Country constitutes the very anchor of life for many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in Australia. It is central to Indigenous identities and history, and is a powerful signifier of overall health and well-being; yet, the significance of country to Indigenous people living in large urban localities such as Sydney, Australia, remains an enigma. Through the production of a series of three murals on a university campus, this project was designed to explore the significance of country for three Darug (...) artists working alongside 90 pre-service teachers enrolled in teacher education. The authors were working with the notion that Aboriginal art comes from country and should stay on country; hence, the painting was directed by Darug artists because we were teaching and learning on Darug country. Our objective, though, was to explore through practice how country teaches in the city, and to produce new stories of coexistence. Narratives developed around terms of engagement and the relationships that developed through project partnerships. (shrink)

This article examines the actions and testimonies of 14 nurses who killed psychiatric patients at the state hospital of Meseritz-Obrawalde in the Nazi 'euthanasia' program. The nurses provided various reasons for their decisions to participate in the killings. An ethical analysis of the testimonies demonstrates that a belief in the relief of suffering, the notion that the patients would 'benefit' from death, their selection by physicians for the 'treatment' of 'euthanasia', and a perceived duty to obey unquestioningly the orders of (...) physicians were the primary ethical reasons that were stated for their behavior. However, 20 years had elapsed between the killings and the trial, thus giving ample opportunity for the defendants to develop comfortable rationales for their actions and for their attorneys to have observed successful defenses of others accused of euthanasia. (shrink)

Susan Wolf; XV*—Meaning and Morality1, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 97, Issue 1, 1 June 1997, Pages 299–316, https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-926.

Woman is not simply an object, however. If we think in terms of the production of culture, she is an art object: she is the ivory carving or mud replica, an icon or doll, but she is not the sculptor. Lest this seem fanciful, we should remember that until very recently women have been barred from art schools as students yet have always been acceptable as models. Both Laura and Beatrice were turned into characters by the poems they inspired. A (...) poet as sensitive as Chaucer to this reification of the female allowed Criseyde to recognize and lament her own dilemma: "Allas, of me, unto the worldless ende,/Shall neyther ben ywritten nor ysonge/No good word; for these bokes wol me shende" . Like the words written about her, she fears she will be "rolled on many a tongue!"6· 6. I am indebted for this view of Criseyde to Marcelle Thiebaux's "Foucault's Fantasia for Feminists: The Woman Reading" .Susan Gubar, associate professor of English at Indiana University, is coauthor of The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination and coeditor of Shakespeare's Sisters: Feminist Essays on Women Poets, both with Sandra M. Gilbert. They are currently working on No Man's Land: Feminism and Modernism, the sequel to their book. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Emergent Spacetime, the Megastructure Problem, and the Metaphysics of the SelfSusan Schneider (bio)The aim of this article is to introduce new thoughts on some pressing topics relating to my book, Artificial You, ranging from the fundamental nature of reality to quantum theory and emergence in large language models (LLM) like GPT-4. Since Artificial You was published, the innovations in the domain of AI chatbots like GPT-4 have been rapid-fire, (...) and at times dizzying. The thoughtful discussion in this symposium offers an important opportunity for cross-cultural engagement on these issues and more. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn from the insights of these authors and editors. [End Page 314]The order of my comments will be as follows: in the context of considering Christian Coseru's intriguing response (section 1), I begin by discussing the nature of the self, which I use as a springboard into larger, vexing issues about the nature of fundamental reality, given work on emergent spacetime (ES) (section 2). I offer a "Prototime Interpretation" of quantum mechanics in which spacetime emerges from a prototemporal arena, and use this idea to explore the nature of the self and mind.Using the assumption of ES, I devise an approach to metaphysically fundamental objects (which I call "quantum objects") based on quantum entanglement and the bundle theory of substance. I illustrate how the self or mind, insofar as it is a substance that supervenes on quantum objects, could be partly or fully determined by the properties of the quantum objects on which it supervenes. Intriguingly, this would mean that the self or mind is not located in any singular point in space at a given time. I also explain how the Prototime Interpretation of quantum mechanics is compatible with change and causation at the fundamental level.In section 3 I turn to Inês Hipólito's interesting article, discussing the import of not underestimating AI autonomy in light of the increasingly sophisticated large-language models (LLMs).1 I raise the "AI Megastructure Problem," a new problem of AI control arising in the context of the incipient AGI systems that are now populating the AI ecosystem. The problem, which arose from a collaboration with Kyle Kilian, considers the possibility of emergent properties from the interaction of the LLMs and other AI's in the AI ecosystem (Schneider and Kilian 2023). Then, turning to Noam Cook's intriguing discussion of Japanese philosophy, I consider the pressing issue of testing for machine consciousness, devising a modified version of my AI consciousness test (ACT), originally developed with astrophysicist Edwin Turner. I add an "interpretability component" to the ACT to deal with the case of LLMs (section 4).I. Patternism and the Biological Process ViewChristian Coseru's intriguing piece focuses on the chapters on personal identity in Artificial You, proposing that when it comes to the nature of the self, one should adopt "a biologically informed process-ontology perspective on personal identity," which "means recognizing that organic identity is different in kind: it is an identity of form rather than of matter."His position is akin to the patternist views that I argue against in Artificial You in the sense that it embraces the idea that form, rather than the particular matter that comprises one's brain and body, is key to one's survival over time. But there are important differences as well. For transhumanists tend to believe that the self can survive radical changes in one's substrate, transitioning from thinking with a biological brain to computing with a network of microchips, for instance. Coseru departs from this, writing: [End Page 315]As organisms, persons endure by undergoing constant change on a fundamentally cellular level, including the change in the neural pathways that realize the cognitive processes of thinking and expressing these very thoughts right now.Furthermore:[I]f persons are processes rather than things, then they cannot be cognitively enhanced by augmenting, replacing or transferring their functioning parts (e.g., brain cells).I will call this position the "Biological Process View" (BPV). I have several questions about it. First, how does this position solve one of the key problems I raised for... (shrink)

Susan Mendus; Toleration and Recognition: education in a multicultural society, Journal of Philosophy of Education, Volume 29, Issue 2, 30 May 2006, Pages 191–2.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 123.4 (2002) 633-637 [Access article in PDF] Susan E. Alcock, John F. Cherry, and Jas; Elsner, eds. Pausanias: Travel and Memory in Roman Greece. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. xii + 379 pp. Cloth, $65. As he moves from monument to monument and polis to polis, Pausanias gives the impression that the sun is always shining and the weather fresh and sweet. Beyond the (...) next turn in the road, there might be a grove or spring and maybe a precinct of Demeter, a statue of Artemis, or a little temple of Aphrodite. If they were "worth seeing," we can rely on Pausanias to let us know. Delivering a mixed narrative that weaves together history, myth, and his own style of ekphrasis, his even-toned voiceover makes him a comfortable traveling companion. Or does it? We know that the oaks on Mt. Parnon make the forest dark (they are still there today), but for Pausanias, the land is called Skotitas, "Dark," not for the shadows of the oaks, but for Zeus Skotitas who had his sanctuary nearby. As Ada Cohen points out in her essay, Pausanias does not describe the landscape itself but only the places where it intersects with divinity. As the collaborators here make clear, similar principles of selection operate on other levels. Pausanias may enable us to visualize a lost world, but the view is sanitized. Writing at the peak of Roman wealth, power, and privilege, he gives us old Greece with hardly a trace of Rome. He presents cities without houses, landscapes without agriculture, sanctuaries without worshippers, and the past without the present. Like the cardboard and cellophane 3-D glasses worn by cinema audiences in the 1950s, his text brings into temporary and unstable focus a very specialized scene, but the view is that of a virtual museum, a theme park created for our viewing enjoyment.How did he do it and what are the consequences? I admit that when it comes to Pausanias, I am one of those "seekers after lost religions" whom Elsner classifies with archaeologists surveying the text of Pausanias for possible excavation sites. We will all be a little more careful after reading this book. Yet, where else [End Page 633] could we find the information Pausanias gives? Habicht rehabilitated Pausanias in the 1980s by demonstrating how well his text stands up when compared with the surviving external record. Pausanias did not have a spreadsheet to keep straight the sixty-nine altars at Olympia, but he must at least have taken notes.The arrangement of the articles presented here replicates a familiar academic setting. Structured like a weekend conference, the book divides into three sessions ("The Traveler and the Text," "Studies and Comparisons," and "Nachleben"), with four papers and two comments in each session. Very generally, the topics are: landscape as language (J. Elsner); mental baggage and method (E. Bowie); informants and information (C. P. Jones); pilgrimage and the inspiration of vision (I. Rutherford); selection and cultural choice (M. Torelli); memory and memorization (D. Konstan); identity, monumentality and the recall of mo(nu)ments sublime (J. Porter); representation of space and movement (A. Cohen); archaic text and image on the chest of Kypselos (A. M. Snodgrass); filling the empty map of Messenia (S. E. Alcock); Greek narratives in Roman images (B. Bergmann); other Spartas (P. Cartledge); shaping the genre of travel writing (S. B. Sutton); Leake's Pausanias and Greek topography (J. M. Wagstaff); rearranging Pausanias or Farnell on Greek ritual (J. Henderson); Harrison and Verrall present Pausanias for the hoipolloi (M. Beard); Sparta and the French Enlightenment (S. Bann); and remembering and reforming the past (J. Cherry).There isn't space enough here to do justice to every argument, but I will take a sentence to praise the editors for inspiring the synergy of so many specialties. Archaeologists talk about texts; literary scholars talk about places and objects; and art historians discuss the relation between the two. The section entitled Nachleben surveys the nineteenth-century efflorescence of Pausanias and from four very different vantage points evaluates his influence on... (shrink)

Susan Mendus; VII*—Liberty and Autonomy, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 87, Issue 1, 1 June 1987, Pages 107–120, https://doi.org/10.1093/aristo.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 122.1 (2001) 107-129 [Access article in PDF] Imperitia: The Responsibility Of Skilled Workers In Classical Roman Law Susan D. Martin BY THE EARLY SECOND CENTURY A.D., the Roman jurists were invoking the term imperitia, lack of skill or experience, as a basis for the legal responsibility of skilled individuals who damaged another's property in the course of their work. The term is invoked in (...) a broad range of situations and doubtless was applicable in innumerable others of similar type. For example, you entrust a gem to a jeweler to be set. It breaks in the process. A doctor, hired to perform surgery, further harms the patient. You give a cup to an artisan to be carved. The cup shatters. 1 All of these examples, taken from the Digest, presuppose a similar situation: A person is employed to do a job and is entrusted with the material necessary for the completion of the work, usually a moveable object, a slave, or an animal. In the course of the work, this material, whether inanimate or animate, sustains damage. Who should be responsible and on what grounds?A series of texts preserved in the Digest illustrates how, over the course of the classical period of Roman jurisprudence, the jurists articulated and interpreted imperitia as a key concept for use in legal disputes dealing with a broad range of individuals employed in the workforce of the empire. As increased scholarly attention is devoted to the study of the Roman working population from a legal perspective, an examination of imperitia will shed light on one of the principal substantive tools developed to regulate artisans and skilled workers of all kinds. 2 The surviving Digest texts permit the reconstruction of key elements of the [End Page 107] jurists' conception of the employment relationship as it was encompassed in the contract of locatio conductio operis, the contract of lease and hire of a job. 3 The question of the worker's responsibility for skilled work is a central element of the law with regard to this contract. I will argue that the jurists' development of imperitia as a legal doctrine was the product of a complex relationship between law and its social and economic context. 4 This process of legal development reveals a great deal about the methods the jurists employed in dealing with certain segments of the Roman workforce. It emerges with relative clarity from the texts that the jurists presume that these contracts are designed for the hire of workers who are capable of assuming a considerable degree of risk for the skilled execution of their work as an implied feature of the contract. But the jurists never state clearly what standard should be used to evaluate the worker's performance. Analysis of the evidence shows that the jurists tend to favor a method of evaluation that focuses on the quality of the performance based upon external, objective criteria, rather than the individualized fault of the worker. 5 From this reconstruction of how the law functioned, one can speculate about what the advantages of this regime were from the jurists' point of view and how adequately or inadequately jurists' law functioned with regard to the diversity of workers known to have existed in the workforce of the empire. The results of this investigation have implications for our understanding of the activities of skilled and craft workers, especially in the city of Rome. The inhabitants of cities in the empire became increasingly accustomed to the availability of a wide variety of goods and services and in all likelihood purchased them or contracted for them from individuals with whom they had no other connections, that is, the workers themselves or merchants or traders. 6 The legal regime described here presupposes the existence of a multiplicity of such workers whose concerns penetrated [End Page 108] the legal system, who came to the attention of the Roman jurists, and who were, apparently, able to maneuver to some extent within the legal system. 7The concept of imperitia originated as the jurists developed... (shrink)

Susan Mendus; VII*—Liberty and Autonomy, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 87, Issue 1, 1 June 1987, Pages 107–120, https://doi.org/10.1093/aristo.

Susan Haack; IX*—Theories of Knowledge: An Analytic Framework, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 83, Issue 1, 1 June 1983, Pages 143–158, https://.

Volume 19, Issue 11, November 2019, Page 29-31.

Susan Haack; Surprising Noises: Rorty and Hesse on Metaphor*, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 88, Issue 1, 1 June 1988, Pages 293–302, https://d.

_The Incident at Antioch_ is a key play marking Alain Badiou's transition from classical Marxism to a "politics of subtraction" far removed from party and state. Written with striking eloquence and extraordinary poetic richness, and shifting from highly serious emotional and intellectual drama to surreal comic interlude, the work features statesmen, workers, and revolutionaries struggling to reconcile the nature and practice of politics. This bilingual edition presents _L'Incident d'Antioche_ in its original French and, on facing pages, an expertly executed English (...) translation. Badiou adds a special preface, and an introduction by the scholar Kenneth Reinhard connects the play to Paul Claudel's _The City_, Saint Paul and the early history of the Church, and the innovative mathematical thinking of Paul Cohen. The translation includes Susan Spitzer's extensive notes clarifying allusions and quotations and hinting at Badiou's intentions. An interview with Badiou encompasses the play's settings, themes, and events, as well as his ongoing literary and conceptual experimentation on stage and off. (shrink)

Susan James; XIII*—Certain and Less Certain Knowledge, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 87, Issue 1, 1 June 1987, Pages 227–242, https://doi.org/.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 20 (2000) 263-265 [Access article in PDF] Book Review The Silent Dialogue: Zen Letters to a Trappist Monk Zen Spirit, Christian Spirit: The Place of Zen in Christian Life The Silent Dialogue: Zen Letters to a Trappist Monk. By David G. Hackett. New York: Continuum, 1996. 157 pp. Zen Spirit, Christian Spirit: The Place of Zen in Christian Life. By Robert E. Kennedy. New York: Continuum, 1997. (...) 144 pp. Two very different books recently published by Continuum seem to complement each other in unexpected ways. Father Kennedy, Catholic Zen Teacher, Jesuit Priest, openly shares with us his own journey into unknowing and self-emptying. As he notes in his preface, "what I looked for in Zen was not a new faith, but a new way of being Catholic that grew out of my own lived experience..." (p. 13). David Hackett, now an associate professor of religion, freely shares his youthful search for genuine spiritual experience. His book is drawn from correspondence from the 1970s with Father Thomas Keating and the monks of the St. Joseph's Abbey during his two-year stay in Japan. Hackett says in his Prologue, "I became a Catholic through Zen meditation..." (p. 17). In both cases, rather than threaten or diminish their Christian faith, Zen practice served as a wonderful "can-opener," prying off lids of rigid ideas and concepts, allowing the depth of the spirit to be more deeply experienced.Part I of Zen Spirit, Christian Spirit, addressed primarily to the Christian reader, offers an excellent introduction into Buddhism, Zen, and the essential elements of practice. In this section Kennedy has reflected the questions Christians have asked during the years he taught at the Zen Community of New York. His teacher there, Bernard Tetsugen Glassman Roshi, clarifies in the foreword Father Kennedy's position as a lay Zen Teacher who remains a Catholic priest. Kennedy weaves a consistent thread of Christian contemplative teachings side by side with the Zen teachings, making very visible the fact that Zen reminds us, as do Eckhart, Merton, and many other contemplatives, that the highest point of our Christian mysticism is reached not in the experience that I know God or that I love God--not in any I-Thou experience--but in the experience that God lives in us (p. 36).The book has been structured according to the four stages of human growth: knowledge, love, purification, and union. These stages have been likened to the stages of alchemy: lead, quicksilver, sulphur, and gold--these four elements provide Kennedy with his titles for the four parts of his book. This very structure makes clear that the goal of both Christian mysticism and Zen practice is transformation of being. With a firm foundation of knowledge and teachings from both traditions, then it is time to actually enter the fire of practice itself. I am reminded of the stages of practice outlined in the ancient Chinese Zen ox-herding pictures. The herdsman sets out with some knowledge, longing for his True Nature. He sees traces--footprints in the sand--and a deep yearning, the quicksilver of desire and inspiration, begins to ache in his heart. As he begins to see and experience his own True Nature, he must pass through the fire of struggle, surrender, deep letting go, until finally both herdsman [End Page 263] and ox disappear, self-emptying is complete in Union. There are no shortcuts. Jesus and Buddha both have invited us to practice radical poverty. Kennedy states, "The poverty of not clinging, not projecting, not finding shelter, and not seeking parallel lives, can lead us to the deepest intimacy of all" (p. 114).Kennedy received his early formative Zen training under Koun Yamada Roshi, a beloved and deeply appreciated teacher, in Kamakura. His Roshi offered a style of practice which utilized the koan (rationally unsolvable question or paradox) to provoke the student into a direct experience rather than an explanation or idea about it. Kennedy Sensei has shared his insight into many... (shrink)

Volume 20, Issue 7, July 2020, Page 6-8.

The American Journal of Bioethics, Volume 11, Issue 8, Page 27-29, August 2011.

The Animal Ethics Reader is an acclaimed anthology containing both classic and contemporary readings, making it ideal for anyone coming to the subject for the first time. It provides a thorough introduction to the central topics, controversies and ethical dilemmas surrounding the treatment of animals, covering a wide range of contemporary issues, such as animal activism, genetic engineering, and environmental ethics. The extracts are arranged thematically under the following clear headings: Theories of Animal Ethics Nonhuman Animal Experiences Primates and Cetaceans (...) Animals for Food Animal Experimentation Animals and Biotechnology Ethics and Wildlife Zoos and Aquariums Animal Companions Animal Law and Animal Activism Readings from leading experts in the field including Peter Singer, Bernard E. Rollin and Jane Goodall are featured, as well as selections from Tom Regan, Jane Goodall, Donald Griffin, Temple Grandin, Ben A. Minteer, Christine Korsgaard and Mark Rowlands. Classic extracts are well balanced with contemporary selections, helping to present the latest developments in the field. This revised and updated _Third Edition_ includes 31 new readings on a range of subjects, including animal rights, captive chimpanzees, industrial farm animal production, genetic engineering, keeping cetaceans in captivity, animal cruelty, and animal activism. The _Third Edition _also is printed with a slightly larger page format and in an easier-to-read typeface. Featuring contextualizing introductions by the editors, study questions and further reading suggestions as the end of each chapter, this will be essential reading for any student taking a course in the subject. With a new foreword by Bernard E. Rollin. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Meaning of Meat and the Structure of the Odyssey by Egbert J. BakkerSusan A. CurryEgbert J. Bakker. The Meaning of Meat and the Structure of the Odyssey. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013. xiv + 191 pp. Cloth, $90.Meat-eating in the Odyssey is a risky business. Inextricably intertwined with song itself in the context of the aristocratic feast, meat-eating in excess becomes a weapon of the Suitors in (...) Ithaca as part of a three-year effort “literally to eat Odysseus’ house to ruin” (xi). In the “Otherworld” through which Odysseus and his Companions venture, meat and meat-eating are further problematized: there is too much or not enough of it; what they come across is forbidden; one may become meat oneself, filling the belly of another.This book traces the theme of meat in the Odyssey through a series of case studies that reveal a web of associations between Odysseus’ account of his adventures in the Otherworld and the poet’s account of events in Ithaca. Using a variety of approaches (narratological, folkloric, anthropological, philological), Bakker investigates the numerous “paradigmatic relationships” existing between the “matrix narrative” of the Odyssey, the aoide\, and the epos, the “embedded utterance” or part of the poem narrated by Odysseus himself (3). The theme of meat also allows Bakker to bring the related topics of dining and hospitality, sacrifice and hunting to bear on his exploration of the interconnections, thematic and linguistic, of the aoide\ and the epos. Although this book is weakest where Bakker roams farthest from meat, it nevertheless contains some choice cuts. In particular, he provides fascinating analyses of the Cyclops and Circe episodes and of hunting in the Otherworld (chaps. 4 and 5).We must begin with the “Epilogue: On ‘Interformularity,’” because, for passionate advocates of a particular school of thought on the composition of Homeric poetry, understanding Bakker’s approach to repetitions and allusions within the Odyssey is a prerequisite for accepting the claims he makes throughout the preceding chapters. Bakker favors an approach to the Homeric poems that involves the integration of intertextuality and orality, which he terms “interformularity.” Rather than randomly repeated traditional formulas, Bakker suggests that the repetitions and allusions within the Homeric poems are the result of “a poet’s judgment as to the (degree of) similarity between two contexts” (159). In other words, Bakker argues for meaningful repetition. Situations and similarity of situations determine the appropriate utterance; when similar situations evoke the same utterance or the same utterance gives rise to a similar situation, the language of the utterance becomes formulaic. [End Page 485]Because each of Bakker’s chapters is, for the most part, a separate case study, each will find its own audience beyond Homeric scholars generally. The first chapter, “Epos and Aoide\,” and the second, “Nostos as Quest,” will appeal to fans of intertextuality and folklore motifs, respectively. In the first chapter, Bakker defines and describes, as noted above, the epos and aoide\ of the Odyssey and makes two crucial points regarding the relationship between these on which much of his overall argument depends: first, epic is itself a ravening genre insatiable in its swallowing up of so-called “minor” genres; and, thus, second, the epos does not occupy a secondary position vis-à-vis the aoide\, but “competes with its ‘container,’ shaping the narrative tension within the Odyssey” (3).The second chapter is concerned more with structure than with meat. Bakker, following Anna Bonifazi (“Inquiring into Nostos and its Cognates,” AJP 130.4 [2009]:481–510), extends the definition of nostos to include the idea of survival as well as homecoming. He also discusses the role of quest as “an essential and versatile narrative building-block” (20) and adjusts Vladimir Propp’s quest sequence to accommodate the narrative of Odysseus’ wanderings. Most importantly, this chapter lays the groundwork for the two most significant contributions of Bakker’s study: first, the “Wanderings provide essential exemplars for the crimes committed in Odysseus’ house in his absence”; and second, meat is “a catalyst of crime and transgression” throughout the Odyssey (35).Although more focused on meat, meat-eating, dining, and cattle culture in Homeric society, “Meat in... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Rhetoric 35.2 (2002) 120-137 [Access article in PDF] Discursive Mobility and Double Consciousness in S. Weir Mitchell and W.E.B. Du Bois 1 Susan Wells Here are two stories about double consciousness: they will become, eventually, stories about the public sphere: W. E. B. Du Bois formulating the theory of double consciousness, and S. Weir Mitchell presenting Mary Reynolds's case history, an instance of a mental disorder (...) known in the nineteenth century as double consciousness. I will begin with Du Bois's story, by far the most familiar to us: few texts are more central to contemporary rhetoric or cultural studies than the discussion of double consciousness in the opening pages of The Souls of Black Folk. 2 In the theory of double consciousness, Du Bois concentrated his contradictory experiences of scholarship, activism, social isolation, and active cosmopolitanism. Double consciousness was a methodological constraint that enabled Du Bois to build into the structure of The Souls of Black Folk a recognition that the complexity of African American life requires more than one perspective. And double consciousness was also a technique of writing, shaping the ironic and urgent voice of the book, by turns indignant and tender, eloquent and colloquial, a form of double address to both African American and Caucasian readers that allowed Du Bois to be two places at once. Double consciousness therefore controlled both the development and the presentation of The Souls of Black Folk, from the arc of its argument to its formal elements, includingDu Bois's famous use of chapter epigraphs to link canonic poetry with the melodies of the sorrow songs. Like the most relentlessly formal high modernist poem, the book continually enacts in its form not only its informing idea, but the circumstances of its composition and the constraints that shape its reading.The book's initial essay, "Of Our Spiritual Strivings," offers an analysis of double consciousness as it is shaped by three central categories of modernity: temporality, embodiment, and expertise. Double consciousness is located in time, in history; it is placed in a story of the epochal succession [End Page 120] of races, and in the specific history of slavery. Double consciousness emerges as strategically shaping African American responses to the problems of disenfranchisement, poverty, and the denial of civil rights after the suppression of Reconstruction. The historical sections of The Souls of Black Folk, therefore, do not simply rectify the facts, setting the record straight on Reconstruction or Afrocentric scholar and theorist Alexander Crumell. These local arguments all motivate an understanding of consciousness as temporally constituted, so that the work of previous generations can be effective only when it is appropriated in the present. Such appropriation is supported and mediated by the form of the book: Du Bois ends with an invocation to "God the Reader," who alone can ensure that "these crooked marks on a fragile leaf be not indeed THE END" (19).Double consciousness is also connected with embodiment, specifically the embodiment of African Americans, externalized and displaced in two images: blood, which I will discuss later in the essay, and the veil or caul that grants second sight. Like skin color, the caul is an inconsequential physical object invested with enormous symbolic power (8); it is a mark of origins that foretells the future. The "second sight" offered to the Negro is a vision of "two warring ideals," a vision that can barely be supported by "one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder"(9). At moments in The Souls of Black Folk, the veil is generalized, and becomes a physical barrier between the white world and the world of African American culture; the work of separating these worlds, of rendering them invisible to one another, is staged on the bodies of African Americans. The veil is usually seen as a separation between the races, something that has happened ("Feeling deeply and keenly the tendencies and opportunities of the age in which they live, their souls are bitter at the fate which drops the Veil... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Kennedy Institute of Ethics Journal 12.3 (2002) 305-323 [Access article in PDF] Scope Note 41 Bioethics and Cloning, Part I Susan Cartier Poland and Laura Jane Bishop This is Part One of a two part Scope Note on Bioethics and Cloning. Part Two will be published in the December 2002 issue of the Kennedy Institute of Ethics Journal and as a separate reprint. Contents For Parts 1 And (...) 2 Part 1Part 2I.History of the ScienceI.Ethical PerspectivesII.Historical CommentaryII.Religious PerspectivesIII.Animal WelfareIII.Fiction and FilmIV.Laws and Legal Literature"Clone" is a collective noun (I, Stewart 1997, p. 771). A collective noun names a group and is composed of individual members, such as "herd" or "flock." Derived from the Greek kl¯on for twig or slip, "clone" was first used in biology to describe the aggregate of asexually produced progeny of an individual, either naturally occurring or man-made; the definition later expanded to mean a group of genetically identical members who originate from a single ancestor. Thus, a clone is a group that results from the process of asexual reproduction.In nature, cloning occurs either by parthenogenesis (reproduction without fertilization) or by fission (embryo splitting). In a pioneering experiment in 1952, Robert Briggs and Thomas J. King (I, 1952), cancer researchers at the Institute for Cancer Research (today part of the Fox Chase Cancer Center) in Philadelphia, demonstrated on frogs another method of cloning by transplanting nuclei into enucleated cells, a technique called "nuclear transplantation," which John B. Gurdon and colleagues (I, 1958, 1975) used to create clones of frogs.Then, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, two back-to-back frauds in cloning occurred. First, the cloning of a human described by American science journalist David Rorvik in the 1978 book In His Image was called a hoax by a court in [End Page 305] 1982. Second, the cloning of three mice, announced by German wunderkind Karl Illmensee to scientific circles in 1979 (and to the public in 1981), could not be proven to be true, according to convincing evidence by McGrath and Solter (I) published in 1984.With their pronouncement that mammalian cloning was impossible, McGrath and Solter essentially stopped cloning research and funding for such biological research. So by the mid-1980s, instead of further investigating cloning, developmental biologists studied embryology related to in vitro fertilization, while molecular biologists studied recombinant DNA under the newly relaxed NIH guidelines. These two strands of scientific investigation came together in the work of Ian Wilmut, who created in vitro embryos using nuclear transplantation to reproduce genetically engineered cattle. Wilmut was seeking a way to increase the successful birth rate when, in the 1990s, he produced identical twin sheep, Megan and Morag, cloned from an embryonic cell, followed by another sheep, Dolly, cloned from an adult cell. The birth of a mammal from an embryo whose genetic material came from an adult cell firmly re-established the possibility of cloning from adults. Prior to Dolly's birth, scientists believed that adult cells lost the ability to dedifferentiate—i.e., to become unspecialized—and so could not direct the development of an embryo through to birth.The 1997 announcement of Dolly's birth initiated the present widespread discussion of cloning. Because of its potentially vast applications across human health, medicine, agriculture, and business/economics, cloning raises a host of issues including those concerning: genetics and genetic engineering, patenting, animal rights and/or animal welfare (especially for transgenic, research, or cloned animals), organ transplantation, reproduction, eugenics, pharmacology (drug production using transgenic animals), research practices, informed consent, stem cell research, women's rights, children's rights, parental rights and responsibilities, and theology and philosophy. It fosters questions about the meaning and purpose of life, the limits of human powers to intervene in research and therapy, and what it means to be human or animal. In addition, environmentalists and organic farmers raise concerns about the effect of novel animals and plants on the environment, while nutritionists and the lay public wonder... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Kennedy Institute of Ethics Journal 15.2 (2005) 211-218 [Access article in PDF] Bioethics, Biolaw, and Western Legal Heritage Susan Cartier Poland Bioethics and biolaw are two philosophical approaches that address social tension and conflict caused by emerging bioscientific and biomedical research and application. Both reflect their respective, yet different, heritages in Western law. Bioethics can be defined as "the research and practice, generally interdisciplinary in nature, which aims (...) to clarify or resolve ethical questions raised by the advances and application of biomedical and biological sciences" (II, Miller 2000, p. 246). Biolaw, on the other hand, is a legal philosophical concept that can be defined as "the taking of agreed upon principles and practices of bioethics into law with the sanctions that law engenders" (p. 246). Some see biolaw as hierarchical, either evolving from or devolving into bioethics (p. 245), while others think of bioethics and biolaw as a continuum or gradation (p. 246). Whichever view one takes, bioethics and biolaw are, at the least, intertwined (II, Loureiro 2000, p. 71).Although bioethics came out of the U.S. in the 1970s, the field is now considered Anglo-American (II, Kemp 2000a, p. 67). Biolaw emerged in the 1990s from the French biodroit and has become associated with continental Europe (p. 68). These distinctions, however, are based on geopolitical entities. Another way to distinguish bioethics from biolaw is to look at their legal heritage and understand the differences between the common law and the civil law.Bioethics and biolaw share a Western legal heritage, specifically roots in Roman law. When the Roman empire in the West fell to Germanic tribes in 476 A.D., the Romans had developed a sophisticated system of law that included flexible standards and abstract, rather than concrete, modes of thought. In 528, Justinian, emperor of the surviving Roman empire in the East at Constantinople, ordered a compilation and consolidation of Roman law. Despite the rise of seventh century Islam, the split of the Christian church into eastern and western branches in 1054, and the Norman conquest of England in 1066, Roman law survived through the courts of canon law and was revived later in the twelfth century at the University of Bologna in Italy. By 1500, what would later become France and Germany had [End Page 211] "received" or recognized Roman law, albeit in varying degrees. Not a single event, the Reception, or "direct acceptance of Roman law as a principal source of law," is the definitive turning point in Western legal history that eventually produced the common law and civil law strands (I, Von Mehren 1957, p. 10).England, however, did not participate in the Reception, although its influence was felt at Oxford University, where Vacarious taught its precepts in 1151, and in the courts of canon law (I, Von Mehren 1957, p. 10). William the Conqueror already essentially had established the common law tradition when he merged Anglo-Saxon law with Norman law and created a centralized system of justice administration for the single fiefdom known as England.Aside from historical development, the common law and the civil law differ from other legal families in terms of their modes of thought, institutions, sources, and ideology (I, Zweigert and Kotz 1977, p. 62). In the common law, Roman legal concepts were shaped by Christian ethics through the canon law courts. In the civil law, Roman law became the basis for a legal science centered in the universities and interpreted by various schools, such as the commentators, the glossators, and the humanists. The civil law uses a central text as the starting point for legal reasoning and analysis. The common law develops over time through case law, that is, by judges applying principles from preceding cases to resolve the issue at hand. One writer describes the common law as "anything that is not prohibited is permitted" and the civil law as "anything that is not permitted is prohibited" (I, Karambelas 2005, p. 28).The common law and the civil law are only two of the three traditions in Western law. The third is socialist law. All three are... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Kennedy Institute of Ethics Journal 10.3 (2000) 265-281 [Access article in PDF] Scope Note 39 Genes, Patents, and Bioethics-Will History Repeat Itself? Susan Cartier Poland Gene patenting--the very notion sounds absurd! How can anyone claim to have invented the genes with which one is born? To make matters worse, genetic makeup precedes birth, meaning the existence of the invention predates the existence of the inventor. So, do we (...) really own our genes, or do they belong to our parents, or our governments, or a Supreme Being? Ownership is only one bioethical issue involved in gene patenting. But before looking at the issues, some essential and basic terms must be understood, namely genes and patents. Genes In his book On the Origin of Species, published in 1859, the biologist Charles Darwin proposed a theory called "natural selection," whereby living things changed over time or evolved through generations due to competition and variation. By experimenting with the garden pea in the 1860s, Gregor Mendel, a monk and accomplished horticulturalist, provided the mechanism of inheritance supporting the natural selection theory of his contemporary Darwin. That mechanism is the gene, or, as Mendel described it, a discrete "factor." The gene has also been defined as "the fundamental unit of heredity" (United States 1987, p. 157). Each individual has two copies of a gene, one from each parent, but that individual passes down to offspring only one of the two copies. Because of Mendel, the gene has become a scientific concept and the basis of a new scientific field: genetics.David C. Page (2000) of the Whitehead Institute for Biomedical Research at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology explained today's terms for genetics structures using an analogy taken from the home. In his view, the cell is a kitchen, the genome is a shelf in the kitchen, the chromosome is a cookbook on the shelf, the gene is a recipe in the cookbook, and a base-pair (either adenine with thymine or guanine with cytosine) is a single letter in the recipe. A protein, the [End Page 265] working molecule blueprinted by a gene, is a dish ready to eat, and an ingredient in the dish is an amino acid, which is a building block of the protein as specified by a string of base-pairs.Colin Tudge (1993), a British science journalist, would disagree with Page's description of the gene as a recipe. A recipe is like a blueprint: both are directions that precede the work. But a gene is not passive according to Tudge; it actively administers the cell's work, and it also responds to cellular events (Aldridge 1996).The current focus of scientific research and funding is on the gene and the completion of the sequencing of all the genes that comprise the human genome, portrayed in the press as a race between the U.S. government's Human Genome Project and the private corporation Celera Genomics. The real action, however, is at the protein level. The gene only holds the information to produce a protein; it is the three-dimensional shaped protein that does the work. In order to produce energy, eliminate waste, and perform other functions specific to a cell or tissue, proteins must bind, thus creating "biological pathways." Proteins bind (or not) and detach as a function of their shapes, which are determined by their precise chemical composition as spelled out in their genetic code. IBM will spend the next five years making one computer, Blue Gene, that will then take an entire year to come up with the chemical map for only one protein (Gillis 2000). It is estimated that there are about 40,000 proteins in the human body.Despite these overwhelming numbers, modern biology has been able to achieve significant results within the Human Genome Project's 15-year time frame, from 1990 to 2005. The genetic map was completed in 1993; the physical map was completed in 1995; and the genetic sequence is expected to be completed in 2002, with 97 to 99 percent completed as of 26 June 2000. This... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Rhetoric 33.3 (2000) 193-220 [Access article in PDF] Unveiling Esther as a Pragmatic Radical Rhetoric Susan Zaeske Ahasuerus, king of Persia, hosted in the courtyard of his pavilion a grand feast bountiful in royal wine. Likewise, Queen Vashti gave a feast for the women in the king's palace. On the last day of the celebration, an inebriated Ahasuerus commanded Vashti to appear wearing her crown (only (...) her crown, according to some interpretations 1 ) to show the people her beauty. She refused. Burning with anger, Ahasuerus consulted his advisors with regard to how he should respond to the affront. They concluded that not just the king, but all husbands of the kingdom had been wronged. They advised the king to depose Vashti and issue a law commanding all wives to obey their husbands. Following this advice, Ahasuerus uncrowned Vashti and selected as his new queen the beautiful Esther, who hid the fact that she was a Jew.Esther had been raised in the provinces by her cousin, Mordecai, 2 who came with her to the king's city. One day when Mordecai encountered the king's prime minister, Haman, he refused to obey the law commanding all to bow before the king's official because Haman was an infamous enemy of the Jews. Haman was so angered by Mordecai's insolence that he decided to seek revenge by destroying not just Mordecai, but all the Jews in the kingdom. After casting lots to determine the best time to approach the king, Haman obtained Ahasuerus's permission to annihilate the Jews.When he learned of the imminent execution, Mordecai put on sackcloth and ashes and made his way through the streets of Susa, wailing. Through a messenger, Mordecai bid Esther to intercede with the king on behalf of her people. She protested that doing so would be a dangerous act because approaching the king without summons was an offense punishable by death. Reminded by Mordecai that inaction on her part meant death for her people, and possibly herself, Esther resolved to beseech the king. She commanded Mordecai to gather all the Jews in the city to fast and pray for her for three days. Then, Esther pledged, "I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish!" (Esther 4:16). [End Page 193]On the third day, Esther stood waiting in the inner courtyard of the palace, in front of the king's quarters, where he was sitting on his throne. When Ahasuerus noticed the queen, she won his favor and he extended his gold scepter. The king then said to her, "What do you want Queen Esther? What is your petition? Even if it be half of my kingdom, you may have it"(Esther 5:3). Esther did not immediately state her request, but invited the king and Haman to a banquet she would prepare for them. At the banquet, the king again invited her request. Again, she deferred, instead asking both men to another banquet.During the night between banquets, the king suffered a bout of insomnia and ordered the book of records brought to him. Ahasuerus read that Mordecai the Jew had saved his life by informing the king's guards of an assassination plot. The next day, the king asked Haman how best to honor a man for his loyalty. Thinking that Ahasuerus wished to honor him, Haman suggested that such a man should be paraded through the streets on a fine horse. To Haman's horror, he was ordered to lead a celebratory parade for his worst enemy, Mordecai.Haman was so distraught that he was almost late for the second banquet in the queen's chambers. Once all were assembled, the king repeated his offer to receive Esther's petition. She answered, "If I have obtained your favor, Your Majesty and if it please the king, let my life be granted to me at my request. And my people's at my petition! For we've been sold, I and my people, for destruction! For slaughter and annihilation... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Hypatia 16.3 (2001) 172-176 [Access article in PDF] Book Review Diagnosis: Difference: The Moral Authority of Medicine Diagnosis: Difference: The Moral Authority of Medicine. By Abby L. Wilkerson. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1998. In this compact volume, Abby Wilkerson makes several important contributions to the burgeoning literature of feminist (bio)ethics by providing substantive arguments in support of some of the key intuitive beliefs that are central to much feminist (...) bioethics thinking. Most centrally, she carefully fleshes out a feminist case for re-framing traditional bioethics approaches to the relation between health and justice. Particularly valuable is her richly detailed argument establishing the importance of bringing to the realm of health and health care Iris Marion Young's (1990) important insight that justice involves far more than questions of distribution.At the same time, Wilkerson demonstrates another major feminist tenet: that ethics and epistemology are intimately related. This connection is developed [End Page 172] through a second major theme in which she systematically tracks medicine's tendency to extend its accepted epistemic authority over physical ailments into a general authority over many other aspects of life. She documents examples of medicine's success in leveraging its scientific knowledge about certain aspects of the body into a broader ideological vision through which it claims epistemic authority in the personal and moral realm. By making explicit the gaps between medical knowledge and moral knowledge, she is able to challenge the moral authority and social power that are now granted to medical experts.While these arguments are important, they are not the whole story of the book, for its message is as much about process in bioethics as it is about conclusions. Wilkerson insists that the specific perspective of the theorist affects her/his reasoning. She demonstrates the importance of this fact by using her own distinct position as a bisexual woman to make visible the implicit acceptance and perpetuation of several ideological norms by those in dominant positions in both medicine and bioethics. The central method of the book is what she calls "material-semiotic." It involves the assumption that all human experience is mediated by culture, and the body (specifically the medicalized body) must be recognized as a political site subject to a variety of social values. We must, therefore, attend to the cultural meanings of health and illness and explore the ways that society labels and responds to these conditions. This requires investigation of the specific bodily (material) effects of these meanings in both individual and social experience.The book begins with the epistemological frame of the argument in which Wilkerson claims that medicine is deeply infected by the values and biases of the dominant culture, including its tendencies towards sexist, racist, classist, homophobic, and ablist attitudes. She explores ways in which medical theory and practice stigmatize bodily experiences common to women (in gynecology, obstetrics, and the treatment of victims of sexual or domestic violence). Medicalizing so many aspects of women's experience has the effect of obscuring women's subjective experiences and replacing them with medicine's normative perspectives of appropriate psychological norms. Moreover, the norm of femaleness promoted is a heterosexual, middle class, white variety such that other forms of social difference (e.g., non-white, non-heterosexual) must then also be medicalized and stigmatized; that is, the medical model requires explanations of difference that render pathological most variations on the privileged norm. Hence, alternative sexualities, like differences in class, abilities, race, and gender are interpreted through a medical lens that is thoroughly value-laden. In such ways, the epistemological authority granted to medicine is conflated into an unjustified form of moral authority. Although similar biases are common to every powerful social institution in the United States, they are especially pernicious within medicine because of the enormous influence it exerts in shaping knowledge about the nature of difference between social [End Page 173] groups. This immense social power may be directed towards reducing inequalities and promoting social justice, but, all too often, it is used to convey beliefs and norms that serve the interests of the privileged.Wilkerson's criticism is not reserved... (shrink)

S. L. Hurley; Myth Upon Myth, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, Volume 96, Issue 1, 1 June 1996, Pages 253–260, https://doi.org/10.1093/aristotelian/96.1.

The European Legacy, Volume 17, Issue 4, Page 547-548, July 2012.

Volume 20, Issue 8, August 2020, Page 41-43.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Beardsley for the Twenty-First CenturySusan L. Feagin (bio)When I was a graduate student in the early 1970s, Nelson Goodman's Languages of Art,1 published originally in 1968, was all the rage, eclipsing Beardsley's monumental Aesthetics: Problems in the Philosophy of Criticism as the most important book in the field at the time. Goodman's book veered decidedly away from aesthetics and toward the philosophy of art; insofar as "the aesthetic" remained, (...) it was explained in cognitive terms. However, Beardsley's Aesthetics continued to provide a valuable resource for those of us who took questions about value and evaluation to be central to the philosophical enterprise, even if we chose to focus on the philosophy of art more or less independently of the aesthetic. Beardsley's functionalist account of aesthetic value is adaptable as a framework for understanding artistic value and evaluation, as is his opposition to (what also seemed to me to be) the too-easy ploy of attributing intrinsic value to our experiences of art. I ended up writing my dissertation on general criteria of criticism—with a chapter devoted to Beardsley's views—arguing that once one employs the notion of artworks having a function, general criteria are not needed to provide a logical connection between a work's good-making or bad-making qualities and its value as a work of art.Nevertheless, Beardsley's instrumentalist view that the value of an artwork resides in its capacity to provide an aesthetic experience contains a major structural problem—what I shall call "Beardsley's dilemma," which he continued to struggle with in his later work.2 The problem lies in the tension between the claim that the value of a work resides in its capacity to evoke an experience having a certain phenomenological quality, and the claim that the properties or qualities of the work are valuable not merely as a means for producing such an experience. [End Page 11]Fifty years on, philosophers of art continue to struggle with this dilemma in various guises. Though the nature of aesthetic experience is still a lively topic of debate, it is just as common to find the evocation of emotions and other affective responses—from Aristotelian pity and fear; to anger and pride and horror; to moods such as sadness and melancholy—touted as among the functions of art.3 In the first section of this essay, I describe why understanding Beardsley's dilemma is important if one takes having emotions and other affective responses to art as part of what is valuable about it. Emotions, after all, are typically alleged to be "in us," not in the object; simply jettisoning the concept of aesthetic experience or aesthetic emotion does not make the dilemma go away. In the second section I distinguish between Beardsley's instrumentalism and a noninstrumentalist version of functionalism as two different models for understanding art's value. Noninstrumentalist functionalism involves the idea that the value of a work lies in the activity of appreciating what is (aesthetically or artistically) valuable about it, rather than in an experience that occurs as a result of perceiving the work. Some exercises involving the evaluation of art and nonart objects—exercises that might usefully be undertaken by students using objects of their own choosing—illustrate how functionalism skirts Beardsley's dilemma and better explicates the nature and locus of the values concerned.I: From Aesthetic Experience to Garden-Variety EmotionsThe view that at least some artworks have as part of their function the production of emotions or other affective responses is a contemporary analogue of Beardsley's instrumentalist view that the function of artworks is to provide an aesthetic experience. The contemporary analogue, however, is not committed to the view that all artworks have, in some abstract sense, the same function but only insists, minimally, that it is at least part of the function of some works of art to produce some variety of emotions and other affective responses. That is, producing emotions may be conceived of as part of the function of a work, and a perceiver's having them as part of appreciating its value.Beardsley's dilemma arises when (at... (shrink)

Wang, Xiaobo 王曉波, Dao and Fa: Explanation and Analysis of Legalist Thought and Huang-Lao Philosophy 道與法 : 法家思想和黃老哲學解析 Taipei 臺北: National Taiwan University Press 臺大出版中心, 2007, xiv+504 pages.

Volume 19, Issue 1, February 2020, Page 78-88.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Bioethics Commissions: Town Meetings with a “Blue, Blue Ribbon”Susan Cartier Poland (bio)Town meetings are characteristic of New England. In theory, a quorum of registered voters in a small municipality meets annually to decide local public policy. In fact, special interests and the town bureaucracy control the meeting.Like a town meeting, a commission (or committee or council) comes into being, whether on an ad hoc or permanent basis, to (...) direct a government function. Bioethics commissions specialize in one area: the intersection of public policy with developments, either real or anticipated, in the basic and applied sciences.That specialization of commissions carries over into the selection of the members. More often than not commission members are appointed on the basis of expertise in a specific area. Although some commissions are still made up entirely of one kind of expert, usually medical, the majority of these government bodies seek breadth between the fields of law, religion, ethics, and science (including medicine and the social sciences).In the words of Mrs. Rigenbach, the law clerk to Chief Judge Carl B. Rubin of the United States District Court for the Southern District of Ohio, selection of persons “knowledgeable in the field” constitutes a “blue, blue ribbon” jury. In contrast, a “blue ribbon” jury is composed of those persons having “the greatest amount of formal education” (In re Richardson-Merrill, Inc. (Bendectin litigation), 624 Federal Supplement 1212 at 1217 (1985)). The problem with persons knowledgeable in the field is that their minds may have already been made up. For a jury, this is a disaster; for a bioethics commission, this directs and shapes the research, investigation, and discussion, or, in short, it makes for more efficient decision making.For this Scope Note, the definition of commission begins with the Bioethicsline description of its index term “advisory committees” as committees or commissions set up to advise government bodies on public policy. Furthermore, a commission [End Page 91] (or committee) receives government funding and support in exchange for its expertise in research, investigation, reporting, and recommendations.Six functions served by bioethics commissions have been clearly and succinctly described by LeRoy Walters (Commissions and Bioethics. Journal of Medicine and Philosophy 14 (4): 363–68, August 1989). The functions are: (1) to legitimize action; (2) to delay action or resolution; (3) to identify duplication; (4) to be representative; (5) to do research and find facts; and (6) to provide education and support (pp. 364–65). Since 1989, however, another government function has moved to the forefront. Instead of remaining within the legislative arena, government commissions serve the judiciary as well, in cases involving complex and technical questions. The now defunct Law Reform Commission of Canada recognized this use when it included in its annual reports a section on its “Influence on Law Reform through Judicial Decisions.”In mid-1997, the United States Supreme Court in its consolidated cases on assisted suicide used extensively the writings from a state commission, the New York State Task Force on Life and the Law, to support its rationale. Not only did the Court make use of the Task Force’s work, but in so doing the Court extended the efforts of the commission beyond its jurisdiction of New York into another jurisdiction on the opposite coast, Washington state. Furthermore, although the commission was chartered by one state, through the federal court system, its influence became national.Outside the U.S., the United Nations recently adopted its first bioethics text on the ethics of genetic research, and Canada is reworking its human research guidelines into a single set of guidelines that will apply to research in both the natural sciences and the social sciences.This Scope Note attempts to compile for the researcher and the reference librarian those commissions, existing and defunct, that have addressed bioethics issues. Only one other such attempt is known to the author, an Office of Technology Assessment [OTA] Background Paper, Biomedical Ethics in U.S. Public Policy (1993). Due to space limitations, not all publications could be listed; the selections included represent the range of topics from a particular group or the more frequently cited sources. Future updates of this compilation are planned, so please notify the... (shrink)

View/download or read postprint via a streaming viewer with the turning page feature in SOAR, or click on the DOI link to access the publisher's copy of this article.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:“Can They Do This?” Dealing with Moral Distress after Third–Party Termination of the Doctor–Patient RelationshipSusan McCammonNot so long ago, a storm badly damaged the tertiary care hospital in which I practice surgical oncology. In the aftermath of the storm, the institution determined it was no longer able to provide unreimbursed cancer care, and many of my patients were terminated by a form letter from the hospital. The helplessness and (...) outrage that I experienced when I was first handed one of these letters, crumpled from the damp fist of one of my patients, was immense, and frightening in its unfamiliarity: “Can they do this?” I asked repeatedly, ascending a hierarchy of authority, which was increasingly reticent and then elusive. In short, the answer was “yes.”While this decision was made by the administration, its enactment was delegated to the physicians. Thus, not only were the physicians not involved in the decision to terminate their patients, they shouldered the burden of telling their patients that they would no longer be treated. The reason given—storm devastation—was contradicted by the orderly flow of insured patients in and out of unaffected clinics and hospitals.In those months, when the operating rooms were closed, I took to the road and learned about hospice and palliative care medicine on the ground. I drove from city to smaller city to the devastated countryside, locating my patients and providing all the care that I could with only my hands and mind and heart. I struggled with the limitations of the health care system and worked to rebuild a sustainable infrastructure at my own institution, all while trying to come to terms with bioethicist Haavi Morreim’s (1995) caution that “... it is not the physician who owes the resources at all. He cannot owe what others own and control, because moral obligations can only be assigned to those capable of fulfilling them” (p. 87).In considering my experience of moral distress over this period of time, I have reflected on the different connotations of the word, “practice.” I grappled with the philosophical terms “practice,” “praxis,” and “phronesis,” and I questioned their relevance to the word, as used in my professional life. However, in struggling to understand my moral obligations after the storm, when I was learning to do what I could, even when I couldn’t do what I felt like I should, I reconsidered. The elements of immersion, repetition, particularity, and utility that pervade this language of philosophers and artists turned out to be what preserved my ability [End Page 109] to practice medicine in a space holding only patient and practitioner.Many of the patients that I take care of are very poor. Many more are working but uninsured. This is a result of both their risk factors and the demographics and resources in my geographic catchment area. Their access to care was disrupted after a natural disaster and concerted efforts to reestablish it have not succeeded. Since then, I have learned how to tell people that they will die of cancer because they don’t have enough money. This is not a skill I was taught in medical school. I can talk about death, imminent or not, feared or anticipated. I can talk about unresectable tumors, treatments that have more risk than benefit (or no benefit at all), suffering beyond what has yet been experienced or imagined, helplessness, futility and grief. I could be neither surgeon nor oncologist without some facility with these. But I was unprepared for this move from medical to economic “can’t,” the nexus where an institutional “won’t” becomes a personal “can’t.”I should say here that I was not blind to the expense and technological hype of the American medico–industrial complex or our systematic marginalization of public health or the ever–present cries for health care reform. I understood that I was a steward and that I served both the individual and the society and had at my disposal what I was told were limited resources. These values, however, were only just being incorporated into the training of medical professionals; certainly they played no role in my own education. Morreim’s (1995) conclusion... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Dostoevsky and Schiller:National Renewal Through Aesthetic EducationSusan McReynoldsDostoevsky's novels pivot upon scenes of spiritual transformation, moments of revelation that resolve dilemmas for which no logical solution can be found. Raskolnikov, for example, analyzes his crime from philosophical and sociological angles until he almost dies; he is saved by his dream of the plague and by the image of Sonia's face. When insight and progress come to Dostoevsky's fictional characters, (...) they come as dream, memory, and rapture before images of beauty and suffering. The choice between spiritual and logical solutions confronting Dostoevsky's characters is also a choice between Russia and the West. The rationalism and corollary doctrine of egoism that drives characters like Svidrigailov, Stavrogin, and Ivan Karamazov to madness and death are clearly associated in Dostoevsky's novels with Western philosophy. The ability to surrender to the beneficial power of images is associated with characters like Dmitry Karamazov, who is able to accept the primacy of spiritual truth—the truth of his need for expiation—over the fact of his legal innocence of his father's murder. The breadth of spirit that renders Dmitry receptive to the truth revealed in his dream image of the suffering child is clearly identified in The Brothers Karamazov as a distinctively Russian national trait.The contrast between reason, death, and the West, on the one hand, and receptiveness to imagistic truth, salvation, and Russia, on the other, [End Page 353] drives the plots of Dostoevsky's novels. This familiar feature of Dostoevsky's art is first articulated in texts unfamiliar to most readers; the historical essays of the early 1860s that were among his first published works after his return from exile. In 1849, Dostoevsky was arrested as a member of the Petrashevsky Circle, an association dedicated to disseminating the tenets of Western socialism in Russia. For his participation in the Circle, Dostoevsky was initially condemned to death; the sentence was commuted to four years of hard labor in Siberian prison camp, to be followed by an indefinite period of military service in Siberian exile.When Dostoevsky returned to St. Petersburg and public life in 1860, he and his older brother Mikhail launched the journal Time. Mikhail served as editor. Dostoevsky would publish The Insulted and Injured and Notes from the House of the Dead in its pages, in addition to numerous essays dedicated to contemporary literature and events. The essays on Russia and Europe published in Time were a creative workshop in which some basic features of his later novels—most notably the contrast between Western positivism and Russian spirituality, conceived as the capacity to embrace imagistic revelations of the truth—were first developed. The pressure of Dostoevsky's developing artistic craft is clearly apparent in these non-fictional texts from the early 1860s, which narrate modern Russian and European history as a story structured by a dual plot of death and redemption.Before Dostoevsky wrote novels structured around the contrast between characters like Dmitry and Ivan Karamazov, he wrote essays structured around the contrast between Russia and Western nations like France and England. Before Crime and Punishment portrayed Raskolnikov's resurrection as the surrender to images offering glimpses of something that eludes rational analysis, Dostoevsky's essays in Time predicted national renewal for Russia through her embrace of the truths conveyed by the images of fine art. Some essays in Time compose a plot of national rebirth through the effects of artistic images for Russia, but others admonish readers with what Dostoevsky believed would be the terrible consequences of positivism for the West. Winter Notes on Summer Impressions, published in Time in 1863, casts France and England as mortally ill victims of a materialist worldview that can only grasp the challenges of modernity as scientific and political problems. The spiritual solutions that will be revealed to Russia through images of beauty, Dostoevsky warns, will elude nations ensnared in rational approaches to their problems. [End Page 354]Throughout his post-exile life, Dostoevsky believed that political improvement results from changes in the moral condition of individuals, inner changes that are catalyzed by images, not reached through rational deliberation. In 1861, he writes of the Imperial edict... (shrink)

Buben undertakes the ambitious project of providing "a compelling framework for understanding the ways in which philosophy has discussed death". This is a tall order for 136 pages of text, all the more so since he argues that the thinkers of western philosophy before Kierkegaard's and Heidegger's innovative existential philosophy of death can be broadly categorized into a Platonic strain, and an Epicurean strain. The Platonic strain suggests that death should not be feared, as the soul will survive the death (...) of the body. Thinkers such as the Apostle Paul, Plotinus, Augustine, Anselm, Aquinas, Luther, and Pascal are briefly discussed as examples. Membership in the Epicurean strain is marked by the conviction... (shrink)

Hastings Center Report, Volume 52, Issue 1, Page inside_front_cover-inside_front_cover, January/February 2022.

Journal Name: Semiotica - Journal of the International Association for Semiotic Studies / Revue de l'Association Internationale de Sémiotique Volume: 2013 Issue: 195 Pages: 373-408.

Journal Name: Semiotica - Journal of the International Association for Semiotic Studies / Revue de l'Association Internationale de Sémiotique Volume: 2013 Issue: 196 Pages: 551-570.

Journal Name: Semiotica - Journal of the International Association for Semiotic Studies / Revue de l'Association Internationale de Sémiotique Volume: 2013 Issue: 196 Pages: 513-519.

Journal Name: Semiotica - Journal of the International Association for Semiotic Studies / Revue de l'Association Internationale de Sémiotique Volume: 2013 Issue: 196 Pages: 533-548.

Journal Name: Semiotica - Journal of the International Association for Semiotic Studies / Revue de l'Association Internationale de Sémiotique Volume: 2013 Issue: 195 Pages: 97-118.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Plato’s Second Republic: An Essay on the Laws by André LaksSusan Sauvé MeyerLAKS, André. Plato’s Second Republic: An Essay on the Laws. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2022. x + 278 pp. Cloth, $35.00When the unnamed Athenian of Plato’s Laws specifies the constitution and law code for the (fictional) city of Magnesia, he retreats from some of the more notorious principles that structure the ideal city in the (...) Republic, most notably the prohibition against private property and private families for the city’s rulers and the explicit mandate that the rulers be philosophers. Magnesia will be governed by its property-owning citizens in a constitutional regime where law is the supreme political authority. Both [End Page 355] retreats are marked by the Athenian as making Magnesia “second best” in relation to the ideal.One of Laks’s striking theses is that the ideal from which the Laws’s second-best city falls short is not simply that of the Republic. Within the Laws itself, he argues, the Athenian articulates a “legislative utopia” and a constitutional ideal that are only imperfectly realized in the city identified as “second.” The constitutional ideal is articulated in book 3 in the mandate that a constitution achieve a mean (meson) between democracy and monarchy, while the legislative ideal underwrites the mandate in book 4 that laws should have persuasive preludes.While the constitutional “mean” mandated in book 3 is often characterized as “the mixed constitution,” Laks argues that what is mandated is not a mixture of monarchical and democratic institutions, but rather a synthesis of democracy and monarchy, with each institution implementing both democratic and monarchical principles. Laks calls such a mean a “middle.” If the mandated constitutional “middle” were fully achieved, he claims, democratic equality would be synthesized with the inequality of monarchy and thereby transformed from arithmetical into proportional equality. Similarly, democratic freedom would be synthesized with submission to authority, and transformed from negative freedom from authority into the positive freedom of rationality. Laks proposes that the freedom to emerge from this “metamorphosis” is the “voluntary servitude to the laws” lauded in book 3. While he acknowledges that Plato nowhere identifies such servitude to law as freedom, Laks locates that conception on the horizon of the conceptual metamorphosis of freedom that he finds in the Laws.Neither synthesis—of equality or of freedom—is perfectly achieved in the city whose constitution and law code are specified in the Laws, according to Laks; this is the burden of his remark that the constitution of Magnesia is “a mixture (sit venia verbo) of a mix and a middle.” A residue of unmitigated arithmetical equality remains in the constitution specified in book 6 to the extent that it includes a paradigmatically democratic procedure, the lottery, among the otherwise meritocratic procedures for appointing citizens to public office. A residue of despotism remains in the law code of Magnesia to the extent that the persuasive preludes to its statutes employ the manipulative rhetoric of praise and blame rather than philosophical arguments that display the rational grounding of the law in divine reason.Both retreats from the ideal are necessitated, on Laks’s interpretation, by the imperfect rationality of human beings. Not every person can learn to appreciate the superiority of proportional to arithmetical equality, or the perfect rationality of the laws’ prescriptions. In a “legislative utopia” citizens will obey the law because they appreciate its rational grounding, but that ideal is not fully achievable in a community of human beings. However rational the laws’ prescriptions may be, citizens’ obedience must be secured by nonrational means as well—hence the Athenian’s characterization of the politeia of the Laws as a “tragedy” (817b). [End Page 356]Laks’s exposition of these (and other) themes over the course of the volume is cumulative rather than sequential, diffuse rather than regimented, and deliberately sensitive to the literary features of Plato’s text and the ways in which its message may be allusive, indirect, or equivocal. What emerges from Laks’s learned engagement with the text is an interpretation that is “suggested” (an oft used phrase in the volume) rather than mandated by... (shrink)

_ Source: _Page Count 12 In his _Scepticism Comes Alive_, Bryan Frances contends that his “live skepticism” poses a genuine challenge to claims of knowledge in a way that classic “brain-in-a-vat” skepticism does not. This is mistaken. In this paper, I argue that Frances’s live skepticism dies on the horns of a dilemma: if we interpret a key premise in Frances’s skeptical argument template sociologically, then it undercuts itself, showing that there is no reason to accept it and the argument (...) fails. If we interpret that premise normatively, then the difference in the epistemic threat posed by live hypotheses compared to that of their moribund cousins evaporates, and with it, the purported distinctiveness of the live skeptical argument. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Athenian Religion: A HistorySusan Guettel ColeRobert Parker. Athenian Religion: A History. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. xxix 1 370 pp. Cloth, $55.Parker begins by acknowledging Durkheim’s claim that “religion is something eminently social” (1), but he is not interested in demonstrating how ritual activity was embedded in Athenian social relationships or even how traditional rituals colored Athenian political life. His target is not Athenian society itself, and his project (...) is not an analysis of the ways and means by which ritual created or defined community. His real interest, in fact, is not religion at all, but rather the administration of public ritual.Parker admits that issues of topography and the organization of space are important for understanding Attic ritual, but his preference for Athenian literature and epigraphical sources inevitably shapes his view of a “web of religious life in Attica... spun by the spider at the centre” (25). The calendar of the Salaminians is more important to his argument as a source on institutions than it is as a source for administration of ritual at the edges of Attica. This preference for center over hinterland overcomes even the lack of sources. Solon’s calendar of festivals and that shadowy ghost, the Attic genos, assume more importance than the great sanctuaries at Eleusis and Brauron.Recognizing archaeological material when relevant, Parker is nevertheless skeptical about current work that claims a relationship between material culture and the expression of polis identity (citing in particular Snodgrass, De Polignac, and Morgan). For Parker the “polis” is an abstraction, and an abstraction, he claims, cannot have a history. He does comment on issues of identity and community organization, but these issues are important only in the context of the community’s regulation of ritual, where Parker prefers the written word, preferably inscribed, to the material artifact.The history of Athenian religion, as laid out here, is a history of collective decision making and collective ritual. Parker begins with mountain rituals of Zeus, chiefly because Mount Hymettos preserves our earliest Attic inscriptions, but his interests and chronological range are otherwise limited by the evidence for Attic public record keeping. His interests are also limited by a narrow definition of collective ritual, conditioned perhaps by modern notions of political autonomy and an exaggerated affection for the institutions of Athenian democracy. His targeted time period therefore begins rather conventionally with Solon’s calendar of “sacrifices from the kurbeis” (Lys. 30.17) and ends with the latest evidence for tribe and deme decrees, evidence that trails off in the middle [End Page 293] of the third century b.c. In between we have chapters arranged chronologically, on hereditary priesthoods and the Attic genos, the sixth century and the organization of festivals, democracy and empire, new gods in the fifth century, the trial of Socrates, and the ritual innovations of the fourth century. This looks like a conventional list of topics, but with Parker’s interest in public institutions this sequence is actually only a chronological framework for his real project, the administration of ritual. Seen in this context the Attic genos is not, as once argued, a relic of archaic aristocratic institutions or a privileged group within the phratry, but an administrative solution to an organizational problem. In Parker’s view, the genos provided priests for public cults. Expansion of political rights in the fifth century eventually required ritual by committee, and although, he argues, the genos, as an institution, did not go out of existence, the privileged families that controlled the traditional priesthoods had to yield to the boards of officials that now supervised some of the more important public rituals.Innovations, perhaps because they are more easily detectable in the kind of evidence Parker prefers, stand out more than tradition. Ritual innovations of the fifth century included rites modeled on those elsewhere in Greece (Artemis Agrotera, Pan, and Boreas, for example). Parker explains these innovations in political terms, describing their introduction as a reflection of Athenian pride in overcoming the Persian threat. Religious innovations of the second half of the fifth century (rituals associated with Adonis, Sabazius, and Cybele, for instance) are treated not as an incoming surge of foreign influence (as... (shrink)