In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Response and Rejoinder DOES PHILOSOPHY NEED LITERATURE? a critical response by Hugh Mercer Curtler In the second issue of this journal,1 Jesse Kalin argues most provocatively that "philosophy needs literature" because the latter is capable of "rehearsing and exhibiting," as philosophy is not, "the moral construction of one's own life, namely that part of it in which concern and value" are involved (p. 182). Two of John Barth's novels— (...) The Floating Opera and The End of The Road—are used as examples and, according to Kalin, provide evidence for his thesis that philosophical novels present a certain kind of philosophical material in the only way it can be presented. More specifically, Kalin claims that these two novels (1) are both about nihilism, (2) advance the philosophical argument that nihilism is false, and (3) present this argument in a way it could not otherwise be presented. In Kalin's words, "the philosophical argument of these two novels cannot be presented in the normal non-literary mode exemplified by the essay and journal article" (p. 178). I shall examine each of these claims in turn. To say that Barth's novels are "about" moral nihilism is either trivially true or wrong-headed. If Kalin means that the novels "have to do with" moral nihilism, this is^ certainly true but not very significant. We might also say The End of The Road is about illegal abortion, the delights of teaching in a community college, or the trials and tribulations of a bachelor in a small town in Maryland. It appears, then, that Kalin has something more in mind; namely, that the point of the novel is an examination of moral nihilism. That this is indeed Kalin's intention would seem apparent from the second claim listed above: that Barth's novels argue that moral nihilism is "false." I shall examine the question ofwhether these novels "argue" the falsity of moral nihilism in a moment, but first I must raise an objection to the prior claim that such is the point of the novel. A novel does not make a point; it makes a great many points, it 110 Hugh Mercer Curtler111 provokes thought and raises questions, it suggests possibilities, it states truths (plural), and above all else it presents dramatically. That is to say, insofar as the novel is a work of art it does these things, and it is primarily a work of art. In terms of the contents of the novel, what we find is a host of images, thought fragments, figures, suggestions, hints, bits and pieces, and —if the novelist is a good one, like Barth—some valuable insights. If the novelist is a great one, then the insights are profound and worthy of repeated examination and reflection, although we may not always be able to make out precisely what the novelist has said; the novelist is a master of disguises and sleight of hand. The way of saying things is for him quite often more important than what is said. It is clear I share with Kalin very few assumptions about the nature of literature, or poetry, and its relationship to philosophy. With regard to his central claim that the "argument" of Barth's novels is (1) philosophical and (2) incapable of being presented in another form, I shall argue that because (2) is true (1) must be false. To prepare the way, I shall begin with a brief examination of the nature of "argument" as it applies in our present context. Kalin states that the argument presented by Barth in the novels is a "literarily advanced exhibitionary argument" (p. 180). What does it mean, though, to say the novel "argues" at all? Kalin surely does not contend that Barth is arguing philosophically in the manner of, say, Gilbert RyIe or even Kalin himself, hence his characterization of the argument as "exhibitionary." Barth's "argument," we must assume, seeks to persuade rather than to prove in any narrow logical sense of that term. Persuasion, in turn, is intuitive rather than reasoned, as suggested by Kalin's insistance that the argument cannot be separated from its literary form. As Kalin would have it, the novelist creates a... (shrink)

This book teaches students about argument in ethics by involving them in an ethical argument about relativism. The book argues against relativism and encourages students to question assumptions and present counter-arguments. The book also stresses basic ethical principles and includes a chapter with numerous cases for discussion. An excellent teaching tool!

THE ESSAY IS A REPLY TO NORMAN BOWIE'S EARLIER ARTICLE "ASPECTS OF KANT'S PHILOSOPHY OF LAW" IN THE "FORUM" (VOL. II, 4). CONTRARY TO BOWIE, I CONTEND THAT THE NATURAL LAW ELEMENTS PREDOMINATE IN KANT'S PHILOSOPHY OF LAW. THE CITIZEN CONFRONTED BY A CIVIL LAW THAT RUNS COUNTER TO THE MORAL LAW HAS ALTERNATIVES OTHER THAN REBELLION. HE CAN (1) SEEK REFORM OF THE LAW, (2) OFFER 'NEGATIVE RESISTANCE' TO THE LAW, OR (3) 'AVOID SOCIETY ALTOGETHER'-BREAK THE SOCIAL CONTRACT.

Reading good books -- After virtue, what? -- All's fair in war and politics -- Captain relative, be gone! -- Dumbing down the kids -- What became of God? -- The philosopher meets John Madden -- What's on TV tonight? -- Flotsam and Jetsam.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Journal of Aesthetic Education 38.1 (2004) 1-11 [Access article in PDF] The Artistic Failure of Crime and Punishment Crime and Punishment Hugh Mercer Curtler This essay begins by noting some fundamental differences between poets, in the broad sense of that term, and philosophers, or those who reflect discursively. It then moves to an examination of the epilogue to Crime and Punishment where Dostoevsky abandons poetry in order to (...) make a philosophical statement about human freedom. 1 Indeed, it can be said that much of Dostoevsky's mature writing was a battle between the man's urge to make pronouncements and the poet's need to control those urges. Fortunately, the poet nearly always won; at times he did not. This can be seen in the case of Crime and Punishment where Dostoevsky, the man, insisted on formulating an idea, specifically, the "idea of freedom." This statement marks the artistic failure of the novel, a concession on the part of the poet to the man. The tension in this novel, and indeed in many novels, is an important focalpoint in the teaching of great literature, because readers of fiction frequently forget that great novels are also great works of art. In this regard, despite the fact that he is an extremely careful reader of Dostoevsky's books, the psychologist/critic René Girard misses in his quest to find hidden messages — precisely what makes Dostoevsky a great artist who writes novels. 2 What this means to teachers of exceptional literature is that we must be attuned not only to what the author says, but also to the way in which he or she says it. In his writings about Dostoevsky, Girard is not terribly interested in what the poet has to say; he is interested in the way the man works out a particular psychological problem. Consequently, like many other critics, Girardglosses over the fundamental difference between the body of Crime and Punishment and its epilogue. Poetry and Philosophy Contrasted There is no truth in art, strictly speaking. If the term "true" has any application whatever to the world of art, it means "honest," or "true to life" [End Page 1] (which, as Kafka has shown, is not terribly important). Moreover, "true" may refer to the work's adherence to rules of craft, its internal harmony and coherence as a distinctive work of the human imagination. What one finds in poetry or linguistic art is a hodgepodge of images, thought fragments, figures, episodes, incidents, hints, and bits and pieces, and (if the poet is a good one) stunning insights. Poetry is, like all art, ineluctably ambiguous. It does not have a "message"; it has many messages. This is precisely why we need art and what makes art different from philosophy in its struggle to eliminate ambiguity. We will not find truth, in the form of knowledge or understanding, among the poet's wares, since knowledge, systematized and rendered coherent by means of the laws of thought, is the charge of the philosopher and his modern stepchildren.What this means is that those who approach novels intent upon finding a message run the risk of hammering poetry into a sheet by reducing it to philosophy. But novels, if they are any good, are not philosophical treatises, and this sort of reduction glosses over fundamental differences of scope and method.In an age that collapses distinctions lazily in order to reduce complex matters to simple terms, we must insist upon the fundamental differences between poets and philosophers. The domain of the philosopher is that of the concept or the principle, of ideas as objects of reflection. Philosophers deal in discursive thought as they seek logical coherence and conceptual clarity. The poet may employ ideas, but he uses them and embodies them imagistically: he does not try to develop them or verify them. 3 The philosopher's domain is unfriendly and unfamiliar to the poet. The law of contradiction reigns supreme there, and this law is anathema to the poet with his love of paradox.The poem presents images that must be apprehended in... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Journal of Aesthetic Education 38.1 (2004) 1-11 [Access article in PDF] The Artistic Failure of Crime and Punishment Crime and Punishment Hugh Mercer Curtler This essay begins by noting some fundamental differences between poets, in the broad sense of that term, and philosophers, or those who reflect discursively. It then moves to an examination of the epilogue to Crime and Punishment where Dostoevsky abandons poetry in order to (...) make a philosophical statement about human freedom. 1 Indeed, it can be said that much of Dostoevsky's mature writing was a battle between the man's urge to make pronouncements and the poet's need to control those urges. Fortunately, the poet nearly always won; at times he did not. This can be seen in the case of Crime and Punishment where Dostoevsky, the man, insisted on formulating an idea, specifically, the "idea of freedom." This statement marks the artistic failure of the novel, a concession on the part of the poet to the man. The tension in this novel, and indeed in many novels, is an important focalpoint in the teaching of great literature, because readers of fiction frequently forget that great novels are also great works of art. In this regard, despite the fact that he is an extremely careful reader of Dostoevsky's books, the psychologist/critic René Girard misses in his quest to find hidden messages — precisely what makes Dostoevsky a great artist who writes novels. 2 What this means to teachers of exceptional literature is that we must be attuned not only to what the author says, but also to the way in which he or she says it. In his writings about Dostoevsky, Girard is not terribly interested in what the poet has to say; he is interested in the way the man works out a particular psychological problem. Consequently, like many other critics, Girardglosses over the fundamental difference between the body of Crime and Punishment and its epilogue. Poetry and Philosophy Contrasted There is no truth in art, strictly speaking. If the term "true" has any application whatever to the world of art, it means "honest," or "true to life" [End Page 1] (which, as Kafka has shown, is not terribly important). Moreover, "true" may refer to the work's adherence to rules of craft, its internal harmony and coherence as a distinctive work of the human imagination. What one finds in poetry or linguistic art is a hodgepodge of images, thought fragments, figures, episodes, incidents, hints, and bits and pieces, and (if the poet is a good one) stunning insights. Poetry is, like all art, ineluctably ambiguous. It does not have a "message"; it has many messages. This is precisely why we need art and what makes art different from philosophy in its struggle to eliminate ambiguity. We will not find truth, in the form of knowledge or understanding, among the poet's wares, since knowledge, systematized and rendered coherent by means of the laws of thought, is the charge of the philosopher and his modern stepchildren.What this means is that those who approach novels intent upon finding a message run the risk of hammering poetry into a sheet by reducing it to philosophy. But novels, if they are any good, are not philosophical treatises, and this sort of reduction glosses over fundamental differences of scope and method.In an age that collapses distinctions lazily in order to reduce complex matters to simple terms, we must insist upon the fundamental differences between poets and philosophers. The domain of the philosopher is that of the concept or the principle, of ideas as objects of reflection. Philosophers deal in discursive thought as they seek logical coherence and conceptual clarity. The poet may employ ideas, but he uses them and embodies them imagistically: he does not try to develop them or verify them. 3 The philosopher's domain is unfriendly and unfamiliar to the poet. The law of contradiction reigns supreme there, and this law is anathema to the poet with his love of paradox.The poem presents images that must be apprehended in... (shrink)