There have been several recent attempts to refute objective consequentialism on the grounds that it implies the absurd conclusion that even the best of us act wrongly. Some have argued that we act wrongly from time to time; others have argued that we act wrongly regularly. Here I seek to strengthen reductio arguments against objective consequentialism by showing that objective consequentialism implies that we almost never act rightly. I show that no matter what you do, there is almost certainly something (...) else you could do that would have even better consequences. If objective consequentialism is true, the ratio of the number of your right actions to the number of your wrong actions is very close to zero. (shrink)

The discovery of a 1932 typewriter apparently signed by Heidegger raises questions about its authenticity and purpose, and prompts us to reconsider the validity of Heidegger’s portrayal of typewriters as devices that alienate writing from the hand and exemplify the modern oblivion of being.

Many objects in the world have functions. Typewriters are for typing. Can-openers are for opening cans. Lawnmowers are for cutting grass. That is what these things are for. Every day around the world people attribute functions to objects. Some of the objects with functions are organs or parts of living organisms. Hearts are for pumping blood. Eyes are for seeing. Countless works in biology explain the “Form, Function, and Evolution of... ” everything from bee dances to elephant tusks to pandas’ (...) ‘thumbs’. Many scientific explanations, in areas as diverse as psychology, sociology, economics, medical research, and neuroscience, rest on appeals to the function and/or malfunction of things or systems. They talk of how humans and other organisms or their parts work, what their functions are, why they are present, and how different situations will affect them and how they will react. Philosophers, going back to Aristotle, used to make generous use of functions in describing objects, organisms, their interactions, and even as the basis of ethics and metaphysics. And yet, since the Enlightenment, talk of the function of natural objects, teleological function, began to be viewed with suspicion, as the mechanical model of the world replaced the old Aristotelian model. From a religious standpoint, it used to be easy to see how objects in the natural world could have natural functions, for God was said to instill functions by design throughout Creation. But philosophers became increasingly reluctant to invoke God to solve every difficult philosophical problem, and became unwilling to indulge in such religious explanations of teleology. (shrink)

ArgumentDrawing and writing number among the most widespread scientific practices of representation. Neither photography, graphic recording apparatuses, typewriters, nor digital word- and image-processing ever completely replaced drawing and writing by hand. The interaction of hand, paper, and pen indeed involves much more than simply recording or visualizing what was previously thought, observed, or imagined. Both writing and drawing have the power to translate concepts and observations into two-dimensional, manageable, reproducible objects. They help to develop research questions and they open up (...) an interaction between the gathering of phenomena and the formation of theses. Related to the manifold studies of representational activities in the sciences and the humanities, this topical issue tries to refine our understanding of the capacities of drawing and writing as research techniques; i.e. as productive epistemic practices. In particular the contributions address three aspects: the material conditions and configurations of the “scene of drawing and writing,” the involved procedures of production, and the languages of inscription. (shrink)

Abstract At the time of The Logical Syntax of Language (Syntax), Quine was, in his own words, a disciple of Carnap’s who read this work page by page as it issued from Ina Carnap’s typewriter. The present paper will show that there were serious problems with how Syntax dealt with ontological claims. These problems were especially pronounced when Carnap attempted to deal with higher order quantification. Carnap, at the time, viewed all talk of reference as being part of the (...) misleading material mode of speech, and as such dismissed, rather than addressed, ontological problems. Central to the analysis in the present paper is the concept of an explication, which was seen by both Carnap and Quine as being of great philosophical importance. It will be shown that the concept of explication played a significant role in how each formulated their mature position on ontology. Both these final positions on ontology can also be seen as a evolving in reaction to Carnap’s flawed handling of ontological matters at the time of Syntax. Carnap, influenced by Tarski’s work on semantics, comes to believe that the concept of reference can be given an acceptable explication, and that by doing so we can see reference to abstract objects as unobjectionable. As a result, Carnap develops a position very different from the one presented in Syntax. Quine strongly rejected the instrumentalism of Syntax, and sought to give an explication of ontological questions that was language independent. This paper closes with a discussion of each’s understanding of the other’s position. (shrink)

It may strike some as incongruous to discuss both new media and Heidegger in a single article. Heidegger died in 1976, so he can hardly be considered as having first-hand experience with so-called new media. He is best known for his endeavour of destructing traditional Western metaphysics, and for an organic extension of this destruction, his philosophy of technology. He explicitly touches upon two communications-oriented technological inventions: the radio and the typewriter. In both cases, his criticism is quite obvious. (...) Despite all this, some of his considerations make it worthwhile to further investigating his criticism. I will start with an overview of the longstanding critical attitude toward any new media, and I will attempt to define some key terms with regard to old and new media. Then I will outline the philosophical background of the Heideggerian criticism, and investigate the lessons we can learn from Heidegger. (shrink)

In a future world of ubiquitous computing, in which humans interact with computerized technologies even more frequently and in even more situations than today, interface design will have increased importance. One feature of interface that I argue will be especially relevant is what I call abstract relational strategies. This refers to an approach (in both a bodily and conceptual sense) toward the use of a technology, an approach that is general enough to be applied in many different concrete scenarios. Such (...) an abstract manner of approach is relevant, for example, when an interface design for a device to which users are already accustomed is applied to an entirely different device (such as a device used for a completely different purpose). To articulate this idea, I explore the history of keyboards, and consider how the habits of interface with one kind (e.g., piano keyboards) have historically enabled some users to approach other technologies fitted with similar keyboard interface (e.g., typewriters, electronic instrumentation). I conclude by brainstorming ways that abstract relational strategies, applicable to a variety of different devices, will have increased importance in a future world in which computing is even more ubiquitous than today. (shrink)

In this paper we explore the phenomenon of writing online. We ask, ‘Is writing by means of online technologies affected in a manner that differs significantly from the older technologies of pen on paper, typewriter, or even the word processor in an off‐line environment?’ In writing online, the author is engaged in a spatial complexity of physical, temporal, imaginal, and virtual experience: the writing space, the space of the text, cyber space, etc. At times, these may provide a conduit (...) to a writerly understanding of human phenomena. We propose that an examination of the phenomenological features of online writing may contribute to a more pedagogically sensitive understanding of the experiences of online seminars, teaching and learning. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Journal of the History of Ideas 63.1 (2002) 105-128 [Access article in PDF] The Metaphoric Circuit: Organic and Technological Communication in the Nineteenth Century Laura Otis [Figures]In a public lecture in 1851, Emil DuBois-Reymond proposed that the wonder of our time, electrical telegraphy, was long ago modeled in the animal machine. But the similarity between the two apparatus, the nervous system and the electric telegraph, has a much deeper (...) foundation. It is more than similarity; it is a kinship between the two, an agreement not merely of the effects, but also perhaps of the causes. 1In 1851 the telegraph and the nervous system appeared to be doing the same things and for the same reasons. Their common purpose was the transmission of information, and they both conveyed this information as alterations in electrical signals. By calling the nervous system a "model" for the telegraph, DuBois-Reymond suggested that organic communications systems offered solutions to problems encountered by technological ones.In the same decade, however, Claude Bernard remained skeptical about the epistemological value of metaphor. From the classical notion of nervous fluid to the more recent ones of animal spirits and animal electricity, he pointed out, people's "knowledge" of the nervous system had consisted largely of a series of comparisons, "the expression of a way of seeing meant to explain the facts." 2 Priding himself on his empiricism, Bernard mistrusted analogy as a means of constructing knowledge. Does one know more or less about something, if one asserts that it is like something else? What exactly is the relationship between metaphor and knowledge? [End Page 105]Many scientific investigators have shared Bernard's concern that claims of likeness will change their perceptions of physiological systems, but for the same reason some scholars of language are more optimistic about the epistemological possibilities of metaphor. George Lakoff and Mark Johnson assert that the role of metaphor in scientific thinking provides one of the best illustrations of how metaphors reflect and influence what we see and do. "Formal scientific theories are attempts to consistently extend a set of ontological and structural metaphors," they argue. 3 This "extension," though, is just what worried Bernard. Metaphors provoke and give birth to new images. By establishing and reinforcing connections, they encourage us to see in new ways. While Bernard is correct that assertions of likeness alter the way we see, Lakoff and Johnson are equally correct in claiming that "much of cultural change arises from the introduction of new metaphorical concepts and the loss of old ones." 4 Alterations in the way we see can be extremely productive.One of the most intriguing cases through which to study the epistemological role of metaphor is that of comparisons between physiological and technological communications systems. Throughout the nineteenth century scientists' electrophysiological understanding of the nervous system closely paralleled technological knowledge that allowed for the construction of telegraph networks. Timothy Lenoir has demonstrated that Hermann Helmholtz and Emil DuBois-Reymond, the nineteenth-century scientists who made some of the greatest contributions to neurophysiology, worked closely with communications engineers like Werner Siemens. By developing models that reflected the apparatus they had adapted from physics and media technology, Helmholtz, and DuBois-Reymond changed people's understanding of the way nerves transmitted impulses. I agree with Lenoir that these comparisons between organic and technological systems were not mere devices for popularization but became incorporated into the scientists' own vision and understanding of the nervous system. 5 When one reads the proposals of nineteenth-century engineers, one begins to suspect that communication in the body and in society can only be understood in terms of each other. But can one claim that comparisons of communication mediated by bodies and machines actually contributed to knowledge of the nervous system and of early telecommunications networks?From the late eighteenth century onward, scientists studying organic and technological communications systems continually inspired one another. As Friedrich Kittler argues in Discourse Networks, nineteenth-century media for writing and communication—the telegraph, typewriter, and telephone—affected not just the way people wrote and... (shrink)

This book brings together for the first time five recent essays by Jacques Derrida, which advance his reflections on many issues: lying, perjury, forgiveness, confession, the profession of faith, and, most recently, cruelty, sovereignty, and capital punishment. Strongly linked by their attention to "performatives" and the "as if," the essays show the necessity of thinking beyond the category of acts that are possible for a subject. Derrida argues forcefully that thought must engage with the im-possible, that is, the order of (...) the unforeseeable event, the absolute future still to come. This acute awareness of the limits of performative programs informs the essays throughout and attunes them closely to events of a world undergoing "globalization." The first essay, "History of the Lie," reviews some classic and modern definitions of the lie, while renewing questions about what is called lying, as distinguished from other forms of nontruth. This inventive analysis is followed by "Typewriter Ribbon," which examines at length the famous lie recounted by Rousseau in his _Confessions_, when he perjured himself by accusing another of his own crime. Paul de Man’s reading of this textual event is at the center of Derrida’s patient, at times seriously funny analyses. "_Le parjure_, Perhaps" engages with a remarkable novel by Henri Thomas that fictionalizes the charge of perjury brought against Paul de Man in the 1950s. Derrida’s extraordinary fineness as a reader and thinker of fiction here treats, to profound effect, the "fatal experience of perjury." The two final essays, "The University Without Condition" and "Psychoanalysis Searches the States of Its Soul," address the institutions of the university and of psychoanalysis as sites from which to resist and deconstruct the nontruth or phantasm of sovereignty. For the university, the principle of truth remains at the core of its resistance; for psychoanalysis, there is the obligation to remain true to what may be, Derrida suggests, its specific insight: into psychic cruelty. Resistance to the sovereign cruelty of the death penalty is just one of the stakes indicated by the last essay, which is the text of a keynote address to the "States General of Psychoanalysis" held in Paris, July 2000. Especially for this volume, Derrida has written "Provocation: Forewords," which reflects on the title _Without Alibi_ while taking up questions about relations between deconstruction and America. This essay-foreword also responds to the event of this book, which Peggy Kamuf in her introduction presents as event of resistance. _Without Alibi_ joins two other books by Derrida that Kamuf has translated for Stanford University Press: _Points...: Interviews, 1974-1994_ and _Resistances of Psychoanalysis_. (shrink)

According to the Collingridge dilemma, technology is easy to control when its consequences are not yet manifest; once they appear, the technology is difficult to control. This article examines the development of keyboard layout design from the perspective of the Collingridge dilemma. For this purpose, unlike related studies that focus on a limited period of time, the history of keyboard development is explored from the invention of the typewriter and the QWERTY to brain–computer interfaces. Today, there is no mechanical (...) problem of the typewriter for which the QWERTY was designed. On the other hand, better layouts have been designed for various situations so far, that can be easily implemented especially on virtual keyboards, but QWERTY has not been replaced. The present study shows how various factors as heterogeneous engineering have shaped QWERTY, prevented the prevalence of superior layouts, and led to Lock-in. Then, unlike other studies related to the Collingridge dilemma, which provide a qualitative description of it, a quantitative description is proposed that helps to better understand the Collingridge dilemma and Lock-in. Finally, the case study of the QWERTY keyboard illustrates that the theory of human-technology co-construction can provide a more comprehensive explanation of technology development, while the Collingridge dilemma can better provide some details of technology development. (shrink)

Excerpt from The Heaven of Invention My general purpose has been to indicate some of the questions which a critic should take into consideration before passing judg ment on either artistry or works of art and which, I feel, have been neglected by them. In two earlier books, A Primer for Critics and Wingless Pegasus, I tried to analyze some of these, though with no appreciable effect. Now some twenty years later I return to the problem and tackle it from (...) a somewhat different point of view. Whether this will prove to be an advantage or not remains to be seen, but I have been encouraged to re-enter the field by friends who seemed to be interested in my arguments. All that is needed for a man enamored of writing is but the slightest tap on the shoulder to send him back to his typewriter. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works. (shrink)

“I type very quickly, very badly, with many errors [fautes],” Jacques Derrida confessed in a late interview. This paper proposes that the typographical error —usually viewed as a mere “accident” to be corrected or normalized— may in fact be understood as a productive site for deconstructive reading and thought. Drawing on Nietzsche’s provocative suggestion that the typewriter acts as a “collaborator” in thinking, I examine Derrida’s use of the writing machine with an eye to his ubiquitous typos or fautes (...) de frappe. I focus on Derrida’s readings of Heidegger in the Geschlecht series, analyzing the typescript of Derrida’s 1984-85 seminar “Le fantôme de l’autre” from which the texts of Geschlecht II and Geschlecht III are derived, in order to locate a Derridean thinking of the frappe or Schlag (that is, the blow, strike, or imprint) at the heart of every “type” (one of the many meanings of the German word “Geschlecht”). Following Derrida’s reading in the Geschlecht series and his own typographical practice, I argue that the typo should be thought of as the condition of possibility of every type —and as a defining difference between Derrida and Heidegger. (shrink)

“I type very quickly, very badly, with many errors [fautes],” Jacques Derrida confessed in a late interview. This paper proposes that the typographical error – usually viewed as a mere “accident” – may in fact be understood as a productive site for deconstructive reading and thought. Drawing on Nietzsche’s suggestion that the typewriter acts as a “collaborator” in thinking, this paper examines Derrida’s use of the typewriter, with particular attention to his typos. Following Derrida’s reading in the Geschlecht (...) series and his own typographical practice, this paper argues that the typo should be thought of as the condition of possibility of every type – and as a defining difference between Derrida and Heidegger. (shrink)

The word processor is a stupid and grossly inefficient tool for preparing text for communication with others. That is the claim I shall defend below. It will probably strike you as bizarre at first sight. If I am against word processors, what do I propose: that we write in longhand, or use a mechanical typewriter? No. While there are things to be said in favor of these modes of text preparation I take it for granted that most readers of (...) this essay will do most of their writing using a computer, as I do. My claim is that there are much better ways of preparing text, using a computer, than the word processor. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Supplement News from the Russell Editorial Project by Louis Greenspan As 1 WRITE, the Project room is completely silent. Richard Rempel is pu~suing the elusive tracks of Russell as ghost-writer, Research Associate Mark Lippincott is deciphering some manuscripts and our typesetter, Arlene Duncan, is keying in new texts for Volume 4. Albert Lewis vigilant-' Iy works daily on the computer, and over in the Russell Archives Ken Blackwell, with (...) the assistance ofSheila Turcon, continues to sleuth out new Russell writings, which we accept eagerly and appreciatively. In the age of the wordprocessor, silence has replaced the clacking of typewriters and the din of machinery. Silence signifies that there are people hard at work. Indeed we are! 1990 will be an important year. Volume 2, Philosophical Papers, 1896-99 (editedby Nicholas Griffin and Albert Lewis) has reached the publisher; we plan to have the first volume of the Bibliography (by Kenneth Blackwell and Harry Ruja) and Volume 6, Logical andPhilosophical Papers, 1909-13 (edited by John Slater) there by the end of the year; and Volume 3, Toward the "Principles", 1900-02 (edited by Gregory Moore), will not be far behind in 1991. Also in 1991 Volume 14, Pacifism and Revolution, 1916-18 (edited by L. Greenspan and R.A. Rempel with M. Lippincott) will be ready, and Volume 4, Foundations ofLogic, 190205 (edited by Alasdair Urquhart) will be coming to the home stretch. We will soon be working as quickly as Russell did! There are problems. In an age when even the Pentagon is suffering from cutbacks, so are we. The copy must be prepared by one typesetter who also acts as the Project secretary. That one person is handling a load that had previously been handled by three. Our university, like most others, is slashing budgets so that it has been forced to reduce its contributions to our funding. While we remain relatively fortunate in our level of university support, we in the Project have had to tighten our already taut belts even more. McMaster's budget cuts could mean that we cannot hire summer students for our research. This loss would be difficult but bearable. Next year some of the grants will run out. Then we will be even more dependent on a university, like others in Ontario, which is retrenching through a hiring 96 Russell summer 1990 freeze and other mortifications. Fortunately our May 1989 grants from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada remain unchanged. But the Russell Project has demonstrated that it is a hardy survivor. In the past we have endured cuts from S.S.H.R.C.C. and cutbacks from the university. But we have persevered and certainly accelerated our output significantly as our understanding of this massive enterprise has continued to develop. We welcome the fact that, through McMaster's support, John Passmore will be back this summer to give guidance, support and wisdom. The Bertrand Russell Editorial Project McMaster University... (shrink)

While trying to write her first novel, Georgelle Hirliman found herself suffering a severe case of writers block. To break free she installed herself in the window of a bookstore with her typewriter and invited passersby to ask her anything they wanted. She found that responding immediately to unexpected questions freed her to write, and gave her joy, so for ten years she sat in bookstore windows in New York, New Mexico and Oregon, answering with grace and wit such (...) questions as: WHAT IS THE ANSWER TO LIFE, THE UNIVERSE, AND EVERYTHING? WHY ARE THE RICH SO RUDE? WHY IS LIFE SUCH A BITCH? WHY WONT MY PARENTS BUY ME A HORSE? HOW MANY ROACHES ARE THERE IN NEW YORK? WHY DO PEOPLE FOLLOW THE GRATEFUL DEAD? WHAT HAPPENS TO ERASED WORDS? WHY ME? (shrink)

One measure of the validity of [Joseph] Frank's insight is the extent to which other versions of his ideas appear in other contexts: for if "spatial form" refers to something real, it cannot have escaped notice by other readers. One thinks, for example, of Northrop Frye's description of the critic viewing all the elements of the poem as a simultaneous array before him; or of Gaston Bachelard's evocative descriptions of The Poetics of Space. Or Pound's interest in ideographic script; or (...) the frequent critical association of modern literature with impressionist painting. Or Eliot's poet synthesizing Spinoza, the sound of the typewriter, and the smell of cookery into a unified whole. Or—at the root of it all, perhaps—Poe's insistence on the unified effect of the story or poem.1 All of these instances reflect a more or less casual assumption of the basic premise of Frank's essay. More recently another critic, Frank Kermode, has offered an alternative description of this general problem. In The Romantic Image2 he assesses symbolist poetic theory; here the verbal image , autonomous and autotelic, presumably unites meaning and feeling without intervening reflection or discourse: the "image" so hypostatized seems very close to a "spatial" form, and certainly the suppression of discourse, of reflection generally, follows from the disruption of syntax and narrative that results from the impulse toward "spatial" effects. Provisionally, we might say that Joseph Frank's essay is grounded in an essentially formalist conception of the literary work as artifact, and that the striking features of his argument result from an attempt to assimilate extended works to a theory basically lyric in its orientation: as corollary, we must assume that the modern writers he cites had themselves operationally defined the concept in the course of their writing. · 1. Northrop Frye, "Literary Criticism," in The Aims and Methods of Scholarship in Modern Languages and Literature, ed. James Thorpe , p.65. See also Fables of Identity: Studies in Poetic Mythology , p. 21. Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space, trans. Maria Jolas . Ernest Fenollosa, The Chinese Written Character as a Medium for Poetry, ed. Ezra Pound . T.S. Eliot, "The Metaphysical Poets," Selected Essays , p. 247. Edgar Allan Poe, review of Twice-Told Tales, in Works, 17 vols., ed. James A. Harrison 11: 104-13.· 2. Frank Kermode, The Romantic Image . William Holtz, professor of English at the University of Missouri-Columbia, is currently preparing an edition of an unpublished juvenile manuscript by Charlotte Brontë. (shrink)

The role of chance in producing a picture by snapping a shutter release before a complex and quickly changing scene weakens the bond between the historic action photograph and the meanings it is routinely asked to bear. To appreciate this problem and to understand the array of popular notions that have been marshaled to finesse or suppress the role of chance in photographic production, I consider the case of Joe Rosenthal’s 1945 photograph of American servicemen raising a flag on Iwo (...) Jima. The analysis pushes the production of this famous photograph through a series of zoological analogies: Is it like a fisherman reeling in a trophy catch? Like a cat pouncing on a mouse or a spider setting a trap for a fly? Like a pig pushing its snout through the dirt? Like chimpanzees banging at typewriters? These analogies are playful but also serious. We need new models for understanding the production of the historic action photograph because the predominant modern and postmodern approaches to that production have suppressed the role of chance. Whereas the modern regime tends to understand the historic action photograph as an inspired flash of history, the postmodern regime tends to understand it as a discursive effect. Entertaining the notion that such a photograph is instead a stochastic result leads to a new conception of photography and its relationship to history. Chance emerges as a third kind of photographic madness, alongside the industrial madness decried by Charles Baudelaire and the indexical madness that moved Roland Barthes. (shrink)

Kittler was among the first to invite Derrida to lectures in Germany, and to translate Derrida’s texts into German. Yet a cursory tally in his references does not always do justice to what Kittler’s media theory owes to deconstruction. Discourse Networks credits Derrida with a mere ‘rediscovery’ of grammatology, although Wellbery’s foreword labors mightily to identify the deconstructive traits in Kittler’s work. Gramophone, Film, Typewriter reduces The Post Card’s complex networks to an allegation that ‘voice remains the other of (...) typescripts' – as if Kittler had not in fact taken a much more subtle evaluation of hearing oneself speak from Derrida. What happens to the writability and citability of texts if they are sorted into such neat binary distinctions of logical or poetic orientation? What, to Kittler, is the quotability and readability of the body of work titled Derrida? (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Writing Anxiety: Christa Wolf’s KindheitsmusterMichael G. Levine (bio)For Diane C.Christa Wolf’s Kindheitsmuster, published in English as Patterns of Childhood, takes very little for granted—least of all the question of beginnings. The novel literally opens with the words of another: “Das Vergangene ist nicht tot; es ist nicht einmal vergangen,” a slightly altered translation of a line from Faulkner’s Requiem for a Nun: “The past is never dead. It’s not (...) even past.” 1 Lacking a proper opening and haunted by the specter of an unmastered and perhaps unmasterable past—of a “model childhood” spent in the East Prussian town of L. during the Third Reich, the text begins by questioning the very possibility of a clean break and a fresh start. This insistent question, raised in a variety of ways throughout the novel, is posed at the outset as a kind of textual stutter, as a perseverating question rehearsed from the beginning—and in lieu of simply beginning—as a series of false starts, as repeated attempts to start over, as a desperate struggle to restart a narrative paralyzed by the anticipation of difficulties still to come. “You lay aside stacks of tentatively filled pages, insert a fresh sheet in the typewriter, and start once again with Chapter 1. As in so many times during the last eighteen months, when you were forced to learn: the difficulties haven’t even begun [die Schwierigkeiten haben noch gar nicht angefangen].” 2 The temporal structure of this passage, found in the second paragraph of the novel, is worth commenting upon, for here the difficult question of how to begin seems to be folded back on itself, turned inside-out, as it were, and reposed as a question of difficulties that apparently have not yet even started. Indeed, only in a text that stammers from the start and begins by beginning over and over again could it be said both that the difficulties have already started and that they have not yet even begun.Already/not yet: such is the split temporal framework of a difficult encounter, of an encounter with difficulties that will never have been confronted as such. 3 The language of confrontation, of squaring off face-to-face, is particularly inappropriate in this context since, as we will see, the difficulties that force “you,” the writer, to begin again are not simply identifiable or avoidable obstacles in the way of writing but, rather, irreducible and irreducibly conflicted aspects of the writing itself. They are what keeps the writing from ever having a self, from ever being one with or self-consciously coming to itself. 4 [End Page 106]While it is tempting to describe Kindheitsmuster as a novel that is self-conscious in the extreme—difficult writing that writes about the difficulties of writing—one should bear in mind that it is a text that repeatedly calls into question the presumed authority and the capacity for self-knowledge of an instance derisively referred to in a passage inexplicably deleted from the English translation as “His Majesty the Ego [Seine Majestät das Ich]” [83]. In an apparent attempt to suspend the privileges usually accorded to—or, rather, autocratically arrogated to itself by—das Ich, the narrator makes a point of scrupulously avoiding the first-person pronoun when referring to herself in the text. (There is, of course, one important exception to this rule toward the end of the novel to which we will return much later.) As was already evident in the passage cited earlier, “You lay aside stacks of tentatively filled pages, insert a fresh sheet in the typewriter, and start once again with Chapter 1,” the narrator employs the second person rather than the first when speaking in the present—as though she could speak of herself at the moment only by speaking to herself. More significant still in this autobiographical novel that deals at length with the narrator’s memories of growing up in Landsberg on the Warthe (now the Polish town of Gorzmploys the second person rather than the first when speaking in the presenerson when referring to the child she used to be.What is one to make of... (shrink)

Reviews/interviews Capital Ellowen Deeowen: A Review of The Making of London: London in Contemporary Literature by Sebastian Groes - Adam Sumera Deconstruction and Liberation: A Review of Simon Glendinning’s Derrida - Wit Pietrzak Authenticity, Transdifference, Survivance: Native American Identity Masked: A Review of Native Authenticity: Transnational Perspectives on Native American Literary Studies, ed. Deborah L. Madsen - Monika Kocot Literature, the Arab Diaspora, Gender and Politics - Fadia Faqir Speaks with Maria Assif Absent Fathers, Outsider Perspectives and Yiddish Typewriters - (...) Norman Ravvin Talks to Krzysztof Majer. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Tracing a Traumatic Temporality: Levinas and Derrida on Trauma and ResponsibilityCathrine Bjørnholt Michaelsen (bio)For more than three decades, Jacques Derrida and Emmanuel Levinas develop their conceptions of trauma and responsibility in close, critical, and engaged readings of each other’s works.1 In a text first published in 1973, Levinas explicitly considers different aspects and implications of Derrida’s “new style of thought,” as well as his own relation to Derrida, describing (...) their recurring crossing of paths as “a contact at the heart of a chiasmus,” which is further said to constitute “the very modality of the philosophical encounter” (PN 56, 62).Since the publication of “Force of Law: The ‘Mystical Foundation of Authority’” in 1990, in which Derrida makes the somewhat surprising announcement that justice can be considered the undeconstructible condition of deconstruction (AR 243), as well as the subsequent publication of Specters of Marx in 1993, which is often designated as the work in which Derrida begins to consider ethico-political concerns more explicitly than hitherto, there has been much scholarly discussion about a so-called “ethical turn” of deconstruction.2 Throughout [End Page 43] the 1990s and up until this day a tendency prevails among certain scholars to strive for the establishment and legitimization of a more or less harmonic accordance between Levinas and Derrida with reference to concepts that preoccupy them both (e.g., “justice,” “hospitality,” “the other,” or “responsibility”). However, as Martin Hägglund has convincingly argued, a certain disjoining of Derrida and Levinas is required in order not to conflate what ultimately amount to two very different styles of writing and thinking. Such disjoining is particularly important when it comes to an issue such as responsibility, which is too often and too quickly categorized as an “ethical issue,” as if such a categorization were self-explanatory.3The aim of this article is not to carry out a comparative study focusing on the similarities and dissimilarities of the writings of Derrida and Levinas. Instead, the article is an attempt to let a “third” voice arise from the ongoing philosophical conversation between Derrida and Levinas, which is neither entirely accordant nor discordant, in order to emphasize a certain traumatic temporality of responsibility that finds a space in both their works while indicating the subtle nuances of disjuncture separating these spaces. In what follows, I therefore wish to explore some of the most significant displacements to which the notions of trauma and responsibility are subjected throughout the writings of Derrida and Levinas, as a result, to some extent at least, of their repeated chiasmic encounters.By way of introduction, it should be noted that both Derrida and Levinas transport the notion of trauma away from its most frequent psychopathological, psychoanalytic, or neurological areas of interpretation, just as they transport the notion of responsibility away from its usual autonomist or decisionist connotations toward a more extensive space of signification.4 Bearing this introductory note in mind, the question concerning what precisely enables this transport of trauma will direct the approach of the article. In other words, the article will question what it is about the structure of “trauma” or “traumatism” that allows the somewhat “fearsome” generalizations—to employ [End Page 44] Derrida’s own formulation from “Typewriter Ribbon”5 —to take place in the writings of both Derrida and Levinas.The suggestion in what follows will be that it is the peculiar temporality of trauma that allows for the generalizations, openings, and disseminations of trauma in Derrida and Levinas. More specifically, this traumatic temporality inscribes itself through an interruption of what might, with a reference to Heidegger, be called the vulgar understanding of time.6 Drawing attention to the temporality of trauma as a vehicle of transportation, the article advances in six main sections, each exploring different aspects of the relationship between temporality, trauma, and responsibility displayed in Derrida and Levinas.Traumatic TemporalityAs is well known, at least since Freud, trauma only becomes a trauma belatedly, or after its own fact, since a trauma only manifests itself by withdrawing itself in the traces it leaves behind, that is, by its aftermath and its effects of repetition and deferral. Trauma is somehow... (shrink)

With studies like Discourse Networks 1800/1900 and Gramophone, Film, Typewriter, Friedrich A. Kittler contributed significantly to transforming the history of media into a vital field of inquiry. This essay undertakes to more precisely characterize Kittler’s historiographical approach. When we look back on his early contributions to studies of the relationship between literature, madness and truth – among others, his doctoral dissertation on the Swiss poet and writer Conrad Ferdinand Meyer – what strikes us is the significance that Jacques Lacan’s (...) structuralist psychoanalysis had in shaping the orientation of Kittler’s later studies. His intensive engagement with Lacan galvanized Kittler’s concern with the question of sex and/or gender in the evolution of the humanities as well as his concern with the media history of the university. At the same time, Kittler’s reliance on Lacan led him to a kind of history that is interested above all in the internal logic of discourse. As we see, for instance, in Kittler’s anecdotic treatment of 19th-century physiologist Hermann von Helmholtz, this historiography does not involve any original research in archives and/or museums. Rather, it builds upon existing historical accounts and focuses its analyses on the issue of symbolic structures. Instead of investigating the history of the material culture of science and technology, what is thereby ultimately reinforced is a philosophical idealism in which knowledge and paranoia become superimposed in and by means of an ‘original syntax’ (Lacan). (shrink)

EM Forster’s short story “The Machine Stops” from 1909 is widely reread and discussed again for some ten years as it portrays a science-fiction world resting on similar technological advancements as today in the digital era. Also management literature reviewed the short story with regard to centralized decision making, rationality and totalitarianism. I argue instead, that the main theme of the short story is – in Forster’s own words – the closing of a civilization in times of transition and facing (...) major challenges. I built the argument by original quotes from Forster and by portraying the years 1906–9, when Forster developed the short story. This era before the Great War starting in 1914 was characterized by euphoric ‘futurism’ based on groundbreaking innovations like ‘long distance messaging’, ‘penny post’, ‘animated films’, Ford’s assembly line, ‘Olivetti typewriter’, ‘feature film’, ‘large ships’ and ‘air transportation’ – the ingredients of the short story as I argue. At the same time these acquitted years were characterized by increasing disintegration, instability, rebellions and a financial crisis with bailout programs. Based on the analogy and as part of speculative philosophy I reconstruct the current great challenges with Forster’ shadow of fatalism and arrive at the urgency to put more effort in addressing and researching pathways out of the crisis and towards stabilization of business and society. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Perjury and Pardon, Volume 1 by Jacques DerridaRalph ShainDERRIDA, Jacques. Perjury and Pardon, Volume 1. Translated by David Wills. Edited by Ginette Michaud and Nicholas Cotton. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2022. 368 pp. Cloth, $45.00This is the translation of a volume in the posthumously published series of Derrida's lecture courses. The most important of these are the early Heidegger: The Question of Being and History (1964–65) (...) and Theory and Practice (1975–76), no parts of which were published by Derrida. Substantial portions of the first volume of the lectures on Perjury and Pardon were published as separate essays, so the main question concerning this book is what it adds to the published portions.For those readers who are familiar with Derrida's most famous work and are curious about his deconstructive ethics ("ethics beyond ethics") and have not read any of the essays drawn from this book (such as "To Forgive: the Unforgiveable and the Imprescriptible," "Literature in Secret," and "Typewriter Ribbon"), this is a good place to approach the topic. One will find here many of Derrida's classic moves, such as the deconstruction of texts, concepts, and traditions. One will find conditions of possibility that are also conditions of impossibility, concepts that are contaminated from within by their opposites, and appeals to the experience of the impossible and to the distinction between a general and restricted economy.One will also find here those points that seem to be Derrida's weakest, such as the insistence on the privacy of the mental, a rather wobbly treatment of the separation between intending and causality, and the [End Page 545] claim, important for Derrida's "poetico-performative" theory of truth, that all constatives depend on a prior performative—a promise to tell the truth, always already contaminated by failure and hence a "perjury." (The first and third of these are also found in Derrida's published work.)The topics in this book are helpful in situating Derrida vis-à-vis other thinkers, especially those in the Frankfurt School. Derrida's concept of an impossible, paradoxical pardon might be compared with Adorno's concept of utopian moments. The promise of truth implicit in every constative might be compared with Habermas's quasi-transcendental ideal speech situation.Even if one has read one or more of the published portions, if one is unsure how they fit together, these lectures will allow one to see how they cohere. In the third session Derrida provides an outline of the project, which he qualifies with the comment that "I am aware of the grossly schematic character of this outline." Grossly schematic, yes, but grossly schematic outlines are very helpful. Here's the gist of the outline: "stubbornly tracking down in the Biblio-Koranic tradition a logic of economy, an economy, a sublime ruse which... comes to contradict and undermine a demand for finite-infinite forgiveness, forgiveness without condition, the aneconomic forgiveness that is nevertheless at the heart of this same thinking... showing that on the supposed Greek side, the aneconomic notion of forgiveness comes to organize the aneconomic logic and 'syngnomic' rationality of a so-called Greek culture." In short, the concept of forgiveness that is derived from the monotheistic traditions of forgiveness claims not to be pragmatic or goal oriented, but Derrida shows that it is, whereas the Greek concept that is the closest equivalent, and is supposed to be entirely pragmatic, has moments that exceed any limited economy. (If this still sounds opaque, see Derrida's essay on Bataille and general economy in Writing and Difference.)Even those who are well versed in deconstructive ethics and have read the published parts of this book may still find it quite interesting. Derrida's verbal elucidations of the typescript are transcribed from recordings and placed in footnotes. There are quite a few of these, and some of them are interesting. The editorial apparatus will allow one to confirm that one has indeed read all of the published parts, which one should not take for granted since a couple of them are in relatively obscure venues. The readings of texts are of variable interest, but even in the... (shrink)

This book provides a novel reevaluation of Jacques Derrida’s deconstructive account of writing. Derrida’s various essays on writing's materiality in books, scrolls, typewriters and digital displays, briefly touched on the question of religion. At times he directed his attention to the mediatic nature of Christianity. However, such comments have rarely been applied to formal aspects of religious texts. In response, this book investigates the rise of the Christian codex in its second-to-fifth-century-CE Jewish and Greco-Roman contexts. By better understanding the religious (...) nature of this technical development, it becomes possible to reframe writing's coincidence with faith. (shrink)

The irreducibility of language : the history of rhetoric in the age of typewriters -- The failures of empiricism : language, science, and the philosophical tradition -- What is a trope? : the discourse of metaphor and the language of the body -- The nervous systems of modern consciousness : metaphor, physiology, and mind -- Interpretation and life : outlines of an anthropology of knowledge.

Professor Gostin is a leading authority on health law, whose writing and teaching are among the most authoritative in the United States, as exemplified by his recent work, Public Health Law: Power, Duty, Restraint. Gostin's article in this issue of the Journal of Law, Medicine & Ethics pays homage to Jonathan Mann by expressing the debt he feels toward this extraordinary doctor and public health official with whom he had collaborated on several projects.As many will remember, Mann held high-level positions (...) at the Centers for Disease Control and worked on AIDS research in Central Africa before setting up the World Health Organization's Global Programme on AIDS, which he ran from 1986 to 1990. Thanks to his profound commitment and consummate communication skills, he achieved the unprecedented feat of raising the budget within two years to almost $100 million from the initial set-up of “himself, a secretary, and one typewriter,” as described by Daniel Tarantola. (shrink)

Traditional empiricist analyses of the source of scientific objectivity were based on two guiding themes: that a claim can be objective only if it is tested against some independent touchstone, and that observation provides that touchstone. The issue of objectivity arises here only for beliefs that are formulated as propositions or sets of propositions, and the standard view demands that objective beliefs make claims about entities that exist independently of those beliefs, and whose properties can be determined and compared with (...) the content of the beliefs under examination. In addition, it is demanded that the means of acquiring information about the entities in question be logically independent of the beliefs being tested. For example, if the belief that my typewriter has forty-five keys is to be objective, the typewriter must, in some sense, exist independently of any of my beliefs about it, and, although as a practical matter I might not check how many keys the typewriter has unless I happened to be testing some hypothesis, the procedure for determining the number of keys must not presuppose any of my beliefs about the number of keys. These demands hold whether we take such entities as my typewriter to be material objects that exist completely independently of our awareness of them and with which we somehow make contact through impressions, Machian elements, sense-data, or sensations. For even among those empiricists who hold that we ultimately perceive only our own sensations, it is still maintained that our beliefs in no way determine what sensations will occur at a given time. (shrink)

Is rhetoric just a new and trendy way toépater les bourgeois?Unfortunately, I think that the newfound interest of some economists in rhetoric, and particularly Donald McCloskey in his new book and subsequent responses to critics, gives that impression. After economists have worked so hard for the past five decades to learn their sums, differential calculus, real analysis, and topology, it is a fair bet that one could easily hector them about their woeful ignorance of the conjugation of Latin verbs or (...) Aristotle's Six Elements of Tragedy. Moreover, it has certainly become an academic cliché that economists write as gracefully and felicitously as a hundred monkeys chained to broken typewriters. The fact that economists still trot out Keynes's prose in their defense is itself an index of the inarticulate desperation of an inarticulate profession. (shrink)

It was a dark and stormy night, in the otherwise unnoteworthy year 711 E.C. , and the great-aunt sat crouched at her typewriter, holding his hands out to it from time to time as if for warmth and swinging on a swing. He was a handsome boy of about eighteen, one of those men who suddenly excite your desire when you meet them in the street, and who leave you with a vague feeling of uneasiness and excited senses. On (...) the plate beside the typewriter lay a slice of tomato. It was a flawless slice. It was a perfect slice of a perfect tomato. It is perfectly boring. I hold out my hands to the typewriter again, while swinging and showing my delicate limbs, and observe that the rows of keys are marked with all the letters of the English alphabet, and all the letters of the French alphabet minus accent marks, and all the letters of the Polish alphabet except the dark L. By striking these keys with the ends of my fingers or, conceivably, a small blunt object, the aging woman can create a flaw in the tomato. She did so at once. It was then a seriously, indeed a disgustingly flawed tomato, but it continued to be perfectly boring until eaten. She expired instantly in awful agony, of snakebite, flinging the window wide to get air. It is a dark and stormy night and the rain falling in in the typewriter keys writes a story in German about a great-aunt who went to a symposium on narrative and got eaten in the forest by a metabear. She writes the story while reading it with close attention, not sure what to expect, but collaborating hard, as if that was anything new; and this is the story I wrote . . . Ursula K. Le Guin, distinguished novelist, poet, and essayist, is the author of The Left Hand of Darkness, Malafrena, and The Dispossessed, for which she won both the Hugo and the Nebula Award. Her novel The Lathe of Heaven was made into a film by the Public Broadcasting System. (shrink)

“Writers don’t have tasks,” said Saul Bellow in a Q-and-A. “They have inspiration.”Yes, at the typewriter, by the grace of discipline and the Muse, but here, on Central Park South, in the Essex House’s bright Casino on the Park, inspiration was not running high.Not that attendance at the forty-eight PEN conference was a task. It was rather what Robertson Davies called “collegiality.” “A week of it once every five years,” he said, “should be enough.” He, Davies, had checked in (...) early, Saturday afternoon, and attended every session. In black overcoat and black fur cap, he had a theatrical, Man-Who-Came-to-Dinner look. In the lobby he made a great impression.Why not? After all, weren’t writers here to be seen as well as to see each other, to make as well as take impressions? A month before, I’d spent a couple of hours at the Modern Language Association convention. There were thousands and thousands of scholars and critics there. Some of the most noted make a career of squeezing authors out of their texts. An author, wrote one tutelary divinity, “constitutes the privileged moment of individualization in the history of ideas, knowledge, [and] literature….”1 Not content with auctoricide, deconstructionist critics went after texts. “Il n’y a pas de hors-texte.”2 Since there’s nothing that doesn’t belong to the text, texts are interchangeable. And it’s not that superfluous, mythical being, the author, who decides they are, but his readers, at least those readers capable of erecting on his miserable pedestal—the poem, the story, the novel—a memorable explication.Ah well, was my thought, for some people a corpse will serve as well as a person. Indeed, for intellectual undertakers, hit-men, and cannibals, as well as for those who suffer the tyranny of authority, corpses are preferable to their living simulacra.Few authors at the PEN conference were troubled by these critical corpse-makers. They were here to see the authors behind the books they’d read, to swap stories and opinions, and to make clear to each other what splendid thinkers and noble humans they were outside of the poems and stories which had brought them here in the middle of winter and New York. In this city, more than any other in the history of the word, the word had been turned into gold. If one were going to abandon the typewriter for the podium, what better place to do it? In 1985, Richard Stern was given the Medal of Merit, awarded every six years to a novelist by the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters. He is the author of, among other works, the novels A Father’s Words , Other Men’s Daughters , and Stitch . His third “orderly miscellany,” The Position of the Body, will be published in September 1986. This essay is part of a longer work. Stern is professor of English at the University of Chicago. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Materialities of CommunicationEric DeanThe Materialities of Communication, edited by Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht and K. Ludwig Pfeiffer; xvi & 447pp. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994, $52.50 cloth, $17.95 paper.In closing this collection, Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht outlines the common purpose which makes it more than a random assortment. There has been, as he characterizes it, a theoretical shift in the humanities “from interpretation as identification of given meaning-structures to (...) the reconstruction of those processes through which structures of articulated meaning can at all emerge” (p. 398). He motivates this shift by suggesting that theorists should no longer pursue final and therefore unchanging explanations, but rather should create provocations for changes in perspective. Focusing on the processes through which meaning can emerge—the materialities of communication rather than the insubstantialities of interpretation—stimulates the constant change, the perpetual “renegotiation of self-reference,” which Gumbrecht recommends as the rightful role of theory.The breadth of these ambitions is reflected in the scope of the collection. There are twenty-five essays from twenty-six writers, predominately German, including two from each editor—a context piece and a separate contribution. The range of subjects is enormous. There is one essay on ancient Egyptian signs and another on how the immune system creates the self it both recognizes and preserves. One touches on Nietzsche’s abortive attempt to save his eyesight by using an early version of the typewriter, another interprets the fall of the Roman Empire as the corruption of the postal system (Egyptian in origin) used to deliver the command, imperium, which constituted the Empire in the first place. The scholarly contexts range widely as well—from sociological communication theory to media history to biology to art criticism.There are some delightful curiosities the writers bring to light. For example, at one point in “The Early History of German Television,” the authors, M. Elsner, T. Muller, and P. Spangenberg are describing how fantasies about the new technology outran practicalities. They cite an illustration from a 1928 German magazine in which a man is shown lying in bed, “with a fragmented dashboard in front of him—he seems to steer some technical apparatus and, at the same time, to look at a mountain panorama, which is seen from a bird’s eye view on a kind of projection screen. The caption deciphers the illustration for us: ‘Marvels that we might still experience: viewing the world from bed through [End Page 395] television. The apparatus above the bed serves to operate, by remote control, an airplane that carries the filming apparatus...’” (p. 117).In other places too the writing evades the risk of self-absorption implicit, for all its purportedly exterior focus, in Gumbrecht’s theoretical project. Vivian Sobchack, for instance, closes an interesting meditation on film and electronic technologies this way: “Within the context of this material and technological crisis of the flesh, one can only hope that the hysteria and hyperbole surrounding it is strategic—and that through it the lived-body has, in fact, managed to reclaim its existence and against our attention, to forcefully argue for simulation. For there are other subjects of electronic culture out there who prefer the simulated body and a virtual world...” (pp. 105–6).By the end, though, I found myself wondering whether it was really possible to put this diversity together as a whole, whether the purportedly redeeming concreteness of a program focused on The Materialities of Communication wasn’t at odds with the idea that there is much in common among all these different materials. Coeditor K. Ludwig Pfeiffer, may have inadvertently provided the epigraph for the book. “Iago incites Othello to the greatest nonsense,” he writes, “because Othello no longer differentiates between manipulated sensual certainty and credibility” (p. 59). I wonder about a theoretical perspective that calls Othello’s torment his “nonsense,” and I wonder whether the advocates of such a perspective might not be manipulating sensual certainty to perhaps equally bleak, though in this case unintended, ends.Eric DeanChicago, IllinoisCopyright © 1995 The Johns Hopkins University Press... (shrink)

© The Author 2017. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of The Scots Philosophical Association and the University of St Andrews. All rights reserved. For permissions, please e-mail: [email protected] the very end of his extraordinary philosophical career, Quine used a 1927 Remington typewriter—a machine that was perfectly adapted to his scholarly needs because he had replaced many of its keys with logical symbols. Famously, one of the keys Quine removed was the question mark. Asked about his curious (...) class='Hi'>typewriter by an inquisitive reporter, Quine quipped that he did not require a question mark because he dealt in certainties.Quine's Remington graces the cover of this handsome volume of essays, which grew out of a joint Glasgow-Campinas conference held in Glasgow in 2014. The cover photo reveals that Quine sacrificed the question mark for a reversed epsilon ; the volume's essays ‘fill some major gaps in the historical narrative,... (shrink)

This article argues that rhetorical theory will never dominate a quasi-originary and ontolgising rhetoricity that nonetheless calls for it. This rhetoricity is not simply a game played ‘in the world’, to borrow Derrida's phrasing; it is—like writing, like metaphoricity, like the ‘yes-yes’ or (en)gage—one more name for ‘the game of the world’. To get some traction on this undeclinable yet unmasterable rhetoricity, we’ll examine what Derrida calls ‘a danger of rhetoricism’ in de Man's work, a tendency to overestimate the authority (...) of the linguistic, the verbal, the discursive. The goal is not so much to substantiate Derrida's suspicions about de Man's ‘rhetoricism’ as it is to get on the tail of a rhetorical force that is irreducible to it, an ineluctable affectability or responsivity that is bound up in the very structure of sur-vival. (shrink)