In the Vita Aristotelis of Diogenes Laertius and elsewhere we come across an epigram of Theocritus of Chios directed against Aristotle. I cite the poem in the form in which it has most recently been published by D. L. Page.

El conocimiento y la utilización del Fedón por Filón es una importante fuente de información acerca de la interpretación que del diálogo se realizaba en la época. Debemos tener en cuenta que Filón nunca hace referencias directas al Fedón sino solo cita algunos breves fragmentos. No obstante, el lenguaje de Platón ha influido sobre Filón, en especial el empleo de adjetivos compuestos. Además, Filón recoge del diálogo una abundante cosecha de imágenes: a) la imagen del cuerpo como una prisión; b) (...) la imagen del cuerpo como un ropaje del alma; c) la esclavitud que el alma debe sobrellevar debido a estar unida al cuerpo; y d) el viaje al extranjero hacia otro lugar, que se corresponde con el tema bíblico de la migración. Se exploran también otros temas del diálogo, como el descenso del alma al cuerpo en términos de met empsicosis o reencarnación. Finalmente, se realiza el análisis de cuatro pasajes: Leg. 1. 105-108, Gig. 13-15, Somn. 1. 138-139 and Her. 267-276. The knowledge and use of the Phaedo by Philo is an important source of information about its interpretation at that time. We must take into account that Philo never makes any direct references to the Phaedo but does quote a few snippets. However, Plato’s use of language has influenced Philo, particularly in the rich use of compound adjectives. Philo draws a copious harvest of images from the dialogue: a) the image of the body as a prison; b) the image of the body as a garment for the soul; c) the bondage that the soul must endure through its association with the body; and d) the journey abroad to another place, which is linked to the biblical theme of migration. Other general themes in the dialogue are also explored, such as the descent of the soul into the body in terms of metempsychosis or reincarnation. Finally, four passages are discussed: Leg. 1. 105-108, Gig. 13-15, Somn. 1. 138-139 and Her. 267-276. (shrink)

If it is true, as I have argued in an earlier essay, that discontinuity is not an unintended side-effect of our ambition to attain goals that are in line with our identity, but the result of our giving in to a sublime “why not?,” then how can we conceive of history as a process? In this essay I will explore the thesis that my notion that the discontinuities of history spring from a dehors texte squares well with an evolutionary view (...) of history. I will do so by giving an account of how Lenin and Trotsky brought off one of the primordial discontinuities of the twentieth century, the Russian Revolution. Starting with Trotsky's remark that Lenin owed his success to his “imagination,” I show that the October 1917 coup d'état was not guided by strategy or driven by ideology, but by a series of “inspired” improvisations in which the protagonists fled forward into the unknown. Trotsky describes Lenin's “intuition of action” as the fruit of his ability to take leave of the system of complexity reduction that is stored in conventions, received wisdom, and other things we take for granted. Trotsky in effect says that Lenin's improvisations were most successful when he was so completely “possessed” by his deeds that he didn't fully know what he was doing—when, that is, he was in a state of dissociation. In Lenin's inspired deeds the “latent powers of the organism” that humans have “inherited from animal ancestors” rose up, Trotsky said, and “smashed through the doors of psychic routine and—together with the highest historico-philosophical generalizations—stood up in the service of the revolution.” Acting out the dehors texte, Lenin brought about one of the metamorphoses in which humanity mutates to new—though not necessarily higher or happier—levels. The essay includes some remarks on what all this might mean for the relation between history and theory in the upcoming years. (shrink)

Pain may appear to undermine the radically intentionalist view that the phenomenal character of any experience is entirely constituted by its representational content. That appearance is illusory. After categorizing versions of pain intentionalism along two dimensions, I argue that an 'objectivist' and 'non-mentalist' version is the most promising, if it can withstand two objections concerning what we say when in pain, and the distinctiveness of pain. I rebut these objections, in a way available to both opponents of and adherents to (...) the view that experiential content is entirely conceptual. (shrink)

On one reading, twentieth century Christian personalists such as Max Scheler, Dietrich von Hildebrand, or Edith Stein merely translate into Christian terms a set of modern concerns that arise apart from and are at odds with the historical Christian tradition. According to this reading, modern philosophy makes a fundamental break with previous thinking when it turns inward to examine the interior, personal dimension of existence. A person who favors this inward turn will see the Christian personalists as vainly attempting to (...) salvage traditional Christian categories while trying to keep up with the times. For example, someone who favors twentieth century existentialism or psychoanalysis may sympathize with a Christian personalist account of the interiority and irreplaceable uniqueness of each person but despise the larger religious framework of grace and salvation. Someone who favors traditional metaphysics, by contrast, may see these personalists as falling prey to modern errors when they should have kept the faith. Such a traditionalist may think, for example, that an emphasis on the personal is an infiltration into Christianity from secular political philosophies of individualism and that this has been thinly covered over with traditional Christian language. -/- Both perspectives, however, ignore the historical roots of personalism much further back in the history of philosophy than Descartes and Kant. Central to this history is the idea that each person uniquely realizes an incommunicable dimension of his existence, irreducible to the category of nature or essence. While we are in nature and while we *are* a nature, our nature as nature remains purely general, describing *what* we are in common with every other member of our species. As particular persons exercising our freedom and spiritual existence, however, each of us concretizes that purely general nature in a unique, personal way. For many centuries, Christians have called the dimension that concretizes nature ὑπόστασις: each ὑπόστασις is a distinct realization of a general nature. When this notion is first introduced into Christian discourse during the second half of the fourth century, the uniqueness of persons as opposed to the uniqueness of individual pebbles or horses does not come fully into focus. Nevertheless, a thick conception of ὑπόστασις develops in order to speak precisely about Trinitarian and Christological theology, and this context gives it a distinctly personalist character, especially when it is translated into Latin as *persona*. In order to speak of God as three ὑποστάσεις or *personae* in one essence and to speak of Christ as one ὑπόστασις or *persona* in two natures, the category of ὑπόστασις must be irreducible to the category of nature. Along this irreducible dimension persons are irreplaceable *someones* in relationship with other someones rather than merely *somethings*, specimens of a kind more or less interchangeable with any other such specimen. (shrink)