are considered by Spinoza to be no more than distinct manifestations of one central striving, the former a purely mental description and the latter an account of both mental and physical aspects of the individual.5Spinoza introduces the key term conatus to characterize the activity of modes but it is a concept which also bears the burden of accounting for the individuality, indeed the essence, of finite modes. The principle of conatus is defined by Spinoza as a striving (E3P7), i.e., “that striving by which each thing strives to persevere in its own being is nothing but the actual essence of the thing.”6 This [End Page 614] striving to persevere in one’s existence—a striving which continues for an indefinite time (E3P8)—must, of course, undergo both successes and failures. Modes, such as the human individual, exist conditionally, as finite and temporally changing constituents of the substantial reality which Spinoza refers to as “God or Nature.” So, human beings are entities possessing (1) an essential identity through an indefinite duration and (2) a consciousness of that identity which alternately resists or succumbs to outside forces.Thus, their existence can be thought of as merely adjectival, which poses difficulties in understanding self-identity. Vital, it seems, to an acceptable conception of identity is some principle of individuation—something which makes Peter distinct from Paul.7 Let us first then sketch the account of individuation that Spinoza proposes. It is important to bear in mind first that conatus is a striving of the organism as... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Ideas 61.2 (2000) 305-326 [Access article in PDF] Logos and Kratos: Gramsci and the Ancients on Hegemony Benedetto Fontana * The purpose of this paper is to locate Gramsci's concept of hegemony, and its related ideas of civil society, the national-popular and the people-nation, within the political thought of classical antiquity. 1 In so doing, the paper seeks to identify strands or elements within (...) aspects of ancient political thought which may usefully be seen as conceptual prefigurations or as political anticipations of Gramsci's hegemony. It will show that Gramsci shares with the ancients specific theoretical, linguistic, and intellectual topoi. Hegemony has hitherto been located within the context, both theoretical and historical, of debates and controversies arising out of the Marxist and later Leninist revolutionary tradition. It is rightly seen as a notion developed by Gramsci to explain revolutionary failure in Italy and in the West generally, and consequently its antecedents are traced to the problems attendant upon the collapse of the Second International and the rise of Bolshevism in Russia. 2 While such an approach has been useful in revealing the immediate (both political and tactical) constraints acting upon Gramsci's thinking, it has overlooked passages in his writings which reveal an interest in, and [End Page 305] familiarity with, philosophical and theoretical themes originally formulated and elaborated by classical political thought.I. In a note entitled "Passage from Knowing to Understanding and to Feeling and vice versa from Feeling to Understanding and to Knowing" Gramsci establishes a distinction between intellectuals who "know" and the "people-nation" that "feels." The former may know but do not always understand or feel, while the latter may feel but does not always know. The intellectual, in order to know something politically and socially, not merely abstractly or philosophically, must understand it with feeling and passion. As Gramsci writes: The intellectual's error consists in believing that one can know without understanding and even more without feeling and being impassioned (not only for knowledge in itself but also for the object of knowledge); in other words that the intellectual can be an intellectual (and not a pure pedant) if distinct and separate from the people-nation, that is, without feeling the elementary passions of the people, understanding them and therefore explaining and justifying them in the particular historical situation and connecting them dialectically to the laws of history and to a superior conception of the world, scientifically and coherently elaborated--i.e. knowledge. One cannot make politics-history without this passion, without this sentimental connection between intellectuals and people-nation. 3The merely abstract knowledge of the intellectual becomes life and politics when linked to the experiential and passionate feelings of the people. At the same time, the feeling-passion of the people acquires the character of knowledge. Of course such a formulation is reminiscent of Marx's comments in the Theses on Feuerbach. 4 The dyadic relation between intellectual and people-nation, and between knowledge and feeling-passion, both parallels and informs the relation between common sense and good sense. Common sense is opinion which is incoherent and ambiguous 5 but which may nevertheless contain elements of truth to the extent that they are proliferated throughout a people. Good sense, on the other hand, is the common sense of the people as their passion and experience are imbued with knowledge and reason--that is, as the people begin to "think" coherently by producing their own intellectuals, the organic intellectual, or the democratic philosopher. 6 [End Page 306]Gramsci recalls the problem originally posed by Plato and Aristotle and running through the entire history of Western political thought up to thinkers as diverse as Hegel, Nietzsche, Weber, and Croce: namely, the relation between knowledge and politics, philosophy and rhetoric, ruler and people, reason and desire/appetite. 7 This relation poses the question regarding the role and status of reason. It is the way reason (the logos as transcendent reason or as speech and language) is perceived that moves the theory in either an ossified (absolutist... (shrink)

Plato and Kant advance a constitutional model of the soul, in which reason and appetite or passion have different structural and functional roles in the generation of motivation, as opposed to the familiar Combat Model in which they are portrayed as independent sources of motivation struggling for control. In terms of the constitutional model we may explain what makes an action different from an event. What makes an action attributable to a person, and therefore what makes it an action, is (...) that it issues from the person''s constitution, and therefore from the person as a whole, rather than from some force working on or in the person. This in turn implies an account of what makes an action good: what makes an action good is that it is deliberated upon and chosen in a way that unifies the person into a constitutional system. Through deliberative action we constitute ourselves as unified agents. Platonic justice and Kant''s categorical imperative are shown to be normative standards for action because they are principles of self-constitution. (shrink)

How homogenous are the sources of human motivation? Textbook Humeans hold that every human action is motivated by desire, thus any heterogeneity derives from differing objects of desire. Textbook Kantians hold that although some human actions are motivated by desire, others are motivated by reason. One question in this vicinity concerns whether there are states such that to be in one is at once take the world to be a certain way and to be motivated to act: the state-question. My (...) question here is different: whether passion and reason constitute distinct sources of human motivation: the source question. In this essay, I defend an affirmative answer to the source-question while remaining neutral on the state-question. I distinguish between what I call orectic desires, which are associated with the appetites, and anorectic desires, which are associated with judgments of the good. I argue that the two sorts of desires constitute distinct sources of motivation initially on the basis of their differing epistemological profiles. Specifically, self-attributions of anorectic desires are governed by the transparency condition, self-attributions of orectic desires are not. It emerges from this discussion that the motivation for performing an action arises in very different ways from each sort of desire. This difference, in turn, is explained by their differing relations to the will. Roughly, an orectic desire influences the will, but an anorectic desire is the will. The motivation to perform some of our actions derives simply from the determination that they are to-be-done—from reason. (shrink)

For Descartes, the passions are the key to the good life. But he is also wary of the extent to which they may lead us astray. As I argue, there is reason to be skeptical that Descartes himself provides a satisfying resolution of this tension in the Passions of the Soul. The problem concerns our ability to interpret and work through intra-subjective passional conflicts. Descartes seems almost obsessed with the problem of such conflicts in this text. What he (...) needs to provide, however, is a kind of moral therapy by which we can adjudicatethem. This is tantamount to providing a theory of representation for the passions, and it would be similar to the belief therapy that he provides for determining the representational content of other perception types, notably sensations and appetites. But I argue that he does not discharge this philosophical obligation, and indeed he cannot do so given his own understanding of the uniquely ambiguous representational character of the passions. (shrink)

Where is my mind?: locating the mind metaphysically in Hobbes / Amy M. Schmitter -- The Cambridge Platonists: material and immaterial substance / Jasper Reid -- Descartes' philosophy of mind and its early critics / Antonia LoLordo -- Consciousness and reflection: the later Cartesians / Steven Nadler -- Malebranche on mind / Julie Walsh -- Cavendish and Conway on the individual human mind / Karen Detlefsen -- Locke and metaphysics of "state of sensibility" / Vili Lähteenmäki -- Spinoza on thinking (...) substance and the non-substantial mind / Beth Lord -- Two theories of mind as an immaterial substance: Descartes and Leibniz / Martha Brandt Bolton -- Leibniz on perception, sensation, apperception, and conscientia / Christian Barth -- Leibniz on appetitions and desires / Julia Jorati -- The Clarke Collins correspondence / William Uzgalis -- Mental substance and mental activity / Margaret Atherton -- Thomas Reid's common sense philosophy of mind / Todd Buras -- Persons and passions in Hume's philosophy of mind / Angela Coventry -- Kant on the mind / Andrew Brook. (shrink)

Plato's 'Republic' constructs an ideal city composed of three parts, parallel to the soul's reason, appetites, and fighting spirit. But confusion and controversy have long surrounded this three-way division and especially the prominent role it assigns to angry and competitive spirit. In Plato's Three-fold City and Soul, Joshua I. Weinstein argues that, for Plato, determination and fortitude are not just expressions of our passionate or emotional natures, but also play an essential role in the rational agency of persons and (...) polities. In the Republic's account, human life requires spirited courage as much as reasoned thought and nutritious food. The discussion ranges over Plato's explication of the logical and metaphysical foundations of justice and injustice, the failures of incomplete and dysfunctional cities, and the productive synergy of our tendencies and capacities that becomes fully evident only in the justice of a self-sufficient political community. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Descartes on Love and/as ErrorByron WillistonBut if this medicine, love, which cures all sorrow With more, not only be no quintessence, But mixed of all stuffs, paining soul, or sense, And of the sun his working vigour borrow, Love’s not so pure, and abstract, as they use To say, which have no mistress but their Muse, But as all else, being elemented too, Love sometimes would contemplate, sometimes do.1One (...) of philosophy’s most enduring questions is inspired by Plato’s Euthyphro: do we love something because it is lovable, or is it lovable because we love it?2 Perhaps nowhere is this problem more intractable than in Descartes’s theory of love. In his view love is the concrete attempt on the part of humans to develop an ethical reciprocity which ideally fulfils the need both to discover and to create value. The strict disjunction of the Platonic question is to this extent somewhat misleading because Descartes is genuinely challenged by the respective demands of both sides of the question. It would therefore be a mistake to fasten on one side of this distinction to the utter exclusion of the other.But the temptation to do precisely this with Descartes is strong indeed. This is a temptation which extends even to ethical matters, in which Descartes seems loathe to subordinate the search for certainty to merely contingent practical demands. In addressing the problem of moral weakness he writes, for [End Page 429] example, that “the strength of the soul is inadequate without knowledge of the truth.”3 The call to live in the light of certain truths—moral or otherwise—is so persistent a theme for him that the burden of proof would seem to be on those who want to claim that this is nevertheless not so in certain areas. The bulk of this paper is thus devoted to showing that, despite some appearances, Descartes is not concerned overmuch with the problem of attaining certainty and avoiding error in love judgments. He wants us to see love as a complex psycho-physical phenomenon which cannot be reduced to the desire to obtain true judgments about the world.To focus the discussion I examine Irving Singer’s philosophy of love as presented in The Nature of Love and especially his hermeneutic distinction between “appraisal” and “bestowal,” a distinction which maps felicitously onto the Platonic disjunction as sketched above. Singer criticizes the Cartesian theory of love as excessively “appraisive,” that is, as relying too heavily on an objective standard as guarantor of the worth of beloved objects. I maintain on the contrary that this interpretation distorts what Descartes’s texts tell us. By arguing that the will, with no necessary input from the appraising intellect, is paramount in love judgments, I show that love for Descartes is largely an imaginative means of “bestowing” value which as such does not require either the guidance or the corroboration of objective criteria. The bestowal theory warrants, rather, the free subjective creation of value. The distinction which Singer uses to criticize Descartes is thus turned to Descartes’s favor.I. Before getting to that argument, however, we need to examine the place which love as a specific passion has within the overall economy of the third notion primitive,4 that is, the union of body and soul as distinct from the treatment of these elements as mutually separate. Passions are for Descartes a species of thought. In a general sense all “perceptions” are passions of the soul. They represent the world to the will which then acts in some way on them (“action” is taken as the other species of thought). Now of these perceptions generally considered, some are caused by the external objects of the senses5 and some by the natural appetites and affections of the body.6 There are, however, those perceptions “whose effects we feel as being in the soul itself....”7 These are strictly speaking the “passions” of the soul; and despite our not always being able to locate their proximate cause,8 they may be stimulated by the [End Page 430] “fortuitous movement of the spirits,”9 by intellectual judgments, or by external... (shrink)

For Descartes, the passions are the key to the good life. But he is also wary of the extent to which they may lead us astray. As I argue, there is reason to be skeptical that Descartes himself provides a satisfying resolution of this tension in the Passions of the Soul. The problem concerns our ability to interpret and work through intra-subjective passional conflicts. Descartes seems almost obsessed with the problem of such conflicts in this text. What he (...) needs to provide, however, is a kind of moral therapy by which we can adjudicatethem. This is tantamount to providing a theory of representation for the passions, and it would be similar to the belief therapy that he provides for determining the representational content of other perception types, notably sensations and appetites. But I argue that he does not discharge this philosophical obligation, and indeed he cannot do so given his own understanding of the uniquely ambiguous representational character of the passions. (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)

This paper is concerned with Descartes’s view on the passions’ moral value, that is, their value with respect to achieving the ethical ends of virtue and happiness. In this regard, there is no question that the passions possess a kind of conative value because of their power to move or incline us in ways that contribute to ethical ends. This paper’s question is whether the passions also contribute to ethical ends in a cognitive sense by informing us (...) of the moral value of things, in other words, telling us whether things are good or bad with respect to the ends of virtue and happiness. The answer to this question is less clear for two reasons. Firstly, in order for the passions to inform us in this way they would have to be the sort of mental state that purports to tell us the way things are, in other words, that contain some sort of presentation or assessment of things. To borrow language from present day philosophy of mind, they would have to be contentful mental states. But this way of thinking about the passions is opposed by a long tradition, running from Descartes’s contemporaries to today, that regards Cartesian passions as purely conative or appetitive movements, along the lines of Thomistic passions. Secondly, even if the passions are contentful, it is not clear whether their contents accurately report the value of things with respect to ethical goals. Descartes frequently warns that the passions provide unreliable ethical guidance because they report on good and evil with respect to more bodily and animalistic aims: bodily health, self-preservation and the continuation of the species In taking up this question, I am guided by the work of Cambridge Platonist, Henry More. More offered a positive assessment of Descartes’s theory of the passions, which served as the basis for More’s ethical theory in the Enchiridion Ethicum. More’s astute reading of Descartes is useful to my investigation both because he reads the Cartesian passions as contentful mental states and because he uses this reading to explain their accuracy and reliability with respect to virtue. Following More's interpretation, I argue that Descartes recognizes a category of passions—including, most notably, the passion of generosity and the passions following from it—that are more ethically reliable and that serve roughly the same ethical functions as the affections of More's boniform faculty. (shrink)

There is widespread scholarly disagreement whether Hobbesian passions are or involve a type of cognition (i.e., imagination). This largely overlooked disagreement has implications for our understanding of Hobbesian deliberation. If passions are intrinsically cognitive, then, because Hobbesian deliberation is a series of alternating passions, deliberation would appear to be intrinsically cognitive as well. In this paper, I bring to light this overlooked disagreement and argue for a non-cognitive reading of Hobbesian passions, according to which, a passion (...) is an appetite or aversion caused by, but distinct from, an imagination of a future good or harm. (shrink)

Contrary to the fairly standard view of Aquinas on temperance according to which this virtue habituates the concupiscible appetite to move in ways that accord with reason spontaneously, that is, independently of any immediate command from reason, the author of this paper argues that temperance is a virtue which "(1) disposes the concupiscible appetite to remain more or less still in the absence of any command from reason to move, thus preventing vehement, spontaneous passions of any sort, ordinate or (...) inordinate, from arising in the concupiscible appetite prior to reason's immediate command; and (2) also disposes the concupiscible appetite to obey reason's command so that a person may incite, increase, decrease, or curb a passion as needed." The paper ends by noting a lacuna in Aquinas's teaching on temperance. (shrink)

This book is an anthology with the following themes. Non-European Tradition: Bussanich interprets main themes of Hindu ethics, including its roots in ritual sacrifice, its relationship to religious duty, society, individual human well-being, and psychic liberation. To best assess the truth of Hindu ethics, he argues for dialogue with premodern Western thought. Pfister takes up the question of human nature as a case study in Chinese ethics. Is our nature inherently good (as Mengzi argued) or bad (Xunzi’s view)? Pfister ob- (...) serves their underlying agreement, that human beings are capable of becoming good, and makes precise the disagreement: whether we achieve goodness by cultivating autonomous feelings or by accepting external precepts. There are political consequences: whether government should aim to respect and em- power individual choices or to be a controlling authority. Early Greek Thinking: Collobert examines the bases of Homeric ethics in fame, prudence, and shame, and how these guide the deliberations of heroes. She observes how, by depending upon the poet’s words, the hero gains a quasi- immortality, although in truth there is no consolation for each person’s inevi- table death. Plato: Santas examines Socratic Method and ethics in Republic 1. There Socrates examines definitions of justice and tests them by comparison to the arts and sciences. Santas shows the similarities of Socrates’ method to John Rawls’ method of considered judgments in reflective equilibrium. McPherran interprets Plato’s religious dimension as like that of his teacher Socrates. McPherran shows how Plato appropriates, reshapes, and extends the religious conventions of his own time in the service of establishing the new enterprise of philosophy. Ac- cording to Taylor, Socrates believes that humans in general have the task of helping the gods by making their own souls as good as possible, and Socrates’ unique ability to cross-examine imposes on him the special task of helping others to become as good as possible. This conception of Socrates’ mission is Plato’s own, consisting in an extension of the traditional conception of piety as helping the gods. Brickhouse and Smith propose a new understanding of Socratic moral psychology—one that retains the standard view of Socrates as an intellectualist, but also recognizes roles in human agency for appetites and passions. They compare and contrast the Socratic view to the picture of moral psychology we get in other dialogues of Plato. Hardy also proposes a new, non-reductive understanding of Socratic eudaimonism—he argues that Socrates invokes a very rich and complex notion of the “Knowledge of the Good and Bad”, which is associated with the motivating forces of the virtues. Rudebusch defends Socrates’ argument that knowledge can never be impotent in the face of psychic passions. He considers the standard objections: that knowledge cannot weigh incom- mensurable human values, and that brute desire, all by itself, is capable of moving the soul to action. Aristotle: Anagnostopoulos interprets Aristotle on the nature and acquisition of virtue. Though virtue of character, aiming at human happiness, requires a complex awareness of multiple dimensions of one’s experience, it is not properly a cognitive capacity. Thus it requires habituation, not education, according to Aristotle, in order to align the unruly elements of the soul with reason’s knowledge of what promotes happiness. Shields explains Aristotle’s doctrine that goodness is meant in many ways as the doctrine that there are different analyses of goodness for different types of circumstance, just as for being. He finds Aristotle to argue for this conclusion, against Plato’s doctrine of the unity of the Good, by applying the tests for homonymy and as an immediate cons- equence of the doctrine of categories. Shields evaluates the issue as unresolved at present. Russell discusses Aristotle’s account of practical deliberation and its virtue, intelligence (phronesis). He relates the account to contemporary philo- sophical controversies surrounding Aristotle’s view that intelligence is neces- sary for moral virtue, including the objections that in some cases it is unnecessary or even impedes human goodness. Frede examines the advantages and disadvantages of Aristotle’s virtue ethics. She explains the general Greek con- ceptions of happiness and virtue, Aristotle’s conception of phronesis and compares the Aristotle’s ethics with modern accounts. Liske discusses the question of whether the Aristotelian account of virtue entails an ethical-psy- chological determinism. He argues that Aristotle’s understanding of hexis allows for free action and ethical responsibility : By making decisions for good actions we are able to stabilize our character (hexis). Hellenistic and Roman: Annas defends an account of stoic ethics, according to which the three parts of Stoicism—logic, physics, and ethics—are integrated as the parts of an egg, not as the parts of a building. Since by this analogy no one part is a foundation for the rest, pedagogical decisions may govern the choice of numerous, equally valid, presentations of Stoic ethics. Piering interprets the Cynic way of life as a distinctive philosophy. In their ethics, Cynics value neither pleasure nor tradition but personal liberty, which they achieve by self-suffi- ciency and display in speech that is frank to the point of insult. Plotinus and Neoplatonism: Gerson outlines the place of ordinary civic virtue as well as philosophically contemplative excellence in Neoplatonism. In doing so he attempts to show how one and the same good can be both action-guiding in human life and be the absolute simple One that grounds the explanation of everything in the universe. Delcomminette follows Plotinus’s path to the Good as the foundation of free will, first in the freedom of Intellect and then in the “more than freedom” of the One. Plotinus postulates these divinities as not outside but within each self, saving him from the contradiction of an external foundation for a truly free will. General Topics: Halbig discusses the thesis on the unity of virtues. He dis- tinguishes the thesis of the identity of virtues and the thesis of a reciprocity of virtues and argues that the various virtues form a unity (in terms of reciprocity) since virtues cannot bring about any bad action. Detel examines Plato’s and Aristotle’s conceptions of normativity : Plato and Aristotle (i) entertained hybrid theories of normativity by distinguishing functional, semantic and ethical normativity, (ii) located the ultimate source of normativity in standards of a good life, and thus (iii) took semantic normativity to be a derived form of normativity. Detel argues that hybrid theories of normativity are—from a mo- dern point of view—still promising. Ho ̈ffe defends the Ancient conception of an art of living against Modern objections. Whereas many Modern philosophers think that we have to replace Ancient eudaimonism by the idea of moral obligation (Pflicht), Ho ̈ffe argues that Eudaimonism and autonomy-based ethics can be reconciled and integrated into a comprehensive and promising theory of a good life, if we enrich the idea of autonomy by the central elements of Ancient eudaimonism. Some common themes: The topics in Chinese and Hindu ethics are perhaps more familiar to modern western sensibilities than Homeric and even Socratic. Anagnostopoulos, Brickhouse and Smith, Frede, Liske, Rudebusch, and Russell all consider in contrasting ways the role of moral character, apart from intellect, in ethics. Brickhouse / Smith, Hardy, and Rudebusch discuss the Socratic con- ception of moral knowledge. Brickhouse / Smith and Hardy retain the standard view of the so called Socratic Intellectualism. Shields and Gerson both consider the question whether there is a single genus of goodness, or if the term is a homonym. Bussanich, McPherran, Taylor, and Delcomminette all consider the relation between religion and ethics. Pfister, Piering, Delcomminette, and Liske all consider what sort of freedom is appropriate to human well-being. Halbig, Detel, and Ho ̈ffe propose interpretations of main themes of Ancient ethics. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:BOOK REVIEWS The Moral Virtues and Theological Ethics. By RoMANUS CESSARIO, O.P. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1991. Pp. x +204. $24.95. What we learn from Holy Scripture about the kind of life which God commands us to lead depends in key part upon our prior natural and rational understanding of many of the key expressions used in Scripture. So it is with those expressions which name (...) and characterize the virtues. We are commanded not only to do certain types of action and to refrain from others, but also to become a certain type of person, one whose qualities of character are such that our actions spring from and give expression to those qualities. We are required not only to do what is just and courageous and temperate, but to do it because we ourselves have become just, courageous, and temperate, injunctions that we could not adequately understand, let alone obey, were it not for a prior knowledge of what these virtues are and what it is that makes them virtues. Moreover we also learn from Scripture about how we fail and about how we are called to account for our failures in the virtues. So we need also to know what it is to develop the virtues and what it is to fail or to be frustrated in that development. Few Christians are or can be theorists of the virtues; but every Christian by her or his actions presupposes the truth of some kind of theory of the virtues and of their development, a theory which, even when not explicitly articulated, enables her or him to find application for the Scriptures in the actions and transactions of everyday life. And every pastor and preacher has to draw upon the resources of some such theory. No theory of this kind can be adequate unless it satisfies two standards: that of fidelity to Scripture and that of conformity to the best understanding which philosophy and the human sciences afford of how human beings are constituted by appetites, passions, will, and reason. What would the content and structure of such a theory, satisfying these two standards, have to be? This is the question posed and answered by Romanus Cessario in his unusually important, stimulating, and incisive book. The content and structure of the theory which he presents are essentially Thomistic, but his theory is only incidentally and in part a historical exposition of St. Thomas's account. It is Thomistic rather in that it uses resources drawn from that account in order to address issues in contemporary moral theology, resources which enable him to identify and to formulate crucial but sometimes neglected 339 340 BOOK REVIEWS questions, as well as to propose answers to them. And in so doing, as we shall see, he presses inquiry to a point such that he needs to go he· yond what St. Thomas provides. Cessario's claim throughout is that the teaching of Scripture can become adequately intelligible to us only in the light afforded by a systematic understanding of the virtues, moral, intellectual, and theological. The only plausible alternatives to the type of theory which he proposes do not include some type of atheoretical reliance on scripture. Plausible alternative standpoints always involve open or covert appeal to some other rival type of moral theory. And Cessario from time to time provides acute and telling criticisms of some of the alternatives more influential at present. But he is careful to avoid :more than a bare minimum of such polemic, sometimes even too careful. In his first chapter, for example, Cessario recognizes that what he has to say about the radical nature of the transformation of character required by the Christian life and of the distinctive qualities of that life puts him at odds with certain theses of Karl Rahner. He notes almost in passing that it is his allegiance to metaphysical realism (with its claims about the teleological ordering of human nature) which gen· erates this conflict with Rahner's positions-positions which of course depend heavily on Heideggerian borrowings. But he never pursues the philosophical issues which divide Thomistic metaphysics from Rahner's blending of Heidegger with a theology aptly... (shrink)

Colleen McCluskey begins Thomas Aquinas on Moral Wrongdoing with an overview of Aquinas’s account of human nature and his theory of human action. She discusses the powers of the soul, including the sensory appetite and its passions, the intellect, and the will. Crucially, she devotes considerable attention to the ways in which the passions can affect the intellect’s judgment and, thereby, the will. She then explores Aquinas’s account of the ontological status of evil as a privation, arguing that (...) criticisms of the privation theory can be met, though the theory is not enough by itself to acquit God of responsibility for the existence of evil. The centerpiece of Thomas Aquinas on Wrongdoing is a careful exploration of Aquinas’s understanding of the three sources of moral wrongdoing: defects in the intellect, defects in the sensory appetite, and defects in the will. Finally, McCluskey examines vices, which are firmly rooted dispositions, acquired by repeated action, that prompt particular acts of wrongdoing. She provides a helpful overview of Aquinas’s treatment of the vices both in ST II-II, where the vices are discussed in relation to the virtues to which they are opposed, and in the contemporaneous De malo, questions 9–15, in which Gregory the Great’s list of seven capital vices provides the structuring principle. (shrink)

Since Austin and Searle, performatives are taken to be crucial for the construction of social reality. More recently, performatives have been proposed to be essential for the construction of personal identities, too. I intend to analyze the postmodern assumption according to which this identity construction is in the power of individuals, an assumption which presupposes a view of performatives as endowed with unconstrained power – that is, with a power that is not subject to objective constraints. I will consider some (...) reasons to reject this view. The first is rooted in Judith Butler’s idea that – since normative approaches to political correctness undesirably reduce freedom of speech in the name of equality – we should seriously consider how offensive performatives may fail, due to objective constraints on their felicity. A second reason to reject the postmodern view of performatives lies in the consideration of narcissism as an individual and political issue. Narcissism in the political sphere can be described as a transformation of the “passion for equality” in an individualistic appetite, deaf to everything else, and especially to social constraints and responsibilities. A different – less narcissistic and more social – model of the self is provided. (shrink)

The aim of this article is to examine some of the anatomical implications of Campanella's theory of magic, focusing in particular on his crìtique of Aristotle's and Galen's anatomical views. By magic Campanella meant first and foremost communication of energy and knowledge. It is no accident that he viewed both medicine and rhetoric as constitutive disciplines of magic. In doing so, he appealed to the time-honoured notion of the magic of the word theorised in ancient times by the sophist Gorgias. (...) The distinctive feature in Campanella's system of magic is that the word is both a symbolic and a physical entity. Meaning flows from nature to the mind and from the mind to nature. Words are both carriers of meanings and physical agents of psychosomatic transformation. As can be demonstrated by pointing to such paradigmatic cases as natural divination and prophecy, the force of the imagination, the patient's trust in the power of the physician or the healer, and the many influences that air exercises on the body, Campanella's theory of magic rests on a definite anatomo-physiological basis. The most original aspect, though, is the way in which Campanella reinterpreted Arìstotle's and Galen's prìnciples of anatomy so that he could adapt his medical views to the broader framework of his theory of magic (practice), on the one hand, and metaphysics (theory), on the other. In addition, Campanella's onginal account of emotions and passions supported a comprehensive system of magical practice that dispensed with the basic principles of both Aristotle's and Galen's physiology. Campanella was convinced that the vital operations of the body could not be explained by simply relying on the unsentient functions of the vegetative soul (Aristotle) or on the natural faculties of the body (Galen), nor could they be accounted for by assuming the existence of incorporeal souls (Aristotle) or bodily temperaments (Galen). By circumventing both Aristotle's hylomorphism and Galen's vital matenalism of the temperaments, and by appropriating the Stoic view of rational pneuma, he managed to produce a physiological model that was more flexible in dealing with the complex interplay of knowledge, action and appetite, and above all, better suited to account for a universe in which the flow of life and meaning encompassed varìous levels of communication. (shrink)

Descartes set for himself the ambitious program of accounting for the functions of the Aristotelian vegetative and sensitive souls without invoking souls or the faculties or powers of souls in his explanations. He rejects the notion that the soul is hylomorphically present in the organs of the body so as to carry out vital and sensory functions. Rather, the body’s organs operate in a purely mechanical fashion. That is what is involved in “mechanizing” these phenomena. The role of the soul (...) is restricted to properly mental functions: to the conscious aspects of sensations and other mental operations; to intellectual acts; and to acts of volition. In effect, soul becomes mind. In order to understand the extent of Descartes’ ambition, this chapter first considers more fully the functions attributed to the soul or to the vital faculties in the Aristotelian and Galenic traditions, and especially the functions of the sensitive soul or power. It draws attention to the cognitive aspects of these functions, beyond the mere operation of the external senses. Then it turns to Descartes’ mechanistic explanations for these cognitive functions. Finally, it situates Descartes’ new mechanistic psychology within the larger context of his novel anthropology, or theory of the human being. (shrink)

Law, often neglected in treatments of the Republic, is essential to the philosopher-kings’ rule. Only law accomplishes the partial divinization of citizens at which philosophical politics aims. Socrates’ interrogation of Thrasymachus and Glaucon reveals law to be a command whereby citizens participate in philosophical knowledge and limit the pleonexia congenital to humanity. Law does so primarily by instilling in souls a true opinion resistant to pleonectic passion, producing a state of political virtue. This primary work is supported by the musical (...) and poetical education, itself shaped by law for the sake of law. Law persuades and compels the soul by appealing to both reason and spiritedness, enabling them to overcome the appetites. The soul’s consequent acceptance of truth and resistance to the passions indeed makes it resemble divinity. In so transforming the citizens through the law, the philosopher-king also unifies the city and makes it happy under his rule. (shrink)

We propose an action-oriented understanding of emotion. Emotions are modifications of a basic form of goal-oriented striving characteristic of human life. They are appetitive orientations: pursuits of the good, avoidances of the bad. Thus, emotions are not truly distinct from, let alone opposed to, actions -- as erroneously suggested by the classical understanding of emotions as 'passions'. In the present paper, we will outline and defend this broadly enactive approach and motivate its main claims. Our proposal gains plausibility from (...) a literature- and interview-based investigation of emotional changes characteristic of clinical depression. Much narrative evidence from patient reports points towards the conclusion that many of those changes might result from a catastrophic alteration of the basic form of goal-pursuit at the root of human emotionality. The experience of profound depression could in this respect be a kind of inverted image of non-pathological emotionality--a highly unnatural passivity, giving rise to a profound -- and quite horrifying -- sense of incapacity. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Philosophy 42.1 (2004) 98-99 [Access article in PDF] Henrik Lagerlund and Mikko Yrjönsuuri, editors. Emotions and Choice from Boethius to Descartes. Dordrecht, Netherlands: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 2002. Pp. xi + 342. Paper $38.00. This book contains twelve essays that work together to trace a variety of theories of emotion, intellect, and will, specifically connected to the possibility of moral decision and action, that run (...) from the late ancient period to the early modern period. Though some essays are more history than philosophy, the collection nevertheless balances out and brings to the reader an in-depth study of what the editors rightly describe as a neglected field of research. Contributors are: Calvin Normore, Simo Knuuttila, Risto Saarinen, Mikko Yrjonsuuri, John Boler, Vesa Hirvonen, Henrik Lagerlund, Lorenzo Casini, Peter King, Deborah Brown, and Lilli Alanen.It is clear from the editors' introduction that the idea behind the collection is the piecing together of a complex patchwork of theories, showing how they form a single, coherent intellectual history from Boethius to Descartes. Time will tell whether the story told holds up. Several of the essays bring to light previously ignored philosophers of the medieval and scholastic periods who are seen as important players in the history being worked out. And, several essays (Brown's and Alanen's, e.g.) forward new and interesting—though arguably controversial—takes on philosophers well known to many (in their cases, Descartes). So, there is much worth looking at here.There are a few philosophical landmines. For example, in places authors seem unconcerned about potential problems arising from the way in which a view is stated. For instance, in explaining how a human being wills, the view that the willing is done via a faculty inherent in the soul is developed. This, of course, is all well and good. But, the author goes on to say, "If whatever the will wills is attained..." (18), which makes the will the subject of willing, not the human being. The will is also said to have passions, and the rational part of the soul an appetitive faculty (ibid.). So, is it that human beings do not will and do not have passions, but the wills will and have passions? Doesn't such a 'theory' simply push back what it is that needs to be explained? For, how does the will will? Does it have a faculty that wills, and so on? The trouble is that the reader is not sure whether the landmine is inherent in the view being discussed, an artifact of the text, or something invented by an author in the exegesis itself. [End Page 98]The river is high with respect to the readings. And so, it is not recommended to those coming, for example, to the topics of rational choice, free will, or weakness of will for the first time. However, it is highly recommended to those whose research deals with such topics, or is in the field of the history of philosophy of mind. Kurt Smith Bloomsburg University of Pennsylvania... (shrink)

In Romans 7:14-25, Paul declares, "For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want, is what I do" (KJV). St. Paul's statement is a universal truth for all human beings; humans--whether Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, or atheists--are prone to committing free actions that are not "good." Furthermore, and irrespective of how we might construe the notion of "good" (whether as acting in accordance with some religious or spiritual precept or simply doing what (...) is in one's best interest), we often knowingly and freely choose actions that may, or in fact do, harm us. There is a name given to such actions. We call them "weak-willed." "Weakness of will," or akrasia, has perplexed philosophers, theologians, and laypersons alike for centuries. This book reveals why the idea has caused so much bafflement and consternation for so many. The main thrust of the work, however, is to illuminate and inspire: Lightbody seeks to demonstrate, concretely, how and why we are weak-willed. By extracting an "alchemical touchstone" from Plato's middle period philosophy, Lightbody, in addition, reveals how we may transmute harmful appetites into life-edifying passions. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Leviathan after 350 YearsSharon VaughanTom Sorell and Luc Foisneau, editors. Leviathan after 350 Years. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2004. Pp. x + 308. Cloth, $74.00The editors introduce this collection as a testament to the continuing importance of Leviathan in political thought. Divided into three parts, these twelve essays are some of the papers presented at a May 2001 conference to mark the 350th anniversary of Leviathan's publication. Readers might (...) expect a discussion about Leviathan's endurance and relevance as a fundamental text of political philosophy, but this is not the book's main thrust. Instead, the authors engage in a discussion concerning some of the most provocative and controversial questions about Leviathan. Much of the debate centers on how one should interpret it, forcing readers not only to reconsider crucial parts of Hobbes's philosophy, but also the act of interpretation.Part one examines the place that Leviathan holds among Hobbes's political writings. Karl Schumann argues that one should not think of Leviathan as a radical departure from De Cive and that it did not mark the culmination of Hobbes's development as a political philosopher (14). Schumann's essay is not convincing because he effectively points out the consequential ways that Leviathan is distinct. Ted H. Miller suggests, "Leviathan's uniqueness is rooted in its poetic-philosophical innovations"(103). He points out that David Johnston, Quentin Skinner, and others have stressed the significance of its rhetorical style. Miller, however, proposes that it was the context and the company that Hobbes kept during this time that influenced his writing style. Kinch Hoekstra suggests that Hobbes is an unusual de facto theorist and Luc Foisneau believes that Leviathan is unique because of its theory of justice.Part two is devoted to investigating passions and politics in Leviathan. Richard Tuck believes that Hobbes's political philosophy is utopian because it demands a radical transformation of humans as passionate beings. Tuck says that while the Leviathan provides citizens with security, "they are also going to live a life without pride, their sense of their own individual importance reduced to nothing in the face of their commonwealth" (138). Tuck's essay stands in contrast to Tom Sorrell's analysis of the burdens on the sovereign. He concludes that he must be an individual with little, if any, regard for his own ambitions and passions (196). What one is left with is a Hobbesian version of a philosopher king who has his personal appetites in check always looking out for what benefits his subjects. Is [End Page 210] there any guarantee that the sovereign will be non-egotistical and public-spirited? No, because the sovereign has absolute freedom. Sorrell believes, however, that it is in the sovereign's best interest to be unselfish if she is to maintain her sovereignty (193).Quentin Skinner analyzes the classical theory of laughter, relating it to Hobbes's complicated views about it. Political agency in Leviathan is Yves Zarka's topic. It seems that the citizen is merely a subject, but Zarka cautions that one must carefully read the text and remember that certain rights are inalienable. How far one may take what Zarka interprets as the "the right of resistance" remains a debatable question (182). He believes that one might rethink Leviathan as a more complex piece of political philosophy by practicing "back-to front reading" as opposed to a direct-method reading of the text (182). Zarka thinks that citizens may have a more complex and passionate role than commonly thought (182). This is an alluring suggestion, but it is difficult to accept in light of Hobbes's preoccupation with security and obedience.The role of biblical and political authority is the theme for part three. Edwin Curley argues that Hobbes's treatment of covenants with God was possibly a vehicle for him to arouse skepticism about Christianity among his readers. A. P. Martinich rejects Curley's claim and concludes that not only does his argument fail on grounds of logic, but also it requires far too much "reading between the lines" (223). Martinich's analytic rigor and his attention to the process of interpretation raise serious doubts about Curley... (shrink)

The vice of acedia deserves—and rewards—a closer reading than is implied in the old rendering ‘sloth’, or even in contemporary readings of ‘spiritual sloth’. Such is at least true in Aquinas’s Summa Theologiae, the subject of the following close reading of this enigmatic vice. Investigating the question on acedia and its grounding in portions of I-II, I first establish acedia’s basis not in a sovereign spiritual ‘choice’ but in the sensitive appetite and the passion of sorrow. This turns the portrait (...) of acedia’s ‘patients’ from those who avoid to those who embrace the labors of love, those who experience acedia’s sorrow in the very midst of pursuing divine joy. A third section steps back to show the entire problem of acedia, including its ‘slothful’ effects, in terms of this one fundamental sorrow that suppresses joy—real rest—in the Lord. I end with Thomas’s remedy, the hope-charged possibility of rising up in defense of the divine joy, turning back acedia’s sorrow at every point of its attack and reclaiming the pleasure of sharing in God’s life. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Madness of the Philosophers, Madness of the ClinicJames Phillips (bio)KeywordsPhilosophy, insanity, moral, natural, Hegel, KierkegaardDaniel Berthold's "Talking Cures: A Lacanian Reading of Hegel and Kierkegaard on Language and Madness" is an eloquent discussion of speech, silence, and the 'talking cure' in the three figures highlighted in the title. There is much to admire in this paper. The treatment of speech and silence in the thought of Hegel and Kierkegaard, (...) with many well-chosen quotations, offers much for reflection, both with respect to these philosophers and more generally with respect to the human condition. This is a paper that deserves more than one reading. I find nothing to criticize here and intend the following as further discussion of the themes Berthold has brought to us. Taking his cue from Lacan and reading back into the nineteenth-century figures from the perspective of Lacan's emphasis on language and what he (Lacan) terms the Symbolic, Berthold explores the question of madness in Hegel and Kierkegaard. In my remarks, I connect Berthold's analysis with older traditions of madness, distinguishing what I call the madness of the philosophers and the madness of the clinic.With the phrase, madness of the philosophers, I refer to a longstanding philosophic tradition that opposes reason and passion and attributes madness to an excess of the latter. In Berthold's paper, Hegel is the representative of this position, with his description of madness as a regression into the primitive "life of feeling." As Berthold puts it:For Hegel, madness is a "reversion" or "withdrawal" or "sinking back" of the rational consciousness into the primitive world of instincts and drives, or what Hegel calls "the life of feeling" (Gufühlsleben), which he locates in "the soul," where the "mind is still in the grip of nature"... The soul is "the form of the dull stirring, the inarticulate breathing of the spirit through its unconscious individuality" (in seiner besusstlosen Individualität)... The mind becomes "mastered" by the archaic, unconscious drives of the soul: "the natural self... gains mastery over the... rational consciousness."(2009, 301)Taking off from Lacan in his interpretation of Hegel, Berthold associates reason with language—or, in Lacan's terminology—the register of the Symbolic. Hegel's "life of feeling"—or of passion—is inarticulate, primitive, and vulnerable to madness.Berthold analyzes Kierkegaard in these categories. On the one hand, Kierkegaard is driven to silence, subjectivity, and inwardness as the native [End Page 313] ground of faith. On the other hand, he recognizes something maddening in his extreme solitude, and acknowledges his need to write as a form of self-therapy: "If I stop [writing] for a few days, right away I become ill.... So powerful an urge, so ample, so inexhaustible [is my need to write], subsist[ing] day after day for... years." Kierkegaard's compromise is his "indirect communication." By Berthold's account, Kierkegaard's silence does not rate very high for Hegel and Lacan. For Hegel it represents a regression into the primitive "life of feeling." For Lacan, Kierkegaard's silent inner self is "a myth—a 'shapeless vapor,' 'absolutely nothing.'" As we shall see, Kierkegaard's ambivalence toward silence and speech (or writing) does not fit neatly into the equation of silence and madness.What, however, in contrast to this madness of the philosophers, is the madness of the clinic?1 It is madness caused by disease, whether the latter be understood in ancient terminology of humors, or more modern terminology of brain disease. For a quick review of how clinical madness has played off against the madness of the philosophers, we can turn to the philosophers themselves, invoking Plato as our first guide, because he speaks of both kinds of madness. On the one hand, with his tripartite division of the soul, he is one of the inaugurators of the philosophic vision of madness as an overcoming of the rational part of the soul by the appetitive side. On the other hand, he implicitly endorses the Hippocratic, medical view of madness with a statement like this: "A man who commits one of these crimes might be suffering from insanity, or be as good as insane either because... (shrink)

The mention of “self-control” calls up certain stock images: Saint Augustine struggling to renounce carnal pleasures; dispassionate Mr. Spock of Star Trek; the dieter faced with tempting desserts. In these stock images reason is almost always assigned the power and authority to govern passions, desires, and appetites. But what if the passions were given the power to rule—what if, instead of sovereign reason, there were sovereign sentiments? My dissertation examines three sentimentalist conceptions of self-control: David Hume’s conception (...) of “strength of mind”; Adam Smith’s conception of “self-command”; and Jane Austen’s examination of these conceptions. Hume divests reason of motivational power, and with this new moral psychology comes a new conception of self-control. Humean strength of mind is indirect, artificial, and social—a regulatory system that humans cannot develop until societal systems of government and regulations have been instituted. Smith accepts Hume’s anti-rationalist arguments, but he emphasizes that only certain sentiments are fit to rule. And he argues that self-control develops without the sophisticated external conditions posited by Hume. Smithian self-command is the capacity to modify one’s feelings in accordance with a regulative ideal: the sentiments of an imagined impartial spectator. Austen responds to these conceptions, illustrating and complicating them. Sense and Sensibility explores the difficulties of discerning the feelings of others, and Persuasion dramatizes the difficulties of distinguishing strength of mind in another, offering sets of characters for the reader’s scrutiny, each with a competing claim to strength of mind. Taken together, Austen’s novels offer a fuller and more delicately shaded depiction of the sort of self-control that Hume and Smith imagine in their philosophical works. (shrink)

A philosophical primer designed for the general reader as well as professionals in various fields, this book studies sex in itself and in its relation to love and compassion. It distinguishes between 'sensuous' and 'passionate' elements of sexuality and shows how sex in human beings is both appetitive and interpersonal. It then explores the ways in which our sexuality is always subject to aesthetic and moral valuation in relation to the appetitive and interpersonal coordinates.

The Protagoras is the touchstone of Socrates’ moral intellectualist stance. The position in a nutshell stipulates that the proper reevaluation of a desire is enough to neutralize it.[1] The implication of this position is that akrasia or weakness of will is not the result of desire (or fear for that matter) overpowering reason but is due to ignorance. -/- Socrates’ eliminativist position on weakness of will, however, flies in the face of the common-sense experience regarding akratic action and thus Aristotle (...) was at pains to render Socrates’ account of moral incontinence intelligible. The key improvement Aristotle makes to Socrates’s model is to underscore that the conditioning of the akratic’s body plays a critical role in determining the power of one’s appetites and, accordingly, the capacity of one to resist the temptations these appetites present for rational evaluation. As Aristotle puts it, “For the incontinent man is like the people who get drunk quickly and on little wine, i.e., on less than most people.” (1151a 3-4). Aristotle presents what I shall call a somatic paradigm (i.e. the drunkard analogy) in order to tackle the problem of akrasia and it is this somatic solution that marks a significant improvement over Socrates’s intellectualist or informational model or so the tradition tells us. -/- In this paper, I wish to push back on the above Aristotelian explanation. I argue that when one fully examines Socrates’ account of weakness of will that Aristotle’s solution is less effective than is traditionally thought. In fact, Socrates can bring Aristotle’s model into his own; just as Aristotle absorbs what is right about Socrates’s model, namely, that akratic action utilizes reason but to a limited degree, Socrates in Meno (77C-78A) develops his own somatic model of weakness of will that connects to the intellectualist paradigm of the Protagoras. To achieve this rapprochement between the two models, I zero in on the description provided by Socrates of those individuals who desire bad things knowing they are bad as “ill-starred” or “bad spirited” (κακοδαίμων ). The “bad-spirited” is the coward and, in contrast to Aristotle’s drunkard, becomes fearful quickly from little danger. This additional somatic component, when connected to Socrates’s position on akrasia in Protagoras adds a new twist to Socrates’s model in the following way: while no one wishes to be ill-starred such that more harm than good will befall one, one may become so as a result of the bad choices one knowingly makes. -/- -/- [1] “After him came Socrates, who spoke better and further about this subject, but even he was not successful. For he used to make the virtues into sciences, and this is impossible. For the sciences all involve reason, and reason is to be found in the intellectual part of the soul. So that all the virtues, according to him arise in the rational part of the soul. The result is that in making the virtues into sciences he is doing away with the nonrational part of the soul and is thereby doing away with passion and character…” (Aristotle, Magna Moralia 1.1. 1182 a15-26). (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Sympathy in Mind (1876–1900)Susan LanzoniIn the April 1884 issue of Mind, William James published his influential account of emotion, which stressed the bodily and physiological constitution of various feeling-states.1 The article reflected new trends in physiological psychology, but came under attack by numerous respondents in the journal who argued that there was more to the emotions than physiology.2 As the evolutionary psychologist Hiram Stanley intoned, "emotions in the higher (...) stages are filled out by knowledge and will."3 Many noted that the higher emotions—aesthetic sentiments, sympathy, pity, envy, love—were not marked by clear physiological changes. Charles Darwin had observed that love was not discernable by prominent facial expressions.4 There was also little agreement as to how to divide sentiments from appetites, affections, and passions. What came to be known as the James-Lange theory [End Page 265] of emotion, then, was only one of a variety of theories of emotion circulating in Anglo-American intellectual culture of the late nineteenth century.5In debates about the nature of emotion, the higher emotions—particularly that of sympathy—played a crucial role. Sympathy was most often understood to be a kind of tenderheartedness linked to, but distinct from love. At the same time, sympathy was tethered to a variety of moral and epistemological ends—as a cornerstone in evolutionary ethics, an element in aesthetic appreciation, and even as a source for knowledge of other minds. Sympathy had had a prominent place in eighteenth-century theories of aesthetics, moral sentiments and taste, in the writings of Adam Smith and Edmund Burke. In the late Victorian period, theories of sympathy drew on this lineage and increasingly became tinged with evolutionary and developmental features.Although sympathy in the Victorian period has gained the attention of literary scholars, historians of the mind sciences have not paid it much due, even though its psychological origins and moral correlates were of sustained interest in this period.6 Stefan Collini has argued that British intellectual culture was intrigued by the interplay of egoistic and altruistic tendencies, and the birth of a number of ethical societies in the final two decades of the century attests to the increased emphasis on the moral dimensions of sympathy.7 Anti-vivisection movements and societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals and children, often with appeals to sympathy, gained adherents in this period in Britain and America.8 In one study, [End Page 266] psychologists distributed scientific questionnaires in order to assess the experiences of sympathy and pity of nearly four hundred subjects.9 There was no underestimating the importance of sympathy for Anglo-American intellectuals, who confidently claimed it was becoming more refined and more widely diffused in their era. Darwin believed that sympathy had been extended to those of the same nation, and prescriptively wrote that it should extend to all nations and races, as well as the imbecile and the maimed. Darwin was echoing here the broader enlightenment sentimentalist tradition that linked the feeling of sympathy to a conception of humanity.10In the pages of the British professional psychological and philosophical journal Mind, sympathy was under scrutiny by scholars in evolutionary and developmental psychology, ethics, and aesthetics. This journal, first published in 1876, and funded by Alexander Bain, examined new trends in physiological and scientific psychology and sought a broad philosophical framework for the understanding of mental life.11 It played a mediating role in the overlapping discussions of science and philosophy and published on a diverse array of topics. Although Mind saw itself as a specialized journal for psychology and philosophy, it was founded at an historical moment when discussions of the mind were not narrowly portioned out to the psychological sciences, as would increasingly be the case after 1900. Indeed, the experimental psychological laboratory emerged as a new scientific institution [End Page 267] only in 1879 with Wilhelm Wundt's Leipzig laboratory, and then in 1897 at the Universities of London and Cambridge. Specialization in the late Victorian age on topics relating to the mind was downright eclectic: during the editorships of George Croom Robertson (1876–1892) and of G.F. Stout (1892–1920), Mind published on physiological... (shrink)

ABSTRACT For Victoria Kahn, Hobbes' argument that fear of violent death is “the passion to be reckoned upon” in explaining what inclines men to peace must be interpreted as a mimetic argument. However, Kahn then notes a paradox that makes Hobbes' thinking problematic: whereas love and the desires are appetites that produce an imitative effect, fear is different. Though also a passion, fear lacks that capacity to produce a mimetic effect or, therefore, to generate a contract. My hypothesis is (...) that resolving the dilemma presented in Kahn's interpretation of Hobbes requires a shift in attention from mimesis to rhetoric and, more specifically, to biological rhetoric as defined by Nancy Struever. This approach to Hobbes makes it possible to understand the rhetorical role of fear in generating and maintaining the social contract, and how the problem that Kahn signals—the impotence of fear in relation to mimesis—can be resolved. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hume's Natural History: Religion and "Explanation" M. JAMIE FERREIRA HUME'S BOLDLYSIMPLESTATEMENTof the genesis of religion--that "the anxious concern for happiness, the dread of future misery, the terror of death, the thirst for revenge, the appetite for food and other necessaries" led humankind to see "the first obscure traces of divinity"--is supported by appeals to what he considers plain common sense.' For example, given that at "the first origin of (...) society" (e4) our ancestors were obviously "ignorant and barbarous" (23), anxiously helpless in the face of threatening natural events--hence, obviously with neither the leisure nor the impulse nor the aptitude for serious reflection--it was obviously passionate fears and hopes, not reason, which motivated their beliefs. Given that the mind obviously "rises from inferior to superior," and that humankind obviouslyhasn't "inhabited palaces before huts and cottages or studied geometry before agriculture" (~4), polytheism obviously antedated monotheism. In the course of detailing his commonsensical account of the origin and development of religion, Hume highlights a wide variety of natural tendencies, principles, and propensities which are operative. Keith Yandell offers a recent reading of one such propensity at work in the origin of religion--namely, what Hume calls the "propensity of human nature, which leads into a system, that gives them some satisfaction" (29)--and Yandell explicitly takes it to be a propensity to an "explanatory" system.2 I want to argue in what follows that any reading of Hume's account of religion which highlights an explanatory motivation can be significantly misleading insofar as it obscures the way in which Hume's account differs markedly from other classical genetic accounts which emphasize explanation. ' The Natural History ofReligion, ed. H. E. Root (Stanford, CA, 1956), 28. Further parenthetical page references in the text will be to this work. His later formulation--"The primary religion of mankind arises chiefly from an anxious fear of future events" (65)--recalls Philo's pithy version, namely, "terror is the primary principle of religion" (Dialoguesconcerning Natural Religion, XII). ~Hume's "Inexplicable Mystery": His Views on Religion (Philadelphia, 199o), 9. Hereafter HIM. [5931 594 JOURNAL OF THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY 33:4 OCTOBER 1995 In his account of the "propensity of human nature, which leads into a system, that gives them some satisfaction," Yandell admits that "no explanation is given of exactly what sort of satisfaction is in question," yet he goes on without a pause to speak of how "people accept different and various explanatory systems"; referring to a natural "propensity to understand," he concludes that "for Hume, we need not accept a religious system of explanation, but most of us in fact do so."s I suggest that Yandell's shift from "system" to "explanatory system," which is unheralded, is of crucial significance because the emphasis on explanation tends to call to a reader's mind just the sort of appeal which Hume decisively rejects. I shall argue that Hume draws our attention to and decisively excludes from his account a concept of explanation which actually does play an important role in other parallel accounts--namely, a concept which focuses on the integrity of a broad picture and an ultimate accounting; Hume points to such a concept in his references to the "frame of the universe," "final causes," and the "first rise of the visible system." Such a role might seem to elaborate Hume's appeal to common sense--after all, isn't the natural response to "unknown causes" to try to understand them, and isn't the attempt to understand them the same as looking for an "ultimate" explanation, however crude it might be at the outset? Although this might seem commonsensical to others (as we shall see), I want to argue that what Hume sees at work in the origin of religion is not a search for such an explanation, even a crude one. Rather, on Hume's view the only curiosity at work is a curiosity about how to cope: the propensity to a system is the propensity to the kind of determinacy which is expedient for control, and the only satisfaction the system provides is one in terms of a coping which is independent of truth-seeking... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:AQUINAS ON THE ROLE OF EMOTION IN MORAL JUDGMENT AND ACTIVITY JUDITH BARAD Indiana State University Terre Haute, Indiana MONG PHILOSOPHERS who have discussed the role of emotion in morality there is much disagreement. At one extreme there is a tradition of ethical thinkers, represented by David Hume, who juxtapose reason and emotion and hoM that the choice of ultimate va:1ues is always made by the emotional side of (...) our natul'e. Insisting that emotion, not reason, is the foundation of moral philosophy, Hume says "Reason is, and ought to he, the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any office other than to serve and obey them." 1 Conv:erseily, Immanuel Kant adamantly insists that reason must be the sole determinant of morality. Since morality is stricrtly a rational endeavor, the emotions (or what he more generrully called the incJinations), whethei!.' beneficent or ma1e:fiicent, should never be alilowed to intrude into our moral judgments. Each extreme claims that a part of our nature, respectiv 'e,ly reason or emotion, is not essentirul to the moral life. Hut the be1lief that we shouM sev;er any part of our nature from swch a pervasive area of our lives leads to unfortunate consequen1ces. If we base our understanding of morality on Hume's call for the slavish submission of reason, we can justify all kinds of social exploitation and sensuous indulgence. On the other hand, if we follow Kant's ideal of suppressing our emotions, then bodi1ly desires can appear ba:d to us, and we may irrationaHy disaJfow many human needs, both to ourselv;es and to others. i David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature, 3, 3. 397 398.TUDITH BARAD But on this question of the role of emotion in mol'lwl judgment, Aquinas oiooupies a position intermediate between Kant and Hume. He neither dismisses reason as a guide to practical affairs nor regards emotions as mere obstacles to be overcome in form.mating a moral judgment. For Aquinas even though e&ch of the human £acmlties has a unique role to perform, an individual £unctions in his entirety in the moral sphere. This essay will focus on how our emotions can support as well as impruir our moraJ conduct. The purpose of this study is to show thrut emotion may be either 1an impediment or a usefuJ srtimu1us to obj·ectiv;e moral decision malcing, obscuring our morrul judgments or 11einfol'lcing our commitments. Obviously, Hume's argument ·that reason cannot judge or criticize the emotions is very foreign to Aquinas's thought, and no one has yet ruttemp ;!Jed 1to subsume one •ruooount under the other. Afan Donagan, however, has clwimed that Aquinas's moll"al theory " anticipates Kant's metaphysics of morals," because of what " both ~are] found to 1say about motiViation." 2 But, contrary to Donagan 's claim, this study will make clear rlihat in the area of how emotions a:ffrect our moral life ·the two g11eat thinkers pal'lt company. To understand how emotion :liun:ctions mthe moral judgment, we must fust examine what Aquinas means by "emotion." 3 He describes :emotion as a spontaneous.feeling consisting of both a phy;siofogical 1and an affective response to an object.4 He observes that emotion involves virtually ithe en2 Alan Donagan, " Teleology and Consistency in Theories of :Morality as Natural Law," in Georgetown Symposium on Ethics, edited by Rocco Porreca (Lanham, :Md.: University Press of America, 1984), p. 96. a Throughout this paper I will use the word "emotion " for the Latin passia, since " passion" has a more intense connotation in contemporary English than the term employed by Aquinas. "Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologica, (Westminster, :Md.: Christian Classics, 1981), I-II, q.22. In the first article of this question, Aquinas says that " Passion... is only in respect of a bodily transmutation." Quoting Damascene in the third article, he says " Passion is a movement of the sensi· tive appetite when we think of good or evil." I have combined both passages to arrive at Aquinas's description of emotion. AQUINAS ON EMOTIONS AND MORALS 399 tire human being: intd1ect, sense cognition, spontaneous volition, and bodily changes. Aquinas bases this position on his hylomorphic... (shrink)

Levinas himself raises the question: "why would I feel responsible in the presence of the Face" since "we are separate ontological beings?" This questions the character of our response to the other--both in terms of agency and motivation. While the general reception of Levinas's thought has focused on his description of us as "hostage"--that is, on the moment of assignation (or assignment) by the other--I suggest that Levinas himself also, though not as directly, addresses (as he needs to) the correlative (...) moment, the moment of response. My essay reconstructs Levinas's implicit understanding of the character of our initiative in the light of his concept of Desire. I explore the different dimensions of Desire as appetite and generosity, and I argue that the "transition to moral consciousness" that Levinas wants to "justify" is one from complacent happiness to "non-complacent happiness" and can be illuminated by the notion of "passion seeking its downfall.". (shrink)

Our view is that fundamental appetitive and defensive motivation systems evolved to mediate a complex array of adaptive behaviors that support the organism’s drive to survive—defending against threat and securing resources. Activation of these motive systems engages processes that facilitate attention allocation, information intake, sympathetic arousal, and, depending on context, will prompt tactical actions that can be directed either toward or away from the strategic goal, whether defensively or appetitively determined. Research from our laboratory that measures autonomic, central, and somatic (...) reactions when processing emotional scenes is described which indicates that motivationally relevant cues, whether appetitive or defensive, capture attention preferentially, prompt enhanced perceptual processing and information gathering, and occasion metabolic arousal that mobilizes the organism for coping actions. (shrink)

Two axiological elements--humility and passion--I argue, are at the ethical core of Bengal Vaishnavism. These modes of behavior, derived from early theological sources, are dialectically related and form the basis for an ethics of devotion that allows the devotee to accept, while simultaneously transcending social norms and identities. I draw primarily from what is considered the most honored story of the "Bhāgavata Purāṇa", the Rāsalīlā, involving the cowherd maidens who exhibit the highest devotion to God, and from the "Caitanya Caritāmṛta", (...) the biography of the sixteenth century revivalist and saint Caitanya, the tradition's model for devotional life. (shrink)

I ARGUE THAT SPINOZA’S DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONCEPT OF ’CONATION’ IS A CONSISTENT ANALYSIS BASED UPON HIS CLAIM THAT TELEOLOGICAL OR FUNCTIONAL EXPLANATION IS EITHER REDUCIBLE TO CAUSAL EXPLANATION (IN TERMS OF DRIVES) OR IS NOT GENUINELY EXPLANATORY. SEVERAL IMPORTANT CONSEQUENCES OF THIS FOR SPINOZA’S ACCOUNT OF HUMAN APPETITION ARE PURSUED, AND SOME CONSEQUENCES FOR HIS POLITICAL THEORY ARE MENTIONED IN CLOSING.