The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius are treasured today--as they have been over the centuries--as an inexhaustible source of wisdom. And as one of the three most important expressions of Stoicism, this is an essential text for everyone interested in ancient religion and philosophy. Yet the clarity and ease of the work's style are deceptive. Pierre Hadot, eminent historian of ancient thought, uncovers new levels of meaning and expands our understanding of its underlying philosophy. Written by the Roman emperor for (...) his own private guidance and self-admonition, the Meditations set forth principles for living a good and just life. Hadot probes Marcus Aurelius's guidelines and convictions and discerns the hitherto unperceived conceptual system that grounds them. Abundantly quoting the Meditations to illustrate his analysis, the author allows Marcus Aurelius to speak directly to the reader. And Hadot unfolds for us the philosophical context of the Meditations, commenting on the philosophers Marcus Aurelius read and giving special attention to the teachings of Epictetus, whose disciple he was. The soul, the guiding principle within us, is in Marcus Aurelius's Stoic philosophy an inviolable stronghold of freedom, the "inner citadel." This spirited and engaging study of his thought offers a fresh picture of the fascinating philosopher-emperor, a fuller understanding of the tradition and doctrines of Stoicism, and rich insight on the culture of the Roman empire in the second century. Pierre Hadot has been working on Marcus Aurelius for more than twenty years; in this book he distills his analysis and conclusions with extraordinary lucidity for the general reader. (shrink)

"The Emperor's New Mind" by Roger Penrose has received a great deal of both praise and criticism. This review discusses philosophical aspects of the book that form an attack on the "strong" AI thesis. Eight different versions of this thesis are distinguished, and sources of ambiguity diagnosed, including different requirements for relationships between program and behaviour. Excessively strong versions attacked by Penrose (and Searle) are not worth defending or attacking, whereas weaker versions remain problematic. Penrose (like Searle) regards the (...) notion of an algorithm as central to AI, whereas it is argued here that for the purpose of explaining mental capabilities the architecture of an intelligent system is more important than the concept of an algorithm, using the premise that what makes something intelligent is not what it does but how it does it. What needs to be explained is also unclear: Penrose thinks we all know what consciousness is and claims that the ability to judge Go "del's formula to be true depends on it. He also suggests that quantum phenomena underly consciousness. This is rebutted by arguing that our existing concept of "consciousness" is too vague and muddled to be of use in science. This and related concepts will gradually be replaced by a more powerful theory-based taxonomy of types of mental states and processes. The central argument offered by Penrose against the strong AI thesis depends on a tempting but unjustified interpretation of Goedel's incompleteness theorem. Some critics are shown to have missed the point of his argument. A stronger criticism is mounted, and the relevance of mathematical Platonism analysed. Architectural requirements for intelligence are discussed and differences between serial and parallel implementations analysed. (shrink)

The free energy principle, an influential framework in computational neuroscience and theoretical neurobiology, starts from the assumption that living systems ensure adaptive exchanges with their environment by minimizing the objective function of variational free energy. Following this premise, it claims to deliver a promising integration of the life sciences. In recent work, Markov blankets, one of the central constructs of the free energy principle, have been applied to resolve debates central to philosophy (such as demarcating the boundaries of the mind). (...) The aim of this paper is twofold. First, we trace the development of Markov blankets starting from their standard application in Bayesian networks, via variational inference, to their use in the literature on active inference. We then identify a persistent confusion in the literature between the formal use of Markov blankets as an epistemic tool for Bayesian inference, and their novel metaphysical use in the free energy framework to demarcate the physical boundary between an agent and its environment. Consequently, we propose to distinguish between “Pearl blankets” to refer to the original epistemic use of Markov blankets and “Friston blankets” to refer to the new metaphysical construct. Second, we use this distinction to critically assess claims resting on the application of Markov blankets to philosophical problems. We suggest that this literature would do well in differentiating between two different research programmes: “inference with a model” and “inference within a model.” Only the latter is capable of doing metaphysical work with Markov blankets, but requires additional philosophical premises and cannot be justified by an appeal to the success of the mathematical framework alone. (shrink)

Summary The article examines unofficial imperial nicknames, sobriquets and appellatives, from Octavian Augustus to Julian the Apostate, in the light of traditions of Roman political humour, and argues that in the political field during the Principate there were two co-existing competing modes of emperors’ naming: along with an official one, politically loyal, formalised and institutionally legitimised, there existed another – unofficial, sometimes oppositional and even hostile towards individual emperors, frequently licentious, humorously coloured and, in this regard, deeply rooted in Roman (...) Republican traditions of political humour. Many of the known imperial nicknames and appellatives belong to a specific kind of folklore and express popular public opinion. They survived for us because of ancient authors’ interest in using such material for their literary and ideological intentions, particularly to express better the individual characteristics of the historical personages. But, for the very same purposes, Greek and Roman writers could invent some names and sobriquets, following special rhetorical and moralising principles, or mere love of ridicule. All in all, most imperial nicknames, both authentic and made-up, reveal a rather good quality of humour and mockery constructed by expressive linguistic devices and various rhetorical tropes. An apt derisive nickname marked anti-values, mocked the ruler’s badness and could vilify his reputation to the extreme, stigmatise his personality, or else become a widely-used quasi-cognomen. Many nicknames and appellatives were of ephemeral, ad hoc nature, their sense and effect largely dependent on the particular context; but, taken as a whole, they demonstrate the possible scope of and common trends in naming practice. The political system of the Principate and its very atmosphere of hypocrisy did promote double meaning and double thinking reflected in the double system of the rulers’ nomenclature. Imperial nicknames were a counter-hegemonic transcript and a weapon in the struggle for symbolic capital. All the efforts which many emperors took to control their nomina were ultimately powerless against the strength of the inevitable humorous counter-naming by the ruled. (shrink)

The Swedish welfare debate increasingly focuses on market liberal notions and its healthcare perspective aims for more patient‐centered care. This article examines the new Swedish Patient Act describing and analyzing how the patient is constructed in government documents. This study takes a Foucauldian discourse analysis approach following Willig's analysis guide. The act contains an entitlement discourse for patients and a requirement discourse for healthcare personnel. These two discourses are governed by a values‐based healthcare discourse. Neo‐liberal ideology, in the form of (...) New Public Management discourse, focusing on the value of efficiency and competition, is given a hegemonic position as laws and regulations are used to strengthen it. The new Swedish Patient Act seems to further strengthen this development. The Act underlines the increased entitlement for patients, but it is not legally binding as it offers patients only indirect entitlement to influence and control their care. To safeguard the patient's entitlement under the Patient Act, healthcare personnel should be made aware of the contents of the Act, so that they can contribute to the creation of systems and working methods that facilitate respect of the Act's provisions in daily healthcare work. (shrink)

This essay equates Penrose's (1989) Emperor with the scientist engaging in mental (Schrödinger's cat) or real experiments.The simultaneous presence of apparently contradictory phase-spatial symmetry conditions on the various hierarchical levels of biological systems are seen as the result of genetic and neurophysiological information that interferes with the physico-chemical vectors between the structural components of the system, the experimenter being an integral part of this informational causality. Equations pertaining to the lowest structural levels of matter, therefore, may not be (...) extendable over higher levels of biological organization, including human science and technology, which are seen as part and parcel of biology. This situation calls for a formal theoretical biophysics which concentrates on macroscopic processes where life and, above all,Homo sapiens, is involved. (shrink)

祭禮는 禮學의 가장 큰 비중을 차지하고 있으며, 동아시아의 문화를 이해하는데 핵심 키워드라 할 수 있다. 또 『禮記』는 제례의 절차와 의미를 기술하고 있다는 점에서 제례 연구의 중요한 문헌이다. 戰國時代 이후 諸子百家는 통일왕조에 걸맞은 사상체계를 구축하기 위해 다양한 양상으로 발전을 이루었는데, 儒家 또한 禮制의 강화와 세분화를 통해 국가의 통치체제를 수립하려고 노력하였다. 儒家의 禮治主義에 나타난 큰 특징 중 하나는 군왕중심의 尊王思想이다. 이것은 祭禮에도 반영되어 군왕을 중심으로 제사의 대상과 범위를 차등화시켰고, 非禮에 해당하는 금지사항을 규정함으로써 계층 간의 차별을 합리화하고 禮法을 통해 불화를 종식시켰다. 이러한 사상은 (...) 禮制를 통해 국가체제를 유지하고 안정을 도모하는데 목적을 둔다. 『禮記』에 나타난 제례 관련 기술에서도 이러한 내용들이 수없이 나타나는데, 제례의 각 절차와 사용되는 기물 및 장소 등에 대해서 수없이 많은 차등적 규정을 제정하여 계층의 분화를 확고히 하고 있다. 따라서 祭禮는 제사를 주관하는 군왕의 권력을 강화하고, 각종 규범을 통해 계급질서를 공고히 하고 제사에 참여하는 구성원들의 복종을 의무화한다. 祭禮에서 尊王思想의 영향을 확인할 수 있는 것은 숭대대상의 제한과 강화이다. 祭禮의 숭배대상은 自然神과 祖上神으로 구별된다. 『禮記』에서는 自然神을 숭배할 수 있는 권한을 군왕에게 국한시켰고, 그 휘하의 계층에 대해서는 차등적 규정을 제정하여 계층간의 초월을 금지하였다. 또한 天神 및 地神과 같이 농경사회에서 절대적으로 숭배 받던 대상을 天子만이 숭배할 수 있도록 제한함으로써, 천자의 위엄을 과시하고 신장시켰다. 祖上神에 있어서는 大宗과 小宗의 구별을 엄격히 규정하고, 祖上神에 대한 祭禮를 宗子만의 특권으로 제한하였다. 따라서 혈연관계에 속한 수많은 族人들은 같은 祖上을 모신다는 혈연의식으로 결속됨과 동시에, 조상을 숭배하듯 宗子를 숭배하게 되었다. 군왕은 고정불변의 大宗이자 宗子의 지위를 계승하게 된다. 따라서 조상에 대한 숭배의식이 강화될수록 군왕의 권위는 향상되고, 제사에 참여하는 구성원들의 복종의식도 확고해지는 결과를 초래하게 된다. 이와 같이 『禮記』에 나타난 尊王思想적 祭禮觀은 제왕중심의 통치체제와 연결되며, 君權을 강화하기 위한 제도적 기능으로 작용하였다. (shrink)

Recently, a number of authors have suggested that we understand scientific models in the same way as fictional characters, like Sherlock Holmes. The biggest challenge for this approach concerns the ontology of fictional characters. I consider two responses to this challenge, given by Roman Frigg, Ronald Giere and Peter Godfrey-Smith, and argue that neither is successful. I then suggest an alternative approach. While parallels with fiction are useful, I argue that models of real systems are more aptly compared to works (...) that portray real people, like the Emperor Claudius. This approach will allow us to avoid problems with fictional characters. (shrink)

First of all, we would like to gratefully thank all commentators for the attention and effort they have put into reading and responding to our review paper [this issue] and for useful observations that suggest novel applications for our framework. We understand and accept that some of our claims might appear controversial and raise skepticism, because the overall neural framework we have proposed is difficult to frame in established categories, given its strong multidisciplinary character. To make an example, Elsevier is (...) publishing the British Neuroscience Association (BNA) 2017 Special Issue Collection. However, our paper could not fully fit in any of their Special Issues—attention, motivation, behavior; sensory and motor systems; novel treatments and translational neuroscience; genetics and epigenetics; learning and memory; neurodegenerative disorders and ageing; developmental neuroscience; neuronal, glial and cellular mechanisms; neuroendocrine and autonomic nervous systems; psychiatry and mental health; methods and techniques. Perhaps because our paper was mathematically, physically, biologically (neuroscientifically), and phenomenologically motivated from the start? Nevertheless, venturing in novel, fresh, testable proposals is badly needed in contemporary neuroscience, so to break into “the utter darkness of the inner mechanism of psychic acts… during the production of the concomitant phenomena of perception and thought, namely, feelings, consciousness and volition”—as Cajal had already observed in his opus magnus ‘Textura’. But as he soberly confessed: “This ideal is still very distant” (Ramon y Cajal, 1899-1904, p. 1,141). In the pursuit of that very ideal, neuroscience and psychology have had, and continue to have, a plethora of movements and schools of thought: behaviorism, cognitivism, neural Darwinism, social constructivism, Bayesian optimization...In our paper, we propose to go a step further, via the notion of topodynamics, towards “projectionism.” In what follows, trying to elucidate the main features of this Emperor’s new clothing, we proceed with the responses to the comments received. (shrink)

In an attempt to place Kashiwagi historically, this article traces the formation of his thinking. Despite having inherited his father’s Shin Buddhist temple, Kashiwagi chose to work as a Christian pastor. Later in life he turned his attention to specifically Christian philosophy, but his early exposure to Buddhism as well as a primary education in Confucianism were decisive in shaping his ideas. In this sense, Kashiwagi represents one prototype of Meiji Japan’s adoption of Christianity: having grown up with the writings (...) of Shinran and the Chinese classics, he remained grounded in his own multi-religious and intercultural background without sliding into simple syncretism. From this standpoint he took part in the prevailing controversy over the emperor system. Without compromising his commitments to universal Christian orthodoxy on the one hand, and critical thinking on the other, Kashiwagi argued for the special significance of the emperor, as these pages will document. (shrink)

According to some proponents and critics of research using animals, the greatest hope for improved conditions for laboratory animals is to be found in the system of self-regulation called for by recent legislation and the NIH's revised policy. This article explores advantages and disadvantages of relying on "Institutional Animal Care and Use Committees" to subject research proposals to ethical scrutiny. Among the advantages discussed are: institutional dialogue concerning the ethics of research; inclusion of perspectives of nonscientists in such dialogues; (...) and the possibility of improved research proposals. Despite these advantages, I argue that serious problems with the committee system may limit the degree to which conditions for animals are actually improved. Disadvantages discussed include: limitations in the scope of the review process, and built-in bias in favor of certain philosophical stances in the composition of the committees. Keywords: laboratory animals, ethics review committees, self-regulation, NIH policy, Animal Welfare Act CiteULike Connotea Del.icio.us What's this? (shrink)

This article highlights the significance of the “Za shuo” 雜說 (Miscellaneous discourses) series for the study of Han Yu’s 韓愈 (768–824) political ideology, which proposes a three-tier system of governance that is made up of the emperor, the feudal lords, and the bureaucrats. The emperor is the pinnacle of the system; he collaborates with his ministers to devise state policies in the inner palace. The feudal lords protect the emperor in the regional areas. The bureaucrats (...) form the machinery of the government and implement its policies. Challenging current scholarship, which treats each of Han Yu’s essays independently, the article proposes a new interpretation of them as a whole It argues that the three essays “Long shuo” 龍說 (Discourse on the dragon), “Yi shuo” 醫說 (Discourse on physicians), and “Ma shuo” 馬說 (Discourse on horses) form an organic unit that provides internally consistent counsel to the ruler for his governance, and that a fourth essay, “Ti Cui Shanjun zhuan” 題崔山君傳 (Foreword to the biography of Cui Shanjun), is likely an interpolation. Through unearthing the true meaning of this series, the article also narrows down its time of composition, which has traditionally been left unspecified. This article also reveals Han Yu’s attitude toward the revived concern over the enfeoffment of princes in medieval China and toward his political ideology, which is not purely Confucian. The article thus is a contribution to the study of both political history and literary creation in the mid-Tang era. (shrink)

"Now we have heard that, as for those sages before Confucius, if it had not been for Confucius, there would have been no way for them to be known, and as for those sages after Confucius, if not for him, there would have been no one for them to emulate. He is called the one who transmitted Yao and Shun as if they were his own ancestors, who took as his model Wen and Wu, patterned himself after the hundred kings, (...) and served as the pattern to be imitated for ten thousand generations." This is an important passage of an edict issued in the eleventh year of the Ta-te Emperor of the Yuan dynasty which bestowed upon Confucius the exclusive title of Fully Perfected Great Sage [ta-ch'eng chih-sheng]. Obviously, in terms of human attainment, Confucius was truly a great person of great learning, character, and usefulness. For two thousand years, his doctrines and his behavior as a man have had a great role and influence in China's cultural and material systems, scholarly thought, social morality, and even her order or disorder, prosperity or decay. If we were to remove his role and influence, then could two thousand years of China's history and culture have developed as it has, with a tradition still present? This is a good question. From this it is clear that Confucius' relationship to Chinese culture was most important. (shrink)

Tosaka Jun (1900-1945) was one of modern Japan's most unique and important critics of capitalism, the emperor system, imperialism, and everyday life in wartime Japan. This collection of translations contains some of Tosaka's most important essays and original articles on Tosaka.

John Dewey’s stay in Tokyo in early 1919 coincided with the height of the social movement calling for parliamentary democracy in Japan. His lectures at Tokyo Imperial University offered a new way of viewing the world and human actions that emphasizes the importance of communication and the growth of democratic personality. Those who expected to hear from him something else were disillusioned. But the disillusionment was mutual. Dewey was disillusioned by the Japanese intellectuals whose affection for European philosophy led them (...) to an uncritical acceptance of the emperor system and Japan’s imperialism abroad. His criticism toward the Japanese intellectuals grew severe as he saw the Japanese aggression while he was on the continent. Dewey’s lecture on democracy left some impact on a few of intellectuals who modified their view of person’s actions that was eventually to be crashed when Japan fell into the all-out war-making. (shrink)

Japanese nationalism after World War II emerged out of the U. S. occupation of Japan. Rather than oppressing nationalist sentiment, the U. S. occupation administration nurtured the sense of national uniqueness and continuity in Japan and helped absolve Japanese colonial guilt and war responsibility. This U S. strategy toward Japan is best symbolized by the way the emperor system was reconstructed as part of the American reign in East Asia. Although it sometimes reveals its anti-American emotion, Japanese nationalism (...) is in complicity with the US. hegemony in East Asia, in such a way that Japan’s subjugation to US. policies is further intensified as its nationalism manifests more jingoistic tendencies. Perhaps we should find an intimation of today’s global complicity of the peripheral state with the super-state in this entanglement. (shrink)

This article offers a new interpretation of the theme of servile ‘crime and punishment’ in the Cena Trimalchionis. Focussing on scenes that directly involve the dinner host, it argues that the domestic justice system that they flesh out adds nuance to the satirical bite of the episode. An initial overview of the instances of ‘crime and punishment’ involving enslaved characters demonstrates how these scenes parade not just Trimalchio's wealth but his masterly power overreaching that of private domini. While previous (...) scholarship understood Trimalchio's questionable chastisements as indicative of this parvenu's pretensions, this article shows that they cumulatively develop an image of a jumbled execution of justice—brought to life through the presence of state functionaries, judicial infrastructures and penalties normally executed by the state. The climax of this image is hidden in plain sight, in a hitherto underappreciated scene involving purple wool (54.3–5), discussion of which proves in conclusion that the instances of servile ‘crime and punishment’ craftily build a subplot that plays on the freedman's imperial authority. The imperial matrix already recognized in several dimensions of the Cena in earlier scholarship unmistakably characterizes Trimalchio's domestic jurisdiction too; arbitrary and unfair, it offers biting comment on the state of Roman justice during the Principate with the progressive channelling of justice through the sole authority of the emperor. In sum, the servile ‘crime and punishment’ theme works as a fierce attack on the imperial government, encouraging broader reconsideration of the target of Petronius’ satirical pen. (shrink)

The Ottoman legal system is built on religious (sharīʿa) and customary (ʿurfī) laws. The customary law consists of the rules that are not in contrast to the sacred law. Collection of regulations (qānūnnāme) were the most effective way for the execution of the customary laws. The qānūnnāme included the sultan’s orders and edicts (farman). Ottomans regulated and evaluated the taxes through measurements of lands specific times of the year. These measurements would be recorded into the taḥrīr books (written survey (...) of immovable prop-erties). And the administrative qānūnnāme were included in these books. In the qānūnnāmes, we can find information about the taxes, and the unlawful executions of the customary actors (ahl al-ʿurf) as well as the tax regulations. The qānūnnāmes on sanjak are composed accord-ing to the economic, social, and geographical characteristics of the administrative district it is written about, and with this, they provide us information on these issues. In this article, three sanjak qānūnnāmes are taken as the central topic and Kamah, Āmid, Pojega are evaluated in terms of the execution of customary law in these districts. These qānūnnāmes include record-ings of various taxing regulations, altered and cancelled executions, amounts of taxes, and punishments. We can compare the three districts in their economic and social characteristics.Summary: The Ottoman legal system consists of sharia and customary law. Ordinary law is based on some regulations which the sultan deems necessary and is composed of laws. The Ordinary law should not contradict sharia. When the Ottomans conquered a place, they generally protected the current laws (such as Uzun Hasan's laws), except for necessary changes or cancellations. When the Ottomans conquered a place, they used to make census to determine taxes. As a result of this census, Sanjak qānūnnāmes were placed in taḥrīr books. It also involves issues such as public and criminal law, customary tax regulations, and amounts of market taxes, which are approved by the emperor. In this article, the Sanjak qānūnnāmes of different regions belonging to the period of Suleiman the Magnificent, whose dates are close to each other, were selected. The Sanjak qānūnnāmes which are studied on are Kemah sanjak of Erzurum province belonging to (937/1530) and Āmid sanjak of Diyarbekir province belonging to (947/1540) and Pojega sanjak of Budin province belonging to (950/1545). The reason for this is to be able to compare the differences or stableness in tax and practices in the mentioned date range. At the same time, attention has been paid to the effectiveness of customary practices and the parts that are linked to sharīʾa. Some of the laws of Uzun Hasan are in force in Kemah and Amid. In these two sanjaks, some of the bâc taxes and some other taxes were removed. It is seen that the complaints made by the public due to the excess of taxes are taken into consideration. For example, in Kemah, the akche of murahhasiyye paid by the villagers for Armenian priests and bishops is one of them. The taxes that are abolished include kulluk and blend tax and taxes from various business lines. The tax, which was collected by the governors of the sanjak and the castle beys under the name of custom, which was imposed by some local administrators, was cancelled by seeing bidat. When three of the sanjaks are taken together, there are cautions that unfair and unlawful tax collections made by local administrators during tax collection have been abolished and these are accepted as bidat. Kemah sanjak qānūnnāme is 13 pages in total. Kemah, which has a geographical position and military transit route, has commercial relations with cities such as Trabzon and Hasankeyf. In Kemah, there are candle mill (şemhane), creamery (bezirhane) and tavern (meyhane). Kemah is one of the places where the climate has an impact on agriculture. Kemah's economy is based on trade, agriculture, small livestock, beekeeping. In Kemah, where caravan trade is important, trade goods are of value due to its location on the transit road. The Kemah qānūnnāme also contains various taʿzīr for unjust killing, wounding, and adultery. In the city, there are some arcs have ownership in common. The fact that there are mills indicates that the rivers in Kemah are utilized. Âmid Sanjak qānūnnāme consists of two pages. The title that attracts our most attention is that there is vitality and economic activity in the market since Âmid is on the Aleppo-Mosul Silk Road. The high number of weaving looms is due to the production of cotton. Amid has dye house and saphane. Indigo and Amid's red dye sold in the market shows the importance of weaving. Pojega sanjak qānūnnāme is composed of seven pages. Among the qānūnnāmes we have mentioned, this is the most legible one. In addition to the old practices, there are some new regulations in this qānūnnāme. The pig tax is only here because of the non-Muslim population. Transit tax fees indicate trading viability. Based on the studies made on these three sanjaks, it can be said that in the qānūnnāme, the rights of the raia (reaya) were tried to be protected by the rescript of the Sultan himself. Therefore, the most remarkable things in the qānūnnāme are not allowed unfair practices of local administrators and without the need to collect taxes from the public. The dates of the qānūnnāme are close to each other and Despite geographical differences, there is no remarkable change in taxation. Although there are non-Muslim populations in all three sanjaks, it is mostly in the Pojega sanjak. The fact that the pig tax is collected only from this sanjak is evidence of this situation. The presence of meyhane in Kemah, Amid and Pojega sanjaks point to the non-Muslim population. It is also used as a place where the villagers sell their grape juice. The mill tax on Kemah and Pojega show that rivers are used in common. (shrink)

Analysis provided in The Emperor's New Markov Blankets reveals that there is limited potential for practical application of Pearl and Friston blankets. However, Bruineberg and colleagues' analysis includes a simple diagram that has potential to better enable shared understanding of interactions between free energy principle constructs during the design and implementation of biosocial–technical systems.

This paper critiques the new mechanistic explanatory program on grounds that, even when applied to the kinds of examples that it was originally designed to treat, it does not distinguish correct explanations from those that blunder. First, I offer a systematization of the explanatory account, one according to which explanations are mechanistic models that satisfy three desiderata: they must 1) represent causal relations, 2) describe the proper parts, and 3) depict the system at the right ‘level.’ Second, I argue (...) that even the most developed attempts to fulfill these desiderata fall short by failing to appropriately constrain explanatorily apt mechanistic models. -/- *This paper used to be called "The Emperor's New Mechanisms". (shrink)

Contemporary health care often lacks generosity of spirit, even when treatment is most efficient. Too many patients are left unhappy with how they are treated, and too many medical professionals feel estranged from the calling that drew them to medicine. Arthur W. Frank tells the stories of ill people, doctors, and nurses who are restoring generosity to medicine--generosity toward others and to themselves. The Renewal of Generosity evokes medicine as the face-to-face encounter that comes before and after diagnostics, pharmaceuticals, and (...) surgeries. Frank calls upon the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius, philosopher Emmanuel Levinas, and literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin to reflect on stories of ill people, doctors, and nurses who transform demoralized medicine into caring relationships. He presents their stories as a source of consolation for both ill and professional alike and as an impetus to changing medical systems. Frank shows how generosity is being renewed through dialogue that is more than the exchange of information. Dialogue is an ethic and an ideal for people on both sides of the medical encounter who want to offer more to those they meet and who want their own lives enriched in the process. The Renewal of Generosity views illness and medical work with grace and compassion, making an invaluable contribution to expanding our vision of suffering and healing. (shrink)

A Lasting tradition among the ancients marked Sicily as the birthplace and Tisias and Corax as inventors of the art of rhetoric: and in this tradition, legendary though it became, there is a stricter truth than in most of the stories related about the foundation of invented arts. We, with more elaborate historical views, shall still say of rhetoric that it was created at a certain epoch; and can still point to the Sicilians Tisias and Corax as its authors. Oratory, (...) to be sure, has existed almost as long as speech. Its beginnings are prehistoric, and must in any case be imperceptible; and if by rhetorician we meant no more than one who uses speech with more than common effect, we might set the origin of rhetoric as far back as we chose, and could hardly bring it lower than the beginning of recorded literature. Indeed we are told that under the Antonine Emperors the eminent scholar Telephus of Pergamum wrote a book on Rhetoric in Homer, in which he illustrated from the Poet the whole contemporary system of the art down to the thirteen constitutions of Minucian; and in the same spirit the Venerable Bede, resenting the claim of the Greeks to have invented tropes and figures of speech, wrote a short work to show that they could all be found in Holy Scripture. But such inquiries, even when conducted less foolishly than by Telephus and less incompetently than by Bede, are irrelevant to the proper history of rhetoric. Let the practice of oratory have begun when it may, the first attempts known to us in Classical Antiquity to formulate a series of principles for the art of speech were made in the fifth century before Christ. These earliest systems were naturally very imperfect: they could not immediately be either comprehensive or well organized. But they were something that had not existed at all before: methodical principles for speaking. At the moment when these were first set out the art of rhetoric began. (shrink)

continent. 2.2 (2012): 66–75 ~*~ We’re Doomed. Pessimism is the night-side of thought, a melodrama of the futility of the brain, a poetry written in the graveyard of philosophy. Pessimism is a lyrical failure of philosophical thinking, each attempt at clear and coherent thought, sullen and submerged in the hidden joy of its own futility. The closest pessimism comes to philosophical argument is the droll and laconic “We’ll never make it,” or simply: “We’re doomed.” Every effort doomed to failure, every (...) project doomed to incompletion, every life doomed to be unlived, every thought doomed to be unthought. Pessimism is the lowest form of philosophy, frequently disparaged and dismissed, merely the symptom of a bad attitude. No one ever needs pessimism, in the way that one needs optimism to inspire one to great heights and to pick oneself up, in the way one needs constructive criticism, advice and feedback, inspirational books or a pat on the back. No one needs pessimism, though I like to imagine the idea of a pessimist activism. No one needs pessimism, and yet everyone—without exception—has, at some point in their lives, had to confront pessimism, if not as a philosophy then as a grievance—against one’s self or others, against one’s surroundings or one’s life, against the state of things or the world in general. There is little redemption for pessimism, and no consolation prize. Ultimately, pessimism is weary of everything and of itself. Pessimism is the philosophical form of disenchantment—disenchantment as chanting, a chant, a mantra, a solitary, monophonic voice rendered insignificant by the intimate immensity surrounding it. In pessimism, the first axiom is a long, low, funereal sigh. ~*~ We’re Still Doomed. No one has time for pessimism. After all, there are only so many hours in a day. Whatever our temperament, happy or sad, engaged or disengaged, we know pessimism when we hear it. The pessimist is usually understood as the complainer, forever pointing out what is wrong with the world without ever once offering a solution. But more often than not pessimists are the quietest of philosophers, submerging their own sighs within the lethargy of discontent. What little sound it makes is of interest to no one—“I’ve heard it all before,” “tell me something I don’t know,” sound and fury, signifying nothing. In raising problems without solutions, in posing questions without answers, in retreating to the hermetic, cavernous abode of complaint, pessimism is guilty of that most inexcusable of Occidental crimes—the crime of not pretending it’s for real. Pessimism fails to live up to the most basic tenet of philosophy—the “as if.” Think as if it will be helpful, act as if it will make a difference, speak as if there is something to say, live as if you are not, in fact, being lived by some murmuring non-entity both shadowy and muddied. Had it more self-assurance and better social skills, pessimism would turn its disenchantment into a religion, possibly calling itself The Great Refusal. But there is a negation in pessimism that refuses even such a Refusal, an awareness that, from the start, it has already failed, and that the culmination of all that is, is that all is for naught. Pessimism tries very hard to present itself in the low, sustained tones of a Requiem Mass, or the tectonic rumbling of Tibetan chant. But it frequently lets loose dissonant notes at once plaintive and pathetic. Often, its voice cracks, its weighty words abruptly reduced to mere shards of guttural sound. ~*~ Maybe It’s Not So Bad, After All. If we know pessimism when we hear it, this is because we’ve heard it all before—and we didn’t need to hear it in the first place. Life is hard enough. What you need is a change of attitude, a new outlook, a shift in perspective... a cup of coffee. If we have no ears for pessimism, this is because it is always reducible to something as reliably mutable as a voice. If pessimism is so frequently disparaged, it is because it brings everyone down, determined as it is to view each day as a bad day, if only by virtue of the fact that it is not yet a bad day. For pessimism the world is brimming with negative possibility, the collision of a bad mood with an impassive world. In fact, pessimism is the result of a confusion between the world and a statement about the world, a confusion that also prevents it from fully entering the hallowed halls of philosophy. If pessimism is so often dismissed, this is because it is often impossible to separate a “bad mood” from a philosophical proposition (and do not all philosophies stem from a bad mood?) The very term “pessimism” suggests a school of thought, a movement, even a community. But pessimism always has a membership of one—maybe two. Ideally, of course, it would have a membership of none, with only a scribbled, illegible note left behind by someone long forgotten. But this seems unrealistic, though one can always hope. ~*~ Anatomy of Pessimism. Though it may locate itself at the margins of philosophy, pessimism is as much subject to philosophical analysis as any other form of thought. Pessimism’s lyricism of failure gives it the structure of music. What time is to the music of sorrow, reason is to a philosophy of the worst. Pessimism’s two major keys are moral and metaphysical pessimism, its subjective and objective poles, an attitude towards the world and a claim about the world. For moral pessimism, it is better not to have been born at all; for metaphysical pessimism, this is the worst of all possible worlds. For moral pessimism the problem is the solipsism of human beings, the world made in our own image, a world-for-us. For metaphysical pessimism, the problem is the solipsism of the world, objected and projected as a world-in-itself. Both moral and metaphysical pessimism are compromised philosophically; moral pessimism by its failure to locate the human within a larger context, and metaphysical pessimism by its failure to recognize the complicity in the very claim of realism. This is how pessimism makes its music of the worst, a generalized misanthropy without the anthropos . Pessimism crystallizes around this futility—it is its amor fati , rendered as musical form. ~*~ Melancholy of Anatomy. There is a logic of pessimism that is fundamental to its suspicion of philosophical system. Pessimism involves a statement about a condition . In pessimism each statement boils down to an affirmation or a negation, just as any condition boils down to the best or the worst. With Schopenhauer, that arch-pessimist, the thinker for whom the philosopher and the curmudgeon perfectly overlap, we see a no-saying to the worst, a no-saying that secretly covets a yes-saying (through asceticism, mysticism, quietism), even if this hidden yes-saying is a horizon at the limits of comprehension. With Nietzsche comes the pronouncement of a Dionysian pessimism, a pessimism of strength or joy, a yes-saying to the worst, a yes-saying to this world as it is. And with Cioran yet another variation, futile yet lyrical, a no-saying to the worst, and a further no-saying to the possibility of any other world, in here or out there. With Cioran one approaches, but never reaches, an absolute no-saying, a studied abandonment of pessimism itself. The logic of pessimism moves through three refusals: a no-saying to the worst (refusal of the world-for-us, or Schopenhauer’s tears); a yes-saying to the worst (refusal of the world-in-itself, or Nietzsche’s laughter); and a no-saying to the for-us and the in-itself (a double refusal, or Cioran’s sleep). Crying, laughing, sleeping—what other responses are adequate to a life that is so indifferent? ~*~ Cosmic Pessimism. Both moral and metaphysical pessimism point to another kind, a pessimism that is neither subjective nor objective, neither for-us nor in-itself, and instead a pessimism of the world-without-us. We could call this a cosmic pessimism ... but this sounds too majestic, too full of wonder, too much the bitter aftertaste of the Great Beyond. Words falter. And so do ideas. And so we have a cosmic pessimism, a pessimism that is first and last a pessimism about cosmos , about the necessity and possibility of order. The contours of cosmic pessimism are a drastic scaling-up or scaling-down of the human point of view, the unhuman orientation of deep space and deep time, and all of this shadowed by an impasse, a primordial insignificance, the impossibility of ever adequately accounting for one’s relationship to thought—all that remains of pessimism is the desiderata of affects—agonistic, impassive, defiant, reclusive, filled with sorrow and flailing at that architectonic chess match called philosophy, a flailing that pessimism tries to raise to the level of an art form (though what usually results is slapstick). ~*~ Song of Futility. An ethics of futility pervades pessimism. Futility, however, is different from fatality, and different again from simple failure (though failure is never simple). Failure is a breakage within the heart of relations, a fissure between cause and effect, a fissure hastily covered over by trying and trying again. With failure, there is always plenty of blame to go around; it’s not my fault, it’s a technical difficulty, it’s a miscommunication. For the pessimist, failure is a question of “when,” not “if”—failure as a metaphysical principle. Everything withers and passes into an obscurity blacker than night, everything from the melodramatic decline of a person’s life to the banal flickering moments that constitute each day. Everything that is done undone, everything said or known destined for a kind of stellar oblivion. When scaled up in this way, failure becomes fatality. Fatality is the hermeticism of cause and effect. In fatality, everything you do, whatever you do, always leads to a certain end, and ultimately to the end—though that end, or the means to that end, remain shrouded in obscurity. Nothing you do makes a difference because everything you do makes a difference. Hence the effects of your actions are hidden from you, even as you deceive yourself into thinking that, at last, this time you will outwit the order of things. By having a goal, planning ahead, and thinking things through carefully, we attempt, in a daily Prometheanism, to turn fatality to our advantage, to gain a glimpse of an order that seems buried deeper and deeper in the fabric of the universe. But even fatality has its comforts. The chain of cause and effect may be hidden from us, but that’s just because disorder is the order we don’t yet see; it’s just complex, distributed, and requires advanced mathematics. Fatality still clings to the sufficiency of everything that exists... When fatality relinquishes even this idea, it becomes futility. Futility arises out of the grim suspicion that, behind the shroud of causality we drape over the world, there is only the indifference of what exists or doesn’t exist; whatever you do ultimately leads to no end, an irrevocable chasm between thought and world. Futility transforms the act of thinking into a zero-sum game. ~*~ Song of the Worst. At the center of pessimism lies the term pessimus , “the worst,” a term as relative as it is absolute. The worst is about as bad as it gets, “the worst” as “the best” in disguise, shrouded by the passage of time or the twists and turns of fortune. For the pessimist, “the worst” is the propensity for suffering that gradually occludes each living moment, until it eclipses it entirely, overlapping perfectly in death... which, for the pessimist, is no longer “the worst.” Pessimism is marked by an unwillingness to move beyond “the worst,” something only partially attributable to a lack in motivation. In pessimism “the worst” is the ground that gives way beneath every existent—things could be worse, and , things could be better. “The worst” invariably implies a value judgment, one made based on scant evidence and little experience; in this way, pessimism’s greatest nemesis is its moral orientation. Pessimism’s propositions have all the gravitas of a bad joke. Perhaps this is why the true optimists are the most severe pessimists—they are optimists that have run out of options. They are almost ecstatically inundated by the worst. Such an optimism is the only possible outcome of a prolonged period of suffering, physical or metaphysical, intellectual or spiritual. But does this not also describe all the trials and tribulations of each day—in short, of “life?” It seems that sooner or later we are all doomed to become optimists of this sort (the most depressing of thoughts...) ~*~ Song of Doom. Rather than serving as a cause for despair, gloom and doom are the forms of consolation for any pessimist philosophy. Neither quite affects nor quite concepts, gloom and doom transform pessimism into a mortification of philosophy. Doom is not just the sense that all things will turn out badly, but that all things inevitably come to an end, irrespective of whether or not they really do come to an end. What emerges from doom is a sense of the unhuman as an attractor, a horizon towards which the human is fatally drawn. Doom is humanity given over to unhumanity in an act of crystalline self-abnegation. Gloom is not simply the anxiety that precedes doom. Gloom is literally atmospheric, climate as much as impression, and if people are also gloomy, this is simply the by-product of an anodyne atmosphere that only incidentally involves human beings. Gloom is more climatological than psychological, the stuff of dim, hazy, overcast skies, of ruins and overgrown tombs, of a misty, lethargic fog that moves with the same languorousness as our own crouched and sullen listening to a disinterested world. In a sense, gloom is the counterpoint to doom—what futility is to the former, fatality is to the latter. Doom is marked by temporality—all things precariously drawn to their end—whereas gloom is the austerity of stillness, all things sad, static, and suspended, a meandering smoke hovering over cold lichen stones and damp fir trees. If doom is the terror of temporality and death, then gloom is the horror of a hovering stasis that is life. At times I like to imagine that this realization alone is the thread that connects the charnel ground Aghori and the graveyard poets. ~*~ Song of Spite. There is an intolerance in pessimism that knows no bounds. In pessimism spite begins by fixing on a particular object of spite—someone one hardly knows, or someone one knows too well; a spite for this person or a spite for all of humanity; a spectacular or a banal spite; a spite for a noisy neighbor, a yapping dog, a battalion of strollers, the meandering idiot walking in front of you on their smart phone, large loud celebrations, traumatic injustices anywhere in the world regurgitated as media blitz, spite for the self-absorbed and overly performative people talking way too loud at the table next to you, technical difficulties and troubleshooting, the reduction of everything to branding, spite of the refusal to admit one’s own errors, of self-help books, of people who know absolutely everything and make sure to tell you, of all people, all living beings, all things, the world, the spiteful planet, the inanity of existence... Spite is the motor of pessimism because it is so egalitarian, so expansive, it runs amok, stumbling across intuitions that can only half-heartedly be called philosophical. Spite lacks the confidence and the clarity of hatred, but it also lacks the almost cordial judgment of dislike. For the pessimist, the smallest detail can be an indication of a metaphysical futility so vast and funereal that it eclipses pessimism itself—a spite that pessimism carefully places beyond the horizon of intelligibility, like the experience of dusk, or like the phrase, “it is raining jewels and daggers.” ~*~ Song of Sleep. A paraphrase of Schopenhauer: what death is for the organism, sleep is for the individual. Pessimists sleep not because they are depressed, but because for them sleep is a form of ascetic practice. Sleep is the askesis of pessimism. If, while sleeping, we have a bad dream, we abruptly wake up, and suddenly the horrors of the night vanish. There is no reason to think that the same does not happen with the bad dream we call “life.” ~*~ Song of Sorrow. Nietzsche, commenting on pessimism, once castigated Schopenhauer for taking things too lightly. He writes: ...Schopenhauer, though a pessimist, really —played the flute. Every day, after dinner: one should read his biography on that. And incidentally: a pessimist, one who denies God and the world but comes to a stop before morality—who affirms morality and plays the flute... what? Is that really—a pessimist? We know that Schopenhauer did possess a collection of instruments, and we also know that Nietzsche himself composed music. There is no reason to think that either of them would ever banish music from the Republic of philosophy. But Nietzsche’s jibes at Schopenhauer are as much about music as they are about pessimism. For the pessimist who says no to everything and yet finds comfort in music, the no-saying of pessimism can only be a weak way of saying yes—the weightiest statement undercut by the flightiest of replies. The least that Schopenhauer could’ve done is to play the bass. I’m not a big fan of the flute, or, for that matter, wind instruments generally. But what Nietzsche forgets is the role that the flute has historically played in Greek tragedy. In tragedy, the flute ( aulos ) is not an instrument of levity and joy, but of solitude and sorrow. The Greek aulos not only expresses the grief of tragic loss, but it does so in a way that renders weeping and singing inseparable from each other. The classicist Nicole Loraux calls this the mourning voice . Set apart from the more official civic rituals of funerary mourning, the mourning voice of Greek tragedy constantly threatens to dissolve song into wailing, music into moaning, and the voice into a primordial, disarticulate anti-music. The mourning voice delineates all the forms of suffering—tears, weeping, sobbing, wailing, moaning, and the convulsions of thought reduced to an elemental unintelligibility. In the collapsed space between the voice that speaks and the voice that sings, pessimism discovers its mourning voice. Pessimism: the failure of sound and sense, the disarticulation of phone and logos . Have we rescued Schopenhauer from Nietzsche? Probably not. Perhaps Schopenhauer played the flute to remind himself of the real function of the mourning voice—sorrow, sighs, and moaning rendered indistinguishable from music, the crumbling of the human into the unhuman. Failure par excellence of pessimism. ~*~ Song of Nothing. In Buddhist thought, the First Noble Truth of existence is encapsulated in the Pali term dukkha , conventionally translated as “suffering,” “sorrow,” or “misery.” The Buddhist teachings are clear, however, that this is an objective claim, and not simply one point of view among others. Existence is suffering and sorrow—and yet this is not, the teachings tell us, a pessimistic attitude. It is likely that Schopenhauer, reading the Buddhist texts available to him, recognized some filiation with the concept of dukkha . But dukkha is a multi-faceted term. There is, certainly, dukkha in the usual sense of the suffering, strife, and loss associated with living a life. But this is, in turn, dependent on the finitude and temporality of dukkha , existence as determined by impermanence and imperfection. And this ultimately points to the way in which both suffering and finitude are grounded by the paradoxical groundlessness of dukkha as a metaphysical principle—the insubstantiality and the emptiness of all that is. Beyond what is worse to me, beyond a world ordered for the worst, there is the emptiness of dukkha as an impersonal suffering... the tears of the cosmos. In this context, it is easy to see how Schopenhauer’s pessimism attempts to compress all the aspects of dukkha into a nothingness at the core of existence, a Willlessness coursing through the Will. Though one thing for certain is that with Schopenhauer we do not find the “ever-smiling” countenance of Buddhism—or do we? The texts of the Pali Canon also contain lists of the different types of happiness—including the happiness of renunciation and the strange happiness of detachment. But Buddhism considers even the different types of happiness as part of dukkha , in this final sense of nothingness or emptiness. Perhaps Schopenhauer understood Buddhism better than he is usually given credit for. Thus the experiment of Schopenhauer’s philosophy—the point at which a Western pessimus and an Eastern dukkha overlap or exchange glances. Empty sorrow, a lyricism of indifference. The result is a strange, and ultimately untenable, nocturnal form of Buddhism. ~*~ Cioran once called music a “physics of tears.” If this is true, then perhaps metaphysics is its commentary. Or its apology. ~*~ Pessimism would be more mystical were it not for its defeatism. Mysticism is much too proactive for the pessimist, and pessimism too impassive even for the mystic. At the same time, there is something enviable about mysticism—despite its sufferings. There is a sense in which pessimists are really failed mystics. ~*~ You, the Night, and the Music. In a suggestive passage, Schopenhauer once noted that, “music is the melody to which the world is the text." Given Schopenhauer’s view on life—that life is suffering, that human life is absurd, that the nothingness before my birth is equal to the nothingness after my death—given all this, one wonders what kind of music Schopenhauer had in mind when he described music as the melody to which the world is text—was it opera, a Requiem Mass, a madrigal, or perhaps a drinking song? Or something like Eine kleine Nachtmusik , a little night music for the twilight of thought, a sullen nocturne for the night-side of logic, an era of sad wings sung by a solitary banshee. Perhaps the music Schopenhauer had in mind is music eliminated to non-music. A whisper would suffice. Perhaps a sigh of fatigue or resignation, perhaps a moan of despair or sorrow. Perhaps a sound just articulate enough that it could be heard to dissipate. ~*~ Teach me to laugh through tears. ~*~ Pessimism always falls short of being philosophical. My back aches, my knees hurt, I couldn’t sleep last night, I’m stressed-out, and I think I’m finally coming down with something. Pessimism abjures all pretenses towards system—towards the purity of analysis and the dignity of critique. We didn’t really think we could figure it out, did we? It was just passing time, taking a piss, something to do, a bold gesture put forth in all its fragility, according to rules that we have agreed to forget that we made up in the first place. Every thought marked by a shadowy incomprehension that precedes it, and a futility that undermines it. That pessimism speaks, in whatever voice, is the singing testimony to this futility and this incomprehension—take a chance and step outside, lose some sleep and say you tried... ~*~ Is there a music of pessimism? And would such a music be audible? ~*~ The impact of music on a person compels them to put their experience into words. When this fails, the result is a faltering of thought and language that is itself a kind of music. Cioran writes: “Music is everything. God himself is nothing more than an acoustic hallucination.” ~*~ If a thinker like Schopenhauer has any redeeming qualities, it is that he identified the great lie of Western culture—the preference for existence over non-existence. As he notes: “If we knocked on the graves and asked the dead whether they would like to rise again, they would shake their heads.” In Western cultures it is commonly accepted that one celebrates birth and mourns death. But there must be a mistake here. Wouldn’t it make more sense to mourn birth and celebrate death? Strange though, because the mourning of birth would, presumably, last the entirety of that person’s life, so that mourning and living would the be same thing. ~*~ To the musical idea of the harmony of the universe corresponds the philosophical principle of sufficient reason. Like the music of mourning, pessimism gives voice to the inevitable breakdown of word and song. In this way, music is the overtone of thought. ~*~ The Patron Saints of Pessimism. The patron saints of pessimism watch over suffering. Laconic and sullen, the patron saints of pessimism never seem to do a good job at protecting, interceding, or advocating for those who suffer. Perhaps they need us more than we need them. Lest we forget, there do exist patron saints of philosophy, but their stories are not happy ones. There is, for instance, the fourth century Saint Catherine of Alexandria, or Catherine of the Wheel, named after the torture device used on her. A precocious fourteen year old scholar, Catherine was subject to continual persecution. After all forms of torture failed—including the “breaking wheel”—the emperor finally settled for her decapitation, a violent yet appropriate reminder of the protector of philosophers. There are also patron saints of music and musicians, but theirs too are sad stories. In the second century, Saint Cecilia was also subject to persecution and torture. As she knelt to receive the blade that would separate her head from her body, she ardently sang a song to God. It took three attempts before she was fully decapitated, all the while she continued, perhaps miraculously, to sing. Does pessimism not deserve its own patron saints, even if they are unworthy of martyrdom? But in our search, even the most ardent nay-sayers frequently lapse into brief moments of enthusiasm—Pascal’s love of solitude, Leopardi’s love of poetry, Schopenhauer’s love of music, Nietzsche’s love of Schopenhauer, and so on. Should one then focus on individual works of pessimism? We could include Kierkegaard’s trilogy of horror— Sickness Unto Death , The Concept of Dread , and Fear and Trembling —but all these are undermined by their fabricated and unreliable authors. Besides, how can one separate the pessimist from the optimist in works like Unamuno’s The Tragic Sense of Life , Shestov’s Postetas Clavium , or Edgar Saltus’ under-read The Philosophy of Disenchantment ? Even in cases where the entire corpus of an author is pessimistic, the project always seems incomplete—witness Cioran’s trajectory, from his first book, On the Heights of Despair , to the last unpublished notebooks of acrid and taut aphorisms. And this is to say nothing of literary pessimism, from Goethe’s sorrowful Werther, to Dostoevsky’s underground man, to Pessoa’s disquiet scribbler; Baudelaire’s spleen and ennui, the mystical Satanism of Huysmans and Strindberg, the hauntologies of Mário de Sá-Carniero, Izumi Kyoka, H.P. Lovecraft, grumpy old Beckett... even the great pessimist comedians. All that remains are singular, perhaps anomalous statements of pessimism, a litany of quotes and citations crammed into fortune cookies. Patron saints are traditionally named after a locale, either a place of birth or of a mystical experience. Perhaps the better approach is to focus on the places where pessimists were forced to live out their pessimism—Schopenhauer facing an empty Berlin lecture hall, Nietzsche mute and convalescent at the home of his sister, Wittgenstein the relinquished professor and solitary gardener, Cioran grappling with Alzheimer’s in his tiny writing alcove in the Latin Quarter. ~*~ There’s a ghost that grows inside of me, damaged in the making, and there’s a hunt sprung from necessity, elliptical and drowned. Where the moving quiet of our insomnia offers up each thought, there’s a luminous field of grey inertia, and obsidian dreams burnt all the way down. ~*~ If pessimism has any pedagogical value, it is that the failure of pessimism as a philosophy is inextricably tied to the failure of pessimism as voice. I read the following, from Shestov’s The Apotheosis of Groundlessness : When a person is young he writes because it seems to him he has discovered a new almighty truth which he must make haste to impart to forlorn humankind. Later, becoming more modest, he begins to doubt his truths: and then he tries to convince himself. A few more years go by, and he knows he was mistaken all round, so there is no need to convince himself. Nevertheless he continues to write, because he is not fit for any other work, and to be accounted a superfluous person is so horrible. (shrink)

: Watsuji Tetsurō defined ethics as being generated by a double negation: the individual's negation of the community and the self-negation of the individual who returns to the community. Thus, ethics for him is based on the individual's sacrifice for the collectivity. This position results in the conception of the community as an absolute. I contend that there is a congruence between Watsuji's conception of ethics as self-sacrifice and the way he perceived the Japanese political system. To him, the (...) imperial system in Japan is based on the organic unity of the Japanese people, represented by the emperor, who embodies the general will of, and is therefore coterminous with, the Japanese nation. (shrink)

There is no arguing the impact of Inoue Tetsujirō on the development of philosophy in Japan from the Meiji Restoration through the end of the Pacific War. He was the first Japanese to receive a doctorate in philosophy from Germany and the first native-born chair of the philosophy department at Tokyo Imperial University, the training center for almost all the major Japanese philosophers who graduated before 1915. Inoue was instrumental in making German idealism the Western philosophy of choice for Japan, (...) but he also appreciated Asian traditions as well, having no qualms about claiming there was true philosophy in India, China, and premodern Japan. He set the foundation for academic philosophy in Japan not so much through his own rather simplistic personal philosophy, but especially through his contributions to the organization of the field. This article focuses mainly on Inoue’s troubled relation with Confucianism. On one hand, in seeking a premodern philosophy to serve as the bedrock for modern Japan, Inoue looked to the Edo-period Confucian traditions originating in China. He divided them into Shushigaku, Yōmeigaku, and what he named Kogaku, the school focusing on classical texts preceding neo-Confucian developments and interpretations. In many respects, like so many others of his generation, Inoue was by training and personal preference a Confucian. That is not the whole story, however. Inoue understood Confucianism’s primary purpose as cultivating the social values and order that would ensure an efficient society of human flourishing, stability, and harmony. Yet, he also likely suspected that the people of the new Japan, with its modernization and plethora of Western ideas, would not unquestioningly accept the authority of the Confucian classics, nor be willing to undertake the rigors of textual study that are the hallmark of the Confucian scholar. In Edo-period Japan, that study had been the responsibility of the samurai class, but in their democratization program, the Meiji reformers had abolished the old class system. Education of the young would now shift from the Confucian academies to the new public school system. Always cooperative with the government to the point of being obsequious, Inoue took a leading role in the National Morality program and its installment in the nationwide school curriculum. That curriculum combined a Shinto-based reverence for the sacred nature of the emperor in the kokutai ideology along with practical moralistic values that could be loosely called Confucian. Yet, if schooling for most was limited to the elementary level and if there was no longer a samurai class to oversee the moral behavior of the society, who could nurture and enforce the moral order? Through a set of fortuitous events, Inoue “discovered” bushidō, the Way of the warrior. If there were no longer a samurai warrior class, perhaps all Japanese could become de facto samurai—at least in their mindset. Most may no longer have the scholarly skills and time to glean their spiritual and moral insights from Confucian texts. Yet, they could find the virtues of loyalty, sincerity, filiality, and compliance with seniority within the distinctively mindful heart and spirit of ancient Japan carried within the Japanese bloodline. What happened to the Confucianism of Inoue Tetsujirō? Some of its values were absorbed into bushidō and National Morality, but the praxis of the Confucian scholar and the ideal of the kunshi seem to have been lost, much to Japan’s detriment. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Capitalism as Religion and Religious Pluralism:An Approach from Liberation TheologyJung Mo Sungreligious pluralism and the struggle of the godsReligious pluralism as a social fact, namely, the coexistence of different religions within a social system, be it a country or an empire, is not anything new. The mere contact with other people and their various religions, for example, through commerce, still does not indicate religious pluralism. In this case, (...) each group of people has its religion and its gods, and recognizes that other groups of people exist with other religions and other gods. Religious pluralism occurs when, because of immigration or the conquest of one people over another, groups of people with different religions live together in the same social space.Whether by immigration or by conquest, the resulting religious pluralism does not occur in an egalitarian or harmonious manner. Immigrants are forced to live out their religion within their group as a marginal religion in society, or even in hiding when it is not accepted in the society where they went to seek a livelihood. In the case of conquest or expansion of empires, the conquering power imposes its cultural values and religion on the conquered peoples. The empire can try to extinguish the religions of conquered peoples and impose their own as if it is the only one acceptable, or tolerate them as long as these religions do not question the imperial order. This means that the coexistence of different religions within the empire takes place in a hierarchical relationship: The religion of the empire is the ultimate and the others are tolerated provided they accept their place as subordinate. The Roman Empire was an example of an empire that tolerated the religions of subject peoples as long as they didn’t question the absolute power of the empire, with its own empire religion and emperor worship.In this historical context, it is empirically impossible to live out a third way: recognizing the otherness of the other and respecting their religion as we respect our [End Page 155] own. That’s because the “encounter” between religions takes place in a situation of colonial conquest and domination. Expecting that there could be a relationship of respect and dialogue among equals would ignore the role of religion in premodern societies, especially in the processes of domination.In these societies, religion has the function of being the foundation of the world-view that legitimized the existing social order, as well as the process of external conquest. Religion fulfills the function of legitimizing and justifying the conquest and consequent exploitation and oppression of the conquered people. Therefore, religion performs a key task for systems of oppression, the reversal of evil into good: conquest as peace; exploitation as the path to salvation or integration into civilization. Furthermore, religion transcendentalizes the imperial system of oppression and presents it as eternal or as an expression of divine will. Therefore, how to classify religions and manage their coexistence is not just a problem for religious leaders, but also a matter of the state, a matter of interest for the king or emperor. The limits of religious tolerance are determined by the interests of the dominant social system, even when they are often discussed in religious or theological language.Of course, no religion, even those that perform the function of legitimizing an empire, is totally homogeneous. Within a religion, there is or can be a certain “theological pluralism.” The figure of Las Casas in the Spanish conquest of America is an example of the contradictions that are in all religions. But the defense of the Indians and their religion that was made by Las Casas had to be made in the court of the king of Spain. The means of evangelization and the ways of seeing the culture and religion of the Indians (i.e., the other) is a problem of the state, and not just the Church.Before thinking about the ideal of a religious pluralism that makes possible “a fraternal living together of religions as also a covenant of all those in favor of Peace and the Common Good of Humanity and the Planet,”1 we must also remember that the Bible... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Philosophy and Literature 27.1 (2003) 80-97 [Access article in PDF] Literary Truth as Dreamlike Expression in Foucault's and Borges's "Chinese Encyclopedia" Robert Wicks ALTHOUGH THE TOPIC REMAINS MOSTLY unexplored, Michel Foucault had an aesthetic and intellectual attraction towards writers and artists in the Spanish-speaking tradition. For example, at the conclusion of his Histoire de la folie (Madness and Civilization, 1961)—a book which brought him extensive intellectual recognition in France—Foucault (...) drew his readers' attention to José de Goya y Lucientes's (1746-1828) well-known etching, El Sueño de la Razón Produce Monstruos (The Sleep of Reason Brings Forth Monsters, Plate 43 of Los Caprichos, 1797). In Foucault's estimation, by revealing a "night which is doubtless that of classical unreason," Goya's work represented a socially removed condition within which people encounter "what is most solitary" and experience what is "deepest" within themselves. With his reference to Goya's imagery, Foucault illustrated a major theme of his history of madness, namely, how people referred to as "mentally ill" experienced a gradual, physical exclusion from participation in public society, and how they were eventually isolated in a more frightening way: within their physical confinement, they were subject to techniques of psychological and spiritual alienation that reduced them to a condition of utter solitude.In a comparable, if not more central manner, Foucault used as thematic motifs for the preface, first and second chapters of a book for which he is widely known, Les Mots et les choses (The Order of Things, 1966), the work of three major writers and artists from the Spanish-speaking world: Jorges Luis Borges (1899-1986), Diego Velázquez (1599-1660), and Miguel de Cervantes (1547-1616). Among these references, the most popular is probably Foucault's discussion of [End Page 80] Velázquez's Las Meninas—a painting which captured Foucault's interest as a perfect exemplar of its time period—and which inspired him to devote the entire first chapter of his book to decoding the mechanics of its perspectival arrangement. And within the community of those who read, write and discuss the interrelationship between Foucault's thought, literary theory and the contemporary emphasis upon the multivocal quality of textual meaning, Foucault's citation of an excerpt from a short story by Borges—the subject of this essay—is also familiar. Foucault introduced his 1966 book, The Order of Things, with the following words: This book first arose out of a passage in Borges, out of the laughter that shattered, as I read the passage, all the familiar landmarks of my thought—our thought, the thought that bears the stamp of our age and our geography—breaking up all the ordered surfaces and all the planes with which we are accustomed to tame the wild profusion of existing things, and continuing long afterwards to disturb and threaten with collapse our age-old distinction between the Same and the Other. This passage quotes a "certain Chinese encyclopedia" in which it is written that "animals are divided into: (a) belonging to the Emperor, (b) embalmed, (c) tame, (d) suckling pigs, (e) sirens, (f) fabulous, (g) stray dogs, (h) included in the present classification, (i) frenzied, (j) innumerable, (k) drawn with a very fine camelhair brush, (l) et cetera, (m) having just broken the water pitcher, (n) that from a long way off look like flies." In the wonderment of this taxonomy, the thing we apprehend in one great leap, the thing that, by means of the fable, is demonstrated as the exotic charm of another system of thought, is the limitation of our own, the stark impossibility of thinking that. 1The short story from which Foucault extracted the above, quasi-cubistic, excerpt was published in Borges's 1952 collection, Otras Inquisiciones (Other Inquisitions), and is entitled, "The Analytical Language of John Wilkins." Although this story's entirety is rarely surveyed in discussions of Foucault, appreciating its broader contents helps illuminate why Foucault began The Order of Things with this entertaining and bizarre segment. Borges's original... (shrink)

The political and administrative requirements of the Roman state during the early years of the Principate demanded an increase in the annual number of consulars. When Augustus finally acted to remedy this situation in 5 b.c., he introduced a system of suffect consuls and thereby increased the number of consuls from the two per annum of the Republic to four. A regular practice became established whereby one or both of the ordinary consuls retired at the end of June to (...) be replaced in office for theremainder of the year by a suffect consul. For the reigns of Gaius and Claudius additional suffects were included in many years and a new pattern can be seen to have emerged. It was usual now for each ordinarius to hold office for the first six months of the year except in some special cases where the ordinarii resigned at the end of two months and their place was taken by a pair of suffects who remained in office for the next four months to serve out the more regular tenure of the ordinary consuls. Under Nero, the innovation of this two-month ordinary consulship was not perpetuated and ordinarii usually remained in office for the full six months. Suffect consulships throughout the period a.d. 38–68 were held for periods of either two, four or six months. The Civil War of a.d. 68/69 and the consequent changes of emperor broke the above pattern. For 69, there are no fewer than sixteen consuls known to have held office during the year. Such confusion, however, would not be unexpected given the startling events of this year. Of considerable importance to students of the early Empire, therefore, is the question of what happened to the system of allocating consulships during a particular year when the state had once again settled itself down to running in routine under the victorious Flavian emperors. The answer to this question will be of particular importance for prosopographers of the early Empire for whom chronology is the backbone of their investigations, since the fasti for the reigns of Vespasian and Titus are notable for the number of years in which the complete list of consuls is lacking. (shrink)

Following the precedent of Justinian, First Consul and then Emperor Napoleon proposed to enhance his military achievements with a legal Code based on the riches of Roman law and a system of legal education designed to perpetuate it. Like Justinian, Napoleon prohibited 'interpretation' of his creation on the grounds that this would contravene imperial will -- as opposed to the countervailing principle of popular sovereignty. Yet in neither case could the prince stop history, for in the effort to (...) adapt the code to changing conditions of society later jurists promoted just such subversive violations. (shrink)

The adoption of Antoninus Pius provided Cassius Dio with the opportunity to insert into his narrative a speech delivered by Hadrian justifying the selection of his successor (69.20.1–5). This article examines the content of the speech and its relationship to Dio’s own thoughts on the mechanics of imperial succession expressed elsewhere in the Roman History. It is argued that the speech articulates Dio’s ideal mode of succession, which sees the promotion of a model civilis princeps, while subtly drawing attention to (...) the problems inherent in a system where an emperor chooses his successor. Furthermore, it is suggested that these views may be read as Dio’s hostile reaction to the practices of his own day. (shrink)

The Treatise on Golden Lion is one of the most familiar and the most popular treatises in Chinese Mahayana Buddhism. Fazang, who made a system out of the classical form of learning in the Chinese school called „Flower wreath“ (Huayan), allegedly wrote this short work as a description of a real event – he explained his doctrine in the emperor's palace using a golden sculpture of a lion. He explains the fundamental implications of the doctrine oh his school (...) – the doctrine of the absolute interwovenness and absolute mutual inclusiveness of all things. These, as in all schools of Mahayana Buddhism, are based on the theory of the emptiness of all things and the world. These implications, valid in all phenomenal world (there is nothing but the phenomena, beyond the phenomena there is nothing) are explained also by means of the specification of the relationship between the principle (the gold) and the phenomena (the lion). (shrink)

The most famous medieval controversy over the power and the temporal dominion took place between the papacy and the empire. One of the greatest advocates of the imperial domination was Marsilius of Padua, the author of an original work that demonstrated the advantage of acknowledging the emperor’s superiority over the Pope’s. The Defensor pacis, written between 1319 and 1324, was devoted to the dispute on such sovereignty issues as proving that the Pope should be subordinate to the Emperor, (...) and not vice versa. The Defensor pacis takes issue with numerous arguments and views uttered by the papal camp and uses the appropriate quotations from the Bible and Aristotle to show their weakness and inconsistency. The work comprises three parts. The first part is a description of the ideal system, i.e., an elective monarchy, with the specified role of a ruler and a clear indication of the sovereignty of the people. The second and third parts present a challenge to the arguments of the papal camp and analyze the general situation of the Church, suggesting the necessary reforms. Thus, the whole work becomes a compendium of knowledge on appropriate governance. (shrink)

: A series of imperial decrees of the 1820s ordering the establishment of a Greco-Uniate Theological Collegium and appropriate consistories contributed to the spread of the autocratic synodal system of government and the establishment of control over Greek Uniate church institutions in the annexed territories of Right-Bank Ukraine. As a result, the Greco-Uniate Church was put on hold in favor of the government's favorable grounds for the rapid localization of its activities. Basilian accusations of supporting the Polish November Uprising (...) of 1830-1831 made it possible to liquidate the OSBM and most monasteries. The transfer of the Pochaiv Monastery to the ownership of the Orthodox clergy in 1831 was a milestone in the liquidation of the Greco-Uniate Church and the establishment of a Russian-style Orthodox mono-confessionalism. On the basis of archival documents, the political motivation of the emperor's decree to confiscate the Pochayiv Monastery from the Basilians with all its property and capital was confirmed. The transfer to the category of monasteries of the 1st class and the granting of the status of a lavra indicated its special role in strengthening the position of the autocracy in the western region of the Russian Empire. The orders of the Holy Synod outline the key tasks of ensuring the viability of the Lavra as an Orthodox religious center: the introduction of continuous worship, strengthening the personal composition of the population, delimitation of spiritual responsibilities, clarifying the affiliation of the printing house. However, maintaining the rhythm of worship and financial and economic activities established by the Basilians proved to be a difficult task, the solution of which required ten years of hard work. In order to make quick changes in the monastery, decisions were made by the emperor and senior government officials, and government agencies were involved at the local level, which required the coordination of actions of all parties to the process. (shrink)

A provocative, insightful explanation for why it is that belief—not religion—keeps us in a perilous state of willful ignorance In The Religious Case Against Belief , James Carse identifies the twenty-first century’s most forbidding villain: belief. In distinguishing religions from belief systems, Carse works to reveal how belief—with its restriction on thought and encouragement of hostility—has corrupted religion and spawned violence the world over. Galileo, Martin Luther, Abraham Lincoln, and Jesus Christ—using their stories Carse creates his own brand of parable (...) and establishes a new vocabulary with which to study conflict in the modern world. The Religious Case Against Belief introduces three kinds of ignorance: ordinary ignorance (a mundane lack of knowledge, such as ignorance of tomorrow’s weather or the reason why your stove is malfunctioning), willful ignorance (an intentional avoidance of accessible knowledge), and finally higher ignorance (a learned understanding that no matter how many truths we may accumulate, our knowledge falls infinitely short of the truth). While ordinary ignorance is common to all people, Carse associates the strongest manifestation of willful ignorance with the most fervent (and dangerous) of believers. He points to the historic conflict between Martin Luther and Holy Roman Emperor Charles V both to reveal this seemingly religious collision as a clash of belief and to identify belief ’s inherently destructive characteristics. From Luther to the contemporary Christian right, we learn that believers construct identity by erecting boundaries and by fostering aggression between the believer and the other. This is why belief systems choose—at great cost—to remain locked in bloody conflict rather than to engage in dialogue, recognizing the great deal they have in common. This is willful ignorance. In fierce contrast to willful ignorance, higher ignorance is an acquired state enhanced by religion. Those traveling the path to higher ignorance recognize faith teachings (such as the Bible) as poetry intended to promote contemplation, interpretation, and a sense of wonder. For evidence of religion’s deeply embedded rejection of singular truth and its acceptance of diverse dialogue, Carse looks to the many faces of Jesus presented in the books of the Bible and elsewhere. Uncontaminated by belief systems, religion rejects the imagined boundaries that falsely divide people and ideas, working to expand horizons. The Religious Case Against Belief exposes a world in which religion and belief have become erroneously (and terrifyingly) conflated. In strengthening their association with powerful belief systems, religions have departed from their essential purpose as agencies of higher ignorance. Carse uses his wideranging understanding of religion to find a viable and vital path away from what he calls the Age of Faith II and toward open-ended global dialogue. Far from abstract philosophical musing, The Religious Case Against Belief is required reading for our age. (shrink)

Ezra Pound's Canto 18 begins with Kublai Khan, the first emperor of the Yuan Dynasty, who undertook and indeed had the power to complete the coining of money, that is, the establishment of a new currency system.1 Despite the use of the word "coin," the reason that Pound pays attention to such a historical figure as Kublai is that he was among the first to issue "paper" money; "They take bast of the mulberry-tree, / That is a skin (...) between the wood and the bark, / And of this they make paper". Apart from the physical production and printing of paper, however, the basic and more essential prerequisite for the issue of paper money—and for its successful circulation and distribution—is to make paper money... (shrink)

This article aims to analyze the philosophical and religious message of Julian’s Hymn to King Helios. The emperor, using Iamblichean structures, shows how the First Cause, the Neoplatonic One, can interact with the layers or gradation below it, including the physical world ; his starting point is an original ‘pluralizing’ interpretation of the Sun analogy contained in Resp. VI 509b.However, Julian’s hymn has a political meaning, too ; it can be considered as a sort of manifesto of Julian’s imperial (...) ideology. The parallel between the emperor and the sun – already present in the ancient rhetorical tradition – is reworked by the Apostate and is part of a complex metaphysical‑cosmological system, grounded on the principles of similarity and middleness. These concepts were subject to controversy between nicene and heterodox christians in the IV century. It is possible that these controversies were largely known by Julian and that he has consciously recalled them in his panegyric to Helios intellective, mediator and saviour. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Gender, Domesticity, and the Age of Augustus: Inventing Private LifeDavid FredrickKristina Milnor. Gender, Domesticity, and the Age of Augustus: Inventing Private Life. Oxford Studies in Classical Literature and Gender Theory. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. xii + 360 pp. Cloth, $99.It is the often-difficult task of social history to explain how a given institution (e.g., marriage, education, the army) changed across different types of cultural expression (e.g., legal (...) and moral prescriptions, representation in visual art and literature) and in lived experience. In this fruitful and sometimes brilliant study, Kristina Milnor explores the repositioning of women during the Augustan period with respect to the distinction between public and private life. Over the course of an introduction, five chapters, and an epilogue, she develops the argument that the Augustan period "invented" private life or, more precisely, new strategies for representing private life, in order to make the imperial system look like a return to traditional Roman family values. In making this argument, Milnor looks back to the Republic and forward to Nero; she assembles a wide range of literary and material evidence and makes judicious use of theory. Milnor is primarily concerned with textual representation; as she puts it at one point, the volume is "a study of representation rather than reality" (40–41). However, she does include substantial sections on architecture and space, and in the end it is not clear whether Milnor sees architecture in the Augustan period as a mode of representation or as something that by reshaping behavior necessarily transformed private life in lived experience.The introduction uses Vergil's simile of the housewife spinning in Aeneid 8 to set up the much-debated distinction between "public" and "private" in Roman culture. Milnor notes that the original meaning of privatus during the republic is narrowly oppositional, "a man without a political or military position," but broadened during the empire to mean more generally, "anyone... who did not hold the ultimate 'public' role of emperor" (20). Hence privatus and "domestic" do not mean the same thing: "privatus is necessarily a political word," while "the domestic... functions as a kind of moralized privacy, a concept whose strength lies in its allegiance to supposedly transcendent and apolitical ethical truths" (27). Women emerge during the Augustan period as the preferred symbols of this "moralized privacy," and while the physical and social circumstances of Roman women were highly disparate, the representation of female virtues remains consistent: "the domestic ideal was a construct which did not 'truthfully' represent any woman's life, even at the same time as it purported to represent them all" (38).In the first chapter ("Reading and Writing Gender on the Augustan Palatine"), Milnor argues that Augustus' Palatine complex is "engendered" by the prominence of Niobe, Cleopatra, and the Danaids in its decorative program, pointing to the problematic display of female virtue in the princeps' house. Because of Augustus' unprecedented political position, the "private" behavior of the women in his house became a kind of public performance, a tension that persists in Augustus' larger treatment of the city. In Tristia 2, Ovid addresses Augustus as a fellow author whose "text" is the city of Rome, and just as women [End Page 605] have misread Ovid's poetry licentiously, they frequently appropriate Rome's temples and porticoes for sexual liaisons. Milnor observes that this disingenuous argument at least recognizes women as active and resisting readers of texts, noting further that imperial women (Octavia and Livia) are paradoxically empowered as "authors" of significant public spaces precisely because they were seen to be expressing politically disinterested virtues. The chapter concludes with a look back at Cicero's de Domo Sua, which casts Clodius as a feminized abuser of public space in his appropriation of the Portico of Catulus for his shrine of Libertas; the restoration of Cicero's house, meanwhile, represents the restoration of the Roman state. Milnor argues that this anticipates Augustus' use of his own house as a symbol for Rome, and thus as the site for a paradoxically public performance of the traditions of Roman domesticity.The second chapter, "Domesticity and Display in Vitruvius' de Architectura," begins with two significant questions. Why, if... (shrink)

This study attempts to explore the possible motivations, both obvious and problematic, behind the ritual suicide (seppuku) committed by the Japanese writer in the name of the Emperor at the Eastern Headquarters of Japan’s Self-Defense Forces in 1970. History does not seem to be a coherent or intelligible process, as man’s struggle for nourishment is most often replaced by thymos, the desire for others to recognize his value or the value system of the ideals or noble purposes he (...) is ready to sacrifice for, ignoring the basic instinct of self-conservation. Yukio Mishima was extremely pessimistic about pragmatic and materialistic contemporary Japan. History brought along increasing consumerism, thus disturbing the harmony of traditional Japanese spirituality. The technological ability to improve human existence seemed to alter inevitably the moral evolution of contemporary Japanese. Against this background of ruling “costs” and “benefits”, the Japanese writer seems to believe that it is only the thymotic man, the “man of anger”, who can fight for the recognition and salvation of the Japanese soul (yamato damashii). Believed for centuries to be the true art of dying, Yukio Mishima’s seppuku turned from a “beautiful” gesture into one of protest and accusation: the Japanese society had begun the transition from a closed society to an open one, governed by anxiety, in which individuals faced personal decisions. (shrink)

Scholars have long debated the nature of the Roman frontier. From linear defense systems designed to hold back barbarian tides to arteries of communication and exchange, rivers have been at the forefront of this discussion. This paper focuses on the Lower Danube frontier and argues that Rome’s most enduring enemy in the Balkans was not a barbarian tribe, but the river itself. The Danube frequently froze in wintertime facilitating the passage of massive raiding parties. Indeed, the most devastating attacks recorded (...) by ancient observers took place during the dead of winter, when the ice on the Danube was hard enough to allow the crossing of large number of horsemen. These attacks set in motion events and long-term processes that forever changed the cultural fabric of the region. Unable to contain the threat, early Roman emperors led campaigns north of the Danube and ultimately conquered Dacia, which allowed them to control both sides of the river. In Late Antiquity, Constantine and Justinian dramatically altered the cultural landscape with their massive programs of fortification designed to finally secure the Balkan provinces. Centuries after the fall of Rome, Byzantine emperors still relied on a combination of brute force, consolidation and diplomacy in order to prevent winter attacks. In the end, all attempts at devising a permanent solution failed and the frozen Danube remained a barbarian ally slowly eroding the empire’s control in the Balkans. (shrink)

We are ruled by judges whom we know, we enjoy the benefits | Of peace and war, as if the warrior Quirinus, | As if peaceful Numa were governing.With these words the poet Claudian lauds the Emperor Honorius on the occasion of his fourth consulship in 398 by comparing him to Rome's deified founder, Romulus-Quirinus, and to Numa Pompilius, its second king, who was proverbial for wisdom and piety. Claudian's panegyric stands in a long literary tradition in which the (...) legendary Roman kings were depicted as models of statesmanship. This exemplary tradition left its mark on a broad array of late antique works, including historical compendia such as the pseudo-AurelianDe uiris illustribus, which narrates the kings’ deeds as soldiers and statesmen, and the writings of antiquarians such as Macrobius and Servius, who collected information on the kings’ invention of cults and calendars. Servius’ interest in the kings implies that they featured in the teaching provided by other late antiquegrammaticias well, and thus that most literate Latin-speakers would have had some knowledge of their deeds. Advanced education in rhetoric likewise drew on Virgil and other school texts for historicalexemplaincluding Romulus and Numa, who appear in panegyrics and in brief histories, such as Eutropius’Breviary, that probably served as reference texts for the political elite. The kings thus loomed large in Roman perceptions of the founding of their empire, which began with the heroic Romulus, was strengthened by Numa's establishment of the Roman cultic system, and was secured by the later kings’ political and military successes. (shrink)

Editor’sThis essay draws on the suburban sacrifice ritual to explicate in detail how Confucianism became the state religion by reforming the ritual system as a justification of the political system holding the Emperor as the central and highest authority.

The Bhagavadgītā is often considered the holiest text of Hinduism. It was commented by a legion of commentators, and a number of philologists, starting with Wilhelm von Humboldt, tried to establish the layers of its text, which shows traces of several redactions. Some scholars noticed some seams in the text correctly, and some came close to a general picture of the text history. On the other hand, many scholars were discouraged by the uncertainties in the investigation of the text history (...) and preferred to interpret the Gītā as an indivisible whole. However, between the 1970s and 2009, it was possible to come to very precise results concerning the textual layers of the Bhagavadgītā, which were internationally largely accepted since ca. 2000. These results imply that, over time, views of several philosophical systems were incorporated into the poem, as well as polemics with different doctrines. The teachings and exhortations conveyed by the poem are very synthetic and innovative because they are derived from a very complex set of premises. These results of text analyses have been, on the one hand, accepted by a number of prominent scholars worldwide, but, on the other hand, fiercely contested by some Western post-modernist scholars of religion and by some scholars of Indian origin sensibilised negatively against Western scholarship. What they lack in their reading of the Bhagavadgītā can best be made clear by means of the comparison with a visitor to an artistic monument of a religious character, which underwent centuries of modifications, like the Split cathedral. If such a visitor considered that the sanctity and artistic credibility of a monument depended on its being completely constructed at one stroke by a single architect with a single conception, he would miss the complex, sometimes even polemical, rich and impressive way in which such a monument conveys its messages. This is the fruit of the long and complex history of the Split cathedral, that was first built as the mausoleum of a Roman emperor, and later turned into the church consecrated to his victims, passing thereafter through many subsequent modifications and ‘reinterpretations’. In the history of art, such prejudices are not as common as they are in the study of sacred texts. That is why a suitable example of a monument having religious character, like the Split cathedral of the Assumption of Virgin Mary, also consecrated to Diocletian’s victims Domnius and Anastasius, can best illustrate how we should understand a literary monument of a religious and philosophical character, like the Bhagavadgītā, which underwent a comparably complex history. (shrink)

Roman Law is an important legal systematic that contains important codings of world law history. This legal system not only affected Continental Europe, but also the Near East, which was a period under its domination. Especially in the Justinian period, the law collection that emerged as a result of the legal studies starting from the East Roman capital is considered as a monumental work by many historians and jurists. Researchers who praise Corpus Juris Civilis are right. However, this selection, (...) which is one of the most effective law coding, is far from being practical. For this Leo III prepared his law book called Ecloga. Referred to as the first Christian law book, this work was later expanded with some additions. Ecloga was given its final shape during the period of Empress Irene. Irene is one of the strongest female figures in Roman history. Emperor Constantine V married his son Leo (who is from his first wife Çiçek Hatun, the Caspian Princess) to Irene. Irene was the daughter of an ordinary family. She was Athenian as origin. However, Athens was not a city as flashy as it was in ancient times. At the same time, the Athenians were against icon-breaking, which was the official ideology of the empire. It was really interesting that Irene was chosen by Constantine V as wife for his son Leo. After the death of Constantine V, Leo IV acceded to the throne without any problems. The fact that Leo IV had chronic tuberculosis prevented him from state administrations. Actually, it was Irene who filled in this gap. After the early death of Leo IV, due to the aforementioned disease, his 10-year-old son Constantine VI became officially regent. After killing her son by abacina-tion Irene became the sole owner of the throne. In the ongoing process, she abused law and religion to maintain her power. Irene’s first law supplement was on oaths. There were many references to the Holy Book in the annex of this law. It was mentioned that it is not a sin to swear in the Old Testament, but it is now forbidden to swear with the New Testament. In addi-tion, the law stipulates that the oath is the way to deny God precisely after lying. However, it was claimed that the oath tradition to the Roman society passed through the Hebrews. Un-doubtedly, Irene used the text of this law to prove that the oath of devotion of the majority of the eastern Roman army, allegedly to her son Constantine VI, was invalid. Because in the Ro-man army, fulfilling the necessary oath and loyalty to the emperor were in front of everything. It was possible for the empress to take over the throne with this proclaimed law article that the vows of the soldiers who swore in order to remain committed to Constantine VI within the army were void. It is obvious that Irene was trying to prevent a possible coup attempt within the army. The empress’ second annex to the law concerns those who married for the third time. The law was titled “About those who illegally contract to third or later marriages and about those who marry their own slaves”. In Christianity, it was allowed to marry for the sec-ond time after the death of one of the spouses. There were certain phrases that marriages to be held for the third time in the Holy Book were forbidden. It is clear that Irene had a political benefit in reminding this ban. Because her power was based on her marriage with Leo, who was the son of Constantine V from his first wife. Their rivals were the sons of Constantine V from his third marriage. Therefore, with this law, she eliminated her political rivals. (shrink)

This paper traces back the sources of our present legal system and of market economy to Medieval Europe which itself benefited from Hellenistic and Roman legal culture and commercial practices. Roman provinces placed Rome in the wider Greek cultural and commercial world. If Aristotle was already transcending the narrow polis-based conceptions of his predecessors, after him Hellenistic Civilization saw the emergence of a new school of philosophy: Stoicism. The legal thought in the Latin West will hence be characterized by (...) Cicero’s writings and its Stoic sources. The Roman legal system was similar to the later northern European customary law and the English common law; Roman law was evolutionary and customary. The rise of Western individualism, whether it dates back to St. Augustine in the fifth century, or to the two Papal Revolutions of Gregory I (establishing the nuclear family as the core of individualism) and of Gregory VII, also played a crucial role in shaping the western legal tradition. The paper describes the main forces that led to this second (Gregorian) revolution. Monasticism is one of them. Benedictine monasticism plaid a leading role in the Peace of God Movement. Hence collective oath-taking by groups in the name of peace was essential in the founding of cities and in the formation of guilds. Europe’s economic resurgence in the Eleventh Century was on the basis of the creation of the rule of law by the Peace of God movement. This movement also allowed for Europe’s agricultural economy to progress. Indeed, the European Middle Ages is one of the major periods of technological innovation in the history of the world. The Gregorian Revolution itself was supported and financed by the Commercial Revolution: Italian bankers sustained Papal reformers against the Emperors. The independence of the Italian cities and provinces reveals one of the most important consequences of the Gregorian Revolution: the polycentricism of Western Europe. This Revolution also witnessed the first large number of political pamphlets in European history; the Gregorian clergy emphasizing a compact theory of government. Soon after, the order of Cistercians was founded (1098) and underwent spectacular growth during the next two centuries. The Cistercians accepted no rents or labor services from feudal donors but would take only full possession of land to do with it as they wished.These monasteries were the most economically effective units that had ever existed in Europe, and perhaps in the world, before that time. Finally, the Magna Carta (1215) that will be so influential on modern political thought can be seen as a direct consequence of the Gregorian Revolution. (shrink)

This is a study of what constituted legality and the role of law in ancient societies. Investigating and comparing legal codes and legal thinking of the ancient societies of Mesopotamia, Egypt, Greece, India, the Roman Republic, the Roman Empire and of the ancient Rabbis, this volume examines how people used law to create stable societies. Starting with Hammurabi's Code, this volume also analyzes the law of the pharaohs and the codes of the ancient rabbis and of the Roman Emperor (...) Justinian. Focusing on the key concepts of justice equity and humaneness, the status of women and slaves, and the idea of criminality and of war and peace; no other book attempts to examine such diverse legal systems and legal thinking from the ancient world. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Platonopolis: Platonic Political Philosophy in Late AntiquityMichael F. WagnerDominic J. O'Meara. Platonopolis: Platonic Political Philosophy in Late Antiquity. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2003. Pp. xi + 249. Cloth, $55.00.Porphyry tells of Plotinus's failed petition to emperor Gallienus to (re)establish a "city of philosophers" conformed to Plato's laws, named Platonopolis (Vit. Plo.12). O'Meara here articulates primary themes and developments in philosophical political thought in the classical Neoplatonic period, from (...) Plotinus's day in the mid-third century into the sixth century. Concurrently, he addresses head on "the conventional view that the Platonist philosophers of Late Antiquity had no political philosophy" (3). This view exemplifies the more general perspective that the Neoplatonists were simply disinterested in this-worldly affairs in lieu of "an immaterial world... our true 'homeland,' where we can at last attain the good we desire" (3). Consequently, O'Meara provides both a unique study of an important [End Page 205] topic and a compelling case for a more complete, balanced understanding of Neoplatonic other-worldly-ness. O'Meara's study covers key figures from four main groups of (neo)Platonists: Plotinus and his students; the schools in Syria and Asia Minor inspired by Iamblichus; the Athenian school (Plutarch, Proclus, Damascius et al.); and the Alexandrian school (Hyapatia, Philoponus, Olympiodorus et al.). He organizes his investigation (chapters) into three Parts.The pivotal concept in O'Meara's two-pronged endeavor is divinization - "assimilation and unification, as far as possible, to god" (31, Proclus) - a concept whose meaning for classical Neoplatonists ranges from "becoming a god" to "imitating some form of divine life, in one way or another" (31). Part I focuses on the Neoplatonists' shared association of a human soul's divinization with virtue-osity [my jargon], beginning with Plotinus's distinction between political virtue(s) and purification—or purificatory virtue(s). O'Meara emphasizes the relevance of the resulting "scale of virtues" to a life of continued activity—for example explicating Plotinus's denial that a "purified" soul is somehow exempt from the rightness-of-acting expected of the politically virtuous soul: rather, "reaching higher principles and different measures he will act [directly, immediately] according to these" (43, En. I,2,7).Another organizing theme as O'Meara's investigations proceed beyond Plotinus is the significance of the increasing complexities of particular Neoplatonic metaphysical systems, and so also of their moral systems - e.g. their "scales of virtue." Part I also articulates related attempts (beginning with Porphyry and Iamblichus) to articulate programs of moral and philosophical study - i.e. a related "scale of sciences." Of special note here are proposals by some Neoplatonists to divide the "practical sciences" associated on this scale with political virtuousness into legislative science(s) and judicial science (56). Implicit in the Neoplatonic scale(s) of virtue(s) was the thesis that as one progresses towards divinization "lower" virtue-osity is not transcended in the sense of lost or dismissed but rather it is included or incorporated into a higher form. Arguably, "lower" sciences are likewise not merely aids or stepping-stones towards something "higher," but genuine topoi of study and knowledge in their own right.Part II is the true heart of O'Meara's outstanding scholarly and philosophical inquiry. Here is where he fulfills his intent to discern a substantive tradition of political philosophy and to articulate its key themes and concepts. Though he associates this part of his investigation with Plato's conceit of the philosopher's return to the cave, he immediately parses this "descent" as a "divinization of political life through philosophy" (71). He articulates various Neoplatonists' approaches to questions inspired by Plato's cave allegory—e.g. Is the philosopher socially obligated to "return"? Could s/he then still be happy? (His investigation here does seem to overlook Neoplatonic conceptions of choice, volition, or will as these might pertain to such questions.) O'Meara recognizes, however, that the more fundamental link between Neoplatonic metaphysics and Neoplatonic ethical-political thought derives from Plotinus's conception "of fecundity, of an [overflowing] abundance" (74) in his highest One, and so in a soul assimilated to It. In Proclus's formulation: "that which... (shrink)

Previous chapter In the aftermath of the Third Century Crisis, the Principate, which had proven inadequate to rule over an empire stretching between the Atlantic ocean and the Middle East, Northern Africa and Rhine and Danube rivers, was substituted by a new political system: the Dominate. In this system, the power was originally divided among four Emperors and four capitals under Diocletian, then reunited under Constantine, then divided again - Sur le concept de rythme – Nouvel article.