Contexte : Dans les systèmes de santé universitaires complexes, les projets d’amélioration de la qualité (AQ) destinés à améliorer les soins et l’apprentissage prolifèrent, mais il existe des différences considérables quant à la manière dont ces projets sont supervisés sur le plan éthique, voire même s’ils le sont. À la suite d’un volume élevé de projets soumis à l’un de nos comités d’éthique de la recherche (CER), mais considérés comme n’étant pas de la recherche et donc non éligibles à un (...) examen, des questions ont commencé à se poser au sein de notre organisation sur la manière dont les dimensions éthiques des projets d’AQ pourraient être évaluées et sur les approbations institutionnelles qui pourraient être nécessaires pour garantir la conformité avec les normes émergentes. Méthodes : Une enquête environnementale à méthodes mixtes a conduit à une analyse quantitative rétrospective des projets d’AQ de notre organisation, associée à des consultations qualitatives approfondies avec le personnel, les médecins et les apprenants de l’ensemble de notre réseau de santé. Les exemptions de CER ont été analysées à l’aide de diagrammes d’exécution afin d’évaluer les volumes de base des projets d’AQ, et des analyses thématiques ont été menées sur les notes de terrain de 133 consultations avec les parties prenantes. Résultats : Au cours d’une période de 34 mois, 117 lettres d’exemption du CER ont été émises pour des projets d’AQ. Les consultations ont mis en évidence la nécessité d’un processus d’évaluation éthique clairement défini pour les projets d’AQ, de structures de gouvernance appropriées et de possibilités d’identifier et d’atténuer les risques. Les personnes interrogées ont également évoqué l’impératif éthique de mener des initiatives d’AQ. Le présent document explique comment ces thèmes ont contribué à l’élaboration et à la mise en place de notre comité d’examen de l’amélioration de la qualité (CEAQ). Conclusion : Depuis 2020, plus de 840 projets ont été examinés par notre CEAQ, dans le but d’atténuer les risques pour les patients, le personnel et les équipes de projet d’AQ dans l’ensemble de l’UHN. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Buddhist-Christian Studies 21.1 (2001) 103-106 [Access article in PDF] The 2000 Meeting of the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies Edward L. Shirley St. Edward's University The annual meeting of the Society for Buddhist-Christian Studies met in Nashville on Friday and Saturday, November 17 and 18, 2000. This year's papers addressed the theme "Beyond the Usual Alternatives in Buddhist-Christian Dialogue," with usual alternatives being the categories of exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism.The (...) first session was held Friday afternoon. The first presenter, Terry Muck, spoke from a Christian perspective. He first addressed the adequacies of these three categories.Were these legitimate categories?Were they the only categories? Were there better ways to categorize theoretical positions involving the truth claims of the other? Terry suggested first that it seemed unnecessary to expand these three categories to include a fourth or fifth. Nor did he feel that it was necessary to do away with said categories altogether. He proposed, rather, that we make use of these three categories as helpful but that we be careful not to use them to label people. Indeed, he suggested, the same person might be inclusivist at one point in the dialogue but pluralist at another. It was especially important not to use these categories to dismiss another's position: "Oh, she's just an inclusivist." Terry pointed out that much of the discussion concerning the truth claims of the other were ultimately grounded in questions of soteriology: who will be saved (from a Christian perspective), or who can be liberated (from a Buddhist perspective)?The second presenter was Miriam Levering, speaking from a Buddhist perspective. In her paper, she used three medieval Chinese Buddhist teachers who seemed to represent these three categories: Kuei-feng Tsung-mi, Ch'eng-kuan, and Ta-hui Tsung-kao (with whom she also associated contemporary Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh). The three teachers were facing questions about the relationship of Buddhism to Confucianism and Taoism. Kuei-feng Tsung-mi taught that there were three types of teachings: those that were nonliberative, those that were partially liberative, and those that were fully liberative. Lao-Tzu and Confucius, he maintained, were liberated beings, but were not fully liberated. Their liberation was partial or shallow. Ta-hui Tsung-kao, on the other hand, taught that words and concepts were not as important as the experience of emptiness and non-self, which could take place outside a Buddhist context. This seems to be the position, Miriam suggested, ofThich [End Page 103] Nhat Hanh. Finally, Ch'eng-kuan taught that only Buddhism contained the truth and that the teachings of Taoism and Confucianism were poison and led one to hell.Virginia Straus responded from a Buddhist perspective. She appreciated Terry's suggestion that we shift from seeing the three categories as labeling and use them as instrumental categories: people tend to function in this way. She felt that Miriam's paper resonated with Terry's as she presented three types of teaching from within the Buddhist tradition.Virginia felt, however, that perhaps Terry had too quickly written off attempts to expand the number of categories to a set of four or five. Indeed, she pointed out, both presenters either ignored or dismissed this important work. Virginia also questioned why Terry seemed to let the positive and negative aspects of dialogue rise and fall on the question of salvation. What of David Chappell's suggestion that dialogue be based on responses to cultural and economic oppression rather than the search for truth? Global ethics, she suggested, would give a larger framework within which to dialogue.Afterwards, there was general group discussion. A question was raised as to whether there was a parallel between this discussion of dialogical positions and the debate in studies of mysticism between the perennialists and pluralists. Others questioned Thich Nhat Hanh's position that dialogue could only take place from the position of nonduality. Were these categories merely ways religious liberals had to label others? Can there be a Christian or Buddhist ethics without the experience of grace or non... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:ISTO VILIVS (Suetonius fr. 112, Terence Ad. 981)A. S. GratwickA corrupt passage in Charisius, quoted below, preserves the bare bones of an anecdote, attributed to Suetonius, which is meant to illuminate the obscure expression isto uilius, "more meanly than" or "more meanly by that." The phrase occurs elsewhere only in Terence (Ad. 981), with a quite different sort of explanation in Donatus' note. The passage in Suetonius ought somehow (...) to relate to the one in Terence, but it is unclear what the relationship may be, and though Bentley (1725 ad loc.) took the story to explain the Terence passage, the problem has been neglected by most of Terence's subsequent commentators.My aims here are first to examine the two contexts separately, next to propose a new solution of the problem in Charisius, and lastly, putting both passages together, to suggest that it is the passage in Terence which gives a witty point to the story in Suetonius, rather than the other way around.1We begin with Terence. "Marry the elderly Sostrata, reward Hegio, free Syrus—oh, and free Phrygia too to be his wife, and, of course, give them a helping hand": in the finale of Terence's Adelphoe (924-97), Demea well and truly gets his own back on Micio. Terence makes Demea use the same stratagem five times over, balancing the mechanical aspect of the repetitions with variation of the scale and wording.1 But each time essentially the same three things happen: Demea's apparently generous suggestion elicits a wary or grudging reaction from Micio; Aeschinus' admiration of Demea grows; and Micio gives way when it is pointed out by Demea or indicated by the young man himself that he [End Page 79] oh, so wants Micio to say yes. For us the audience, the reversal of the roles of manipulator and manipulated makes excellent farce; the timing is superb, Micio's bewilderment and consternation are comic, and against our expectation they cumulatively alter our earlier perception of him as a cool philosophe. His gravitas is undermined, and mockery is made of his educational principles, which are made to seem nothing but easygoing indulgence of Aeschinus' every selfish whim; and this all leads swiftly to the startling Terentian conclusion that Demea, not Micio, is the true father for all seasons (Ad. 984-97).This is all done with technical bravura, but in debatable taste, and the debate is of long standing; here, however, we wish only to recall the context, not to add to the debate. When we probe the detail of Terence's presentation, the broad consideration that this is the Terentian, not the Menandrian conclusion to the play2 is relevant in that it should prevent us from wondering about any close Menandrian equivalents in Terence's choice of words or expression.MICIO. Syre, processisti hodie pulchre.DEMEA. siquidem porro, Micio, tu tuom officium facies atque huic aliquid paullum prae manu dederis unde utatur; reddet tibi cito.MICIO. istoc uilius.AESCH. frugi homost.SYRUS. reddam hercle, da modo.AESCH. age pater!MICIO. post consulam.DEMEA. faciet.SYRUS. o uir optume!AESCH. o pater mi festiuissume!(Ad. 979-83)AE. frugi homo est Σ: DE. frugi homo est Lindsay and Kauer (OCT)In focusing on the fifth and last of Demea's sallies, we are not looking at a passage like, say, Heauton Timorumenos 61-66, where we have external evidence that Terence was specifically translating his model, but at one of which Terence himself is the author. In seeking an explanation for istoc uilius, the idioms and proverbs of New Comedy [End Page 80] and other Hellenistic Greek literature do not in fact help, but that is scarcely surprising in a purely Terentian Latin context.Micio's reaction (981, istoc uilius) to the suggestion that he should subsidize Syrus corresponds in the earlier episodes to the rejections me ducere autem? (934), de te largitor puer! (940), paullum id autemst? (950), istunc liberum? (960), and ob eam rem? (977), all of which express protest, surprise, reluctance. Here he has had enough and, instead of just protesting, refuses straight out—but immediately... (shrink)

continent. 1.1 (2011): 60-67. At the beginning of Martin Heidegger’s lecture “Time and Being,” presented to the University of Freiburg in 1962, he cautions against, it would seem, the requirement that philosophy make sense, or be necessarily responsible (Stambaugh, 1972). At that time Heidegger's project focused on thinking as thinking and in order to elucidate his ideas he drew comparisons between his project and two paintings by Paul Klee as well with a poem by Georg Trakl. In front of Klee's (...) Saints from the Window and Death of Fire —though we wouldn’t absolutely understand what we were seeing—he writes, “we should want to stand…a long while.” In a similar manner, of Trakl’s poem “Septet of Death”—although it is likely we are unsure in what we hear—Heidegger states that, “we should want to hear…[it] often.” Heidegger further states that in appreciating these, “we “should abandon any claim that [they] be immediately intelligible” (1). So also we must we approach, Heidegger continues, the realm of theoretical physics, in which the difficult work of Werner Heisenberg, be listened to “without protest” and without “any claim that he be immediately understood.” These works, like his own project, merit the time they take to be originally (mis)understood. But this is not necessarily true for philosophy, Heidegger advises, because, “That thinking is supposed to offer ‘worldly wisdom’ and perhaps even a ‘way to a blessed life’” (1). Philosophy is in the unique position of being both abstract (what do we talk about when we talk?) and at the same moment, useful. There are demands that it make sense, that it be, grounded, immediate, and most importantly, rational. Heidegger draws these comparisons between the works of Klee and Trakl and Heisenberg not to claim that philosophy is totally irresponsible. He does not claim that the poet, the painter, nor the physicist have acted irresponsibly. Rather, he would say, they are rising to the highest levels of intelligibility, though it is perhaps an intelligibility that is commonly unavailable to us. In Trakl’s case, as we shall see, mastery is the end result of difficult words. Instead, Heidegger seems be making pleas: for a period of uninterrupted unintelligibility (pure unintelligibility); and that there is a time (that time is now) when, “thinking is…placed in a position which demands of it reflections that are far removed from any useful, practical wisdom” (1-2). Heidegger argues that philosophy requires a period of time in which, instead of focusing on the practical—or even on the worldly—the discipline draw its “determination” instead from the place of painting and poetry and physics. In doing so, “we should have to abandon any claims to immediate intelligibility” (2). But Heidegger doesn’t offer this as a way out. We still have to turn up, we “still have to listen, because we must think what is inevitable, but preliminary” (2). The point for Heidegger, is not to listen to a series of propositions, but instead to “follow the movement of showing” (2). I. … Maybe we're here only to say: house, bridge, well, gate, jug, olive tree, window— at most: pillar, tower … but to say them, remember, oh, to say them in a way that the things themselves never dreamed of existing so intensely.… Rainer Maria Rilke, “The Ninth Elegy” There is little more fundamental, preliminary, in the world than language. We use language, in the form of speech, constantly, whether we are saying anything or not. “Man speaks,” Heidegger writes, and goes on to describe in his essay “Language” (2001) the constant speaking that we do. “We are always speaking, even when we do not utter a single word aloud, but merely listen or read, and even when we are not particularly speaking or listening but are attending to some work or taking a rest” (187). Speaking is expression, an utterance of something internal. It is a recognition of a world. It is a way of communicating thought and it is an activity that we all do, inevitably. Speaking separates the human from the animal world, and despite advances in primatology that seek to give ‘voice’ to primates and other non-human animals, it can safely be said that our form of communication—what we call speech and know as language—is the most advanced, the most complicated. We use it to present and represent the world around us; through actual utterances (vocalization) or through the written word or through ‘unvoiced thoughts’ and dreams. We use language, but more specifically speech—naming—to transmit moods, thoughts, desires, aversions, and feelings. These expressions, mere utterances, nearly always find a source in words, whether spoken or not. Heidegger writes that this common view of language means “that only speech enables man to be the living being he is as man. It is as the one who speaks that man is—man” (187). Speaking then—utterance—surrounds us constantly, whether in the form of careful thought—in the form of an academic paper, say—or in the half mutterings and forgotten thoughts of a nearly remembered dream. Like scaffolding, the apparatus of speech sustains and explains the world, making, in a sense, the world rational, making it apparent. When we speak, we describe, and in doing so, name the world. We use words, through this process of naming, to interpret and sustain the world we see, and the world we imagine. Like Rilke’s naming of jug, and bridge, and window, and stream, we describe—and inscribe upon—the world through an activity of naming. Are we here, perhaps, to name? Is it possible not to name? Is it possible to regard and to view and to look around without naming what we see? Is it possible to feel—to experience—world without giving utterance to that feeling, that process? Sadness, grief, joy, ecstasy, hunger, thirst. Desk, light, room, pen, book, world. White, black, tomorrow, today. Each of these words is a name given to a thing I see in front of me, or a concept that I imagine (in the case of tomorrow or world). What arises in my mind has already existed. If I imagine it, it is named. The word for ‘tomorrow’ and ‘desk’ and ‘light’ precedes me, and precedes my concept of it. The idea of it is already pre-informed, and I must, in a certain sense, bend my ideas to it. When I imagine a table, I imagine my own table (or I imagine an idea of table) but that imagining must follow certain general rules; while, perhaps, it might not always require four legs and a horizontal surface, it must, at least not be, say, a pool of water, or a pile of excrement. It must have some tableness to it to be a table. It must, with Heidegger, table. Otherwise, speech is reduced to gibberish. For Heidegger however, the discussion of language points to something deeper than its “scientific and analytic” study as a communicative device. Indeed, Heidegger seeks to understand language not in reference to man or woman, not as an utterance of humanity, but in reference to itself. In doing so he abandons the conversation—that is, he casts away the traditional arguments surrounding philosophy of language; that it is a means of expression; that it is a human activity; and that it is somehow a representation of something that is—in order to seek to understand language as language, on its own terms. Heidegger is not a philosopher of language, but a philosopher of world, of being. Despite these “correct ideas” holding sway “over the whole field of the varied scientific perspectives on language…they ignore completely the oldest natural cast of language” (191). What is this “oldest natural cast of language? It is the act of language itself. Language is language and language speaks. “Most often,” Heidegger writes, “and too often, we encounter what is spoken only as the residue of a speaking long past” (195). Speech, as we normally encounter it, is like Echo herself calling out to Narcissus, doomed to repeat what has already been said, a mere remnant of what was once language, a trace left behind in the gathering silence of becoming. In both the essay “Language” and in his three lecture course “The Nature of Language” (1982), Heidegger attempts to unpack the seeming tautology of language as language. In each, he focuses on poetry as a way out, or into, a true discussion of the oldest natural cast of language. Poetry is pure speech. In poetry, language is brought to language and language speaks ( Die Sprach spricht ). In the act of poetry, the act of pure speech, the poet names (on the surface not different from how I name this table, this computer) but in the poet naming, the naming does not “hand out titles,” “apply terms,” but rather the naming is a call, a calling forth of entities that bring them into their own, allow them to take their place purely, without compromise. This calling, Heidegger (2001) states, “here calls into a nearness. But even so the call does not wrest what it calls away from the remoteness, in which it is kept by the calling there. The calling calls into itself and therefor always here and there—here into presence, there into absence” (196). II. Window with falling snow is arrayed, Long tolls the vesper bell, The house is provided well, The table is for many laid. Wandering ones, more than a few, Come to the door on darksome courses. Golden blooms the tree of graces Drawing up the earth’s cool dew. Wanderer quietly steps within; Pain has turned the threshold to stone. There lie, in limpid brightness shown, Upon the table bread and wine. Georg Trakl “A Winter Evening” Heidegger is often given short shrift as an abysmally difficult writer, as one that makes no sense and is needlessly difficult. In doing this though, we forget sometimes his eloquence, his simple beauty in writing. Of the above opening stanza, “Window with falling snow is arrayed/ Long tolls the vesper bell.” he writes (2001), This speaking names the snow that soundlessly strikes the window late in the waning day, while the vesper bell rings. In such a snowfall, everything lasts longer. Therefore the vesper bell, which daily rings for a strictly fixed time, tolls long. The speaking names the winter evening time (197). The speaking names the winter evening time. It is almost impossible to comment on that one line by Heidegger. It is as though it must exist on its own completely, without elucidation—as though in front of it we must stand as we do in front of a painting by Klee, that is, we must abandon any claim . Silent and devoted. The speaking of the poem here is not clearly different from common speech ( rede ) yet there is, via Heidegger, an invitation to experience that auracular quality of light and stillness that a gentle, dusk tinged snowfall gives; words evoking a quality so clear, so poignant that, in a sense, Heidegger’s work, at this moment, has been done. But what does this naming accomplish? What does the call call? Remember, it is not the poet that calls, but the naming which calls. The poet has only brought the words forward; it is now the words— snow, vesper bell, window— that take new life in the pure language of the poem. Entities are called forth into presence, like the speaking that names the winter evening time. Not to be present amongst us now, however; naming ‘table’ in the poem does not place it in front of us in this room. Rather, the naming places entities into a gathering which is also a sheltering. The naming brings them to be. In an act of appropriation, things come to be purely as their own, unimpeded by a predetermined expectation. They are called to themselves into an arrival. In Being and Time (1962), Heidegger famously describes the movement between present-at-hand and ready-to-hand in his analysis of the hammer, and of equipment in general. This analysis is already known, if not always clear, to most readers of Heidegger. Briefly, a hammer is ordinarily zuhanden or ready-to-hand; it is part of the background of the world, equipment used and never thought about, like this desk, this sheet of paper, this room. Our interaction with it is temporary and it is historically different for each entity and each relation. We need a hammer, we use a hammer. If all goes according to plan, the hammer remains ready-to-hand; it remains, in a sense, undisclosed and certainly unobtrusive. Our world is undisturbed by the hammer. Only when the hammer or the car or the computer is broken (or sometimes unused or unrecognized or missing) does it intrude into our world, become conspicuous as an object present-at-hand, or vorhanden . In this case, we reach for the hammer, it is broken and we suddenly notice it’s being, broken though it is. The thing which was always ready to hand—handy—is suddenly abstract, something to be examined, if only in its absence or disfunction. This can be exhibited for all entities, and it is important to note that in this analysis the zuhanden / vorhanden split is not restricted to a specific form of constructed material; zuhanden does not refer to the car, and vorhanden the sunset. No entity is ever exclusively ready-to-hand or present-at-hand; they are instead, interpenetrated with each others mode of being, one informing the other in a way that both brings things forth into the world—discloses is the word Heidegger chooses—and at the same time conceals them. As one mode is coming to be so another mode is withdrawing. This flux and movement between modes is precisely what brings the world forward, and what makes it manifest. It exists beyond where we tread and before man took dubious control of the world. We go to find a book or turn on the computer and it is missing or broken and we become aware of the object, as though for the first time. We walk to the water to glimpse the sunset and miss it, or it is less than stellar; in the sunset’s grayness, we become aware of it’s being sunset. The thing is disclosed in its withdrawal. Echoing Heraclitus, we can say that as something is coming to be, it is already becoming something other. Of similar importance to the fact that things are never all of one, or all of the other, they are also never alone. The hammer is never a single object, but is in relation always to the whole. Heidegger (1962) states, Equipment—in accordance with its equipmentality—always is in terms of its belonging to other equipment: ink-stand, pen, ink, paper, blotting pad, table, lamp, furniture, windows, doors, room. These ‘Things’ never show themselves proximally as they are for themselves…What we encounter as closest to us…is the room; and we encounter it not as something ‘between four walls’ in a geometrical, spatial sense, but as equipment for residing…it is in this that any ‘individual’ item of equipment shows itself. Before its does so, a totality of equipment has already been discovered (97). Equipment resides—dwells—in its relations, in its proximal being to other beings. Within the structure of totality, a series of relations is always occurring. The hammer is on the workbench in the carpenter’s hand in the workshop in the village under the sky and under the sun. It doesn’t stop there. Equipment surrounds us and the focus is not on what it does, or what one does with it—the carpenter with the hammer, the writer with laptop—but with the fact that it is. Equipment occurs in relation and is always occurring around us overhead, underfoot, by the stream and in the city. There is a constant exchange of relations happening, and as this occurs, so the world occurs, so the world both discloses and withdraws, into and out of itself. In a very real sense, language is also equipment. It is the thing that we use most often without thought, it is ready-to-hand (except when it’s not.) As we re- cognize the world around us, as we offer names for things and make lists, we are using language much like we might use a hammer, that is, bluntly. Most of the time it is invisible and we draw on it without wondering how we are going to say something. When language does intrude, it does so in an awkward moment, that moment when we can’t remember the right word, when we forget a phrase. At that second, it “speaks itself as language,” it reveals itself as malfunctioning equipment, and we “undergo” an experience with language, in Heidegger’s famous formulation. Language is not a tool anymore that we use to bludgeon an object, but something instead that we submit to, that we experience. In “The Nature of Language,” Heidegger (1982) writes, But when does language speak to us as language? Curiously enough, when we cannot find the right word for something that concerns us, carries us away, oppresses or encourages us. Then we leave unspoken what we have in mind and, without rightly giving it a thought, undergo moments in which language itself has distantly and fleetingly touched us with its essential being (59). The poet’s words become themselves, become appropriate, only when they no longer function in the prosaic world; they instead intrude as they come to be. Language itself brings itself to language. Names, like the entities they indicate, are always becoming something else. As noted above, language, through the poet, has brought forth entities from words previously “known.” I thought that I knew snow, but through Trakl’s re- presentation of the word, language calls forth a new image of snow, indeed calls forth snow itself. The vesper bell tolls longer, the table is for many laid. In bringing forth things , language has brought the world to presence. In everyday naming, word occludes world, preventing, in its everydayness, its coming forth, its disclosing. But what is this world that word has been brought forth into? In the same way that language speaks, world worlds. World, left alone, un-interfered with, comes into itself. It worlds. Again, this sounds like a tautology, but it is essential to Heidegger’s thought (and in my mind is more of a “god killer” than Nietzsche.) One of the most overlooked (and under-appreciated) aspects of Heidegger is his later examination and enthusiasm for the “fourfold,” or the system through which things come to be, through which things thing in a world worlding. The fourfold is the interaction of earth and sky, mortals and gods. Things come to be in the interstices and gathering of the fourfold. The fourfold provides both a place of being, and a sheltering, a place to dwell. Heidegger writes that “the things that were named, thus called, gather to themselves sky and earth, mortals and divinities. The four are united primally in being toward one another, a fourfold.” The poet has called, through the act of pure naming, things to come forth. In the purity of the fourfold—that is, when that is all that there is, when there are no other distractions, definitions, things—entities themselves can come to be. It is important to note that Heidegger is not saying that there are four formal things in the world, autonomous entities unto themselves. He is not evoking a pre-Socratic formula as to what makes up the world; instead, the four mirror each other constantly. (Heidegger calls this the ‘mirror-play.’) They interpenetrate in the same way that the modes of being of things interpenetrate themselves. There is no discrete exclusivity in being or the fourfold. What makes up things is not a precise recipe of the four main components; what makes up things is the action of the fourfold coming together, the movement of the fourfold which is a becoming. Heidegger (2001) writes that “this gathering, assembling, letting stay is the thinging of things.” And he later adds that “thinging, things are things. Thinging, they gesture—gestate—world” (197). Language brings the world to be. It works not again as a recipe added to things, but instead it is a bridge, or more precisely, a relation. Language relates world to thing, brings world to thing. In a sense, it does not say anything; rather it allows, or calls in its movement. Heidegger (2001) writes that, The intimacy of world and thing is not a fusion. Intimacy obtains only where the intimate—world and thing—divides itself cleanly and remains separated. In the midst of the two, in the between of world and thing, in their inter, division prevails: a dif-ference (199). It is in this inter that language prevails. Language is difference, it is the differential aspect between world and thing that brings world to thing. In the final stanza of Trakl’s poem “The Winter Evening,” Trakl evokes this difference in the second line when he writes, “Pain has turned the threshold to stone.” Christopher Fynsk, in his essay “Noise at the Threshold,” draws attention to this point when he writes “it is the figure of the threshold that is language itself, inasmuch as language is defined as the articulation of difference by which difference comes about” (25). Language, as used in the pure language of the poem, draws together world and thing, bridging relation between entity and world. The calling of language calls world to thing, world to being. Heidegger (2001) describes this difference as unique; “of itself, it holds apart the middle in and through which world and things are at one with each other” (200). III. Neither reading nor writing, nor speaking—and yet it is by those paths that we escape what has been said already, and knowledge, and reciprocity, and enter the unknown space, the space of distress where what is given is perhaps not received by anyone (99). Maurice Blanchot The Writing of Disaster So far, we have allowed Heidegger to put forward what language does, how it functions as a relation and how it operates as a threshold, as a bridge. What interests me is what happens beyond language, beyond the relation. What happens to the thing without the naming, without the poet, or even without the everyday chatter—Fynsk calls this ‘noise’—intruding on being? If language allows things to become by bringing thing to world, what happens when we remove this bringing, this threshold turned to pain? In “The Nature of Language,” Heidegger examines the work of the poet Stefan George, specifically “The Word”: Wonder or dream from distant land I carried to my county’s strand And waited till the twilight norn Had found the name within her bourn— Then I could grasp it close and strong It blooms and shines now the front along… Once I returned from happy sail, I had a prize so rich and frail, She sought for long and tidings told: “No like of these depths unfold.” And straight it vanished from my hand, The treasure never graced my land… So I renounced and sadly see: Where word breaks off no thing may be. That final line, “Where word breaks off no thing may be” is evoked on nearly every page of Heidegger’s essay. It is the line to which he returns over and over and bears repeating. Where word breaks off no thing may be. Where naming ends, no thing. We can interpret this in two ways (at least.) Where word—naming—breaks off, then there is nothing . Or, as I choose to read it, where word breaks off no thing may be. In this I see a hint forward, a marker left behind by Heidegger. What could this look like? What does no thing look like? Like a zen koan ( there is no mirror ) it is as thrilling and horrifying as contemplating what preceded the Big Bang. Because language as naming wasn’t always here; we weren’t always here. One or maybe two aspects of the fourfold (depending on your view of gods) were not always here, and there is no guarantee that we will always be around. What then? Heidegger (1982) describes the landscape that the poet finds, “It names the realm into which the renunciation must enter: it names the call to enter into that relation between thing and word which has now been experienced” (65). The poet, in renouncing, allows for the “may be” of “where word breaks off no thing may be.” This “may be” becomes “a kind of imperative, a command which the poet follows, to keep it from then on.” No thing is lacking. Where word breaks off, there may be, a totality, a completion. If we place the emphasis on may be , we make it affirmative, make it positive. One allows it. No thing is where the word, that is the name, is lacking. If we remove then (if we can remove) the word, the name, than that is where no thing is, that is where no thing may blossom, enrich, belong, become. What is no thing? Heidegger writes that “thing is anything that in any way is.” And just after this he writes that the “world alone gives being to the thing.” But what happens if there is no word? Word, in this formulation can be seen as an enframing, a challenging of language. By naming, by drawing a perimeter around an object, we hold it, by its definition (that is a brick) to an ordered future. If we borrow from Heidegger’s essay “The Question Concerning Technology” (1993) the idea of this standing-reserve of an ordered future, we see that “everywhere everything is ordered to stand by, to be immediately on hand, indeed to stand there just so that it may be on call for a further ordering” (322). What happens if there is no naming of the thing? Silence perhaps. Stillness. We can name—and do name—that which we know. We equate knowledge with knowing the name of something. A brick is a brick, a hammer is a hammer, the universe is the universe. By naming a thing, we create, and draw its parameters, the parameters of the thing, not as thing thinging in the fourfold, but as blunt object apparent. In the four dimensions relatively available to us, we observe (and name) that the brick takes up possibly six by four by two inches and is, in the sense that it currently occupies this time slot. It fulfills its destiny, its being, its brickness, it bricks . But what happens when we remove the name for this brick. We no longer know what to call this no-thing (if indeed we can even arrive at the point of uncalled calling.) In fact the it (this brick) is no longer a thing in the sense that by not naming—by removing the name—it still occupies the same dimension but is indiscernible from the world. It simply is , un-reliant, un- needed by me. By removing the subject (me) from it (the brick) do I not then also remove the object—or at least the duality objectifying it? Why is this important? Why does this matter? I have not really removed anything. I have not changed any thing , per se . The brick still occupies the same space in geographic and temporal dimensions. I have literally not even touched the brick sitting on my desk. But what I have done is removed the name, removed the word (the bridge, according to Heidegger) and in this (again, if this is even possible) there is something vertiginously liberating, not only for me (and my way of thinking) but also for the brick itself. Like the poet who calls the thing forward, by refusing to name, by avoiding any thing that demands me to name it, I release the thing into the fourfold. I am no longer challenging the thing to be there for me ; I do not en frame it through language. Rather I, in an act of extreme responsibility, am refusing the challenge. By refusing the name (refusing to name) one allows, (or no one allows no thing) the brick to be all things , to manifest its manifold being, to incorporate all things into its thinging . It becomes, quite literally, every thing . Because, in its infinite manifestness, it incorporates everything; the mud that gave it its current being, the water that formed the mud, the sun, the stars, the universe and it also allows it to become mud again, to become landfill, to become again, water and sun and stars and universe in an endless, infinite cycle of coming to be some thing (else). Perhaps this is what Heidegger is suggesting when he talks about the stillness at the end of his essay, “Language” (2001): The dif-ference stills particularly in two ways: it stills the things in thinging and the world in worlding. Thus stilled, thing and world never escape from the dif-ference. Rather, they rescue it in the stilling, where the dif-ference is itself the stillness (206). It is in this stillness that I can imagine a gellasenheit (here I mean both “releasement in the Heideggarean sense, as well as Meister Eckhart’s use of the term meaning “letting the world go and giving oneself to God”) of thing and world, a releasing into the stillness and silence of no thing beyond where word breaks off. It is here where I may no longer be, and yet no thing is, but may be. (shrink)

Es de notar desde e] principio la actitud afirmativa, superadora, en la filosofía de Nietzsche y su mediación para sentir y crear bellamente, pues él se toma en serio el problema de la estética, como la actividad propiamente metafísica, en sentido schopenhaueriano. Aquí referimos nuestra meditación al aforismo 276 de El Cay saber «Quiero aprender cada vez más, a ver lo necesario como bello en las cosas y así seré uno de los que embellecen las cosas. Amorfati: que esto desde (...) ahora esté en mi amor. No quiero acusar, tampoco quiero acusar al acusador. ¡Mi única negación sea a~adar la mirada! Y de una vez y en grande, quiero en todo momento no ser más que un hombre siempre afirmativo.» También, en Así habló Zaratustra 1, muestra Nietzsche bella y estimulante la admiración ante la necesidad: «Oh voluntad, cambio de toda necesidad! ¡tú, mi necesidad. Resérvame para una gran victoria!» Lo que acontece necesariamente, lo que se nos impone por la fuerza de las cosas, que no puede ser cambiado en sí mismo, abre sin embargo una posibilidad de diferente actitud en el modo de vivirlo y quien vive conscientemente lo inexorable puede «ver lo necesario como bello en las cosas». Es el desarrollo de su primera actitud científico filológica, cuando este joven profesor quiere expresar lo más hondo de la cultura griega en El nacimiento de la tragedia, donde manifiesta su profundamente sentida admiración por la vida y la cultura del pueblo heleno, en los últimos párrafos, con las palabras del extranjero que exclama: «cuánto tuvo que sufrir este pueblo para haber llegado a ser tan bello». De este modo, belleza y sufrimiento se hacen constitutivos de la vida trágica como puede ser afrontar con elevación, imprimiendo un bello sentido a cuanto la necesidad nos impone. (shrink)

In this study, we are addressing the call for further research (Aikhenvald 2015) into how languages, in our case Modern Greek, mark the unexpected. Our first research question is: Can we identify a class of mirative evidential markers in Modern Greek? The expected answer is that we can, if we take account of frequency rates in a variety of sources in the real world, namely plays, corpora and tags in social media. The second research question is: Do these markers convey (...) propositional or non-propositional meaning? Our findings suggest that the Greek data involves predominantly non-propositional types of meaning since mirativity is not delivered by the semantic content of the utterance (e.g., Ooo! Tí vlépoun ta mátia mou? “Oh! What do I see?”, Ma ti les tóra? “But what are you saying now?”, Ba ba ti akoúo? “Well, well, what do I hear?” Mi mou pis! ‘Don’t tell me!’). (shrink)

This paper examines the influence of CEO career horizon problems on corporate social responsibility. We assume that as CEOs are getting older, they tend to disengage in CSR due to their shorter career horizons. We further argue that high levels of industry-level discretion and blockholder ownership amplify the negative effects of CEO age on CSR. Using a panel sample of US-based firms over 2004–2009, we do not find the main effect of CEO age on CSR, but find support for the (...) moderating effects, such that CEO age is negatively associated with CSR when there are high levels of ILD and blockholder ownership. Therefore, results suggest that CEO career horizon problems matter for CSR when CEOs have sufficient discretion over the firm’s strategic decisions and outside blockholders put more pressure on CEOs to engage in financial earning management. (shrink)

Analytical study of 'Pramāṇa' in Mīmāṃsā philosophy in the light of Śāstradīpikā by Pārthasārathimiśra, active 11th century.

This study examines how the corporate philanthropy decisions of group-affiliated firms in Korea are made. Based on the attention-based view, we argue that when corporate decision makers at group-affiliated firms focus their attention more on internal markets than external stakeholders because of the firm’s high reliance on intragroup transactions, the firm will decrease its level of corporate philanthropy. We further argue that the relationship will be stronger when governance mechanisms focus on the instrumental value of corporate philanthropy. Using a panel (...) sample of group-affiliated firms in Korea from 2011 to 2015, we find that as intragroup sales increase, the level of corporate philanthropy decreases, and such a negative relationship is stronger when outside director representation and foreign investor ownership are high. Our study suggests that internal dependence and corporate governance mechanisms jointly affect the level of corporate philanthropy at firms in a business group. Thus, this study contributes to the literature on corporate philanthropy, business group, and corporate governance. (shrink)

Greening Philosophy of Religion: Process, Ecology, and Ethics develops fruitful avenues for the theory and practice of greening philosophy of religion. Collected with a pluralistic conception of both philosophy and religion, the chapters in this volume address pressing and timely issues that involve imagining ecological democracy as an ideal horizon for facing climate catastrophe, with a radical hope and sober vision for realizing a more sustainable planetary economy that places a high value on food sovereignty, an ethic of trust, and (...) inter-religious conversations. Edited by Jea Sophie Oh and John Quiring, this book offers a vital contribution to the fields of philosophy of religion, environmental ethics, religion and ecology, comparative philosophy, and ecotheology-all tuned to the note of process thinking and a deep ecological sensibility. (shrink)

The main objective of this book is to present the theory of general relativity in a direction that will be intelligible, informative, and interesting to the individual reader. Many of the texts about general relativity are either too thin on detail or too narrow in scope; this book was written with the aim of rectifying these shortcomings.

This research provides an exploratory investigation of whether gift/help-receiving contexts that elicit mixed emotional variants of gratitude can be distinguished from typical gratitude-eliciting situations in their associated appraisals, action tendencies, and psychosocial effects. We examined 473 participants (159 males, 312 females, 2 others; Mage = 31.07) using a one-way four-conditions between-subjects experiment. Participants were randomly assigned to complete recall tasks describing four different gratitude-eliciting situations. Emotions, cognitive appraisals, action tendencies, and general psychosocial outcomes were assessed. Relative to a control condition (...) involving receiving a gift or help (gift/help condition), receiving something at the expense of a benefactor (benefactor-inconvenience condition) elicited gratitude-guilt; receiving something with an expectation of return (return-favour condition) elicited gratitude-disappointment and gratitude-anger; while receiving a disliked gift or receiving assistance that made things worse (backfire condition) primarily elicited gratitude-disappointment while also eliciting gratitude-anger and gratitude-guilt. Each condition was differentiable from control in their appraisals, action tendencies, and psychosocial effects. Notably, contexts which elicited mixed emotional variants of gratitude were characterised by the co-occurrence of conflicting appraisals such as pleasantness and unpleasantness or goal-congruence and goal-incongruence. Additionally, the return-favour and backfire conditions were most dissimilar from control, and were associated with the most negative action tendencies and psychosocial outcomes. (shrink)

In Korean, reference forms can be omitted so long as the referent can be understood by the interlocutor; speaker/recipient reference terms are most readily omitted because they are easily retrievable from the physical interactional context. The current study represents the first attempt to examine specifically when and why Korean speakers do use an overt reference form in referring to themselves or their recipients even when reference can be understood without such overt forms. It demonstrates that Korean speakers build their talk (...) to incorporate an overt form of speaker/ recipient reference in order to accomplish various interactional projects praising/blaming, responsibility-attribution, disagreement, projecting further talk by the current speaker, or selecting next speaker), often marking that reference form with a particle relevant to the specific action being implemented. Doing overt reference to speaker or recipient is thus a means by which speakers can accomplish other than simple reference that is done with zero anaphora. (shrink)

Study on the Mimamsa school, as expounded by Jaimini, in Hindu philosophy.

Nurses are frequently confronted with ethical dilemmas in their nursing practice. As a consequence, nurses report experiencing moral distress. The aim of this review was to synthesize the available quantitative evidence in the literature on moral distress experienced by nurses. We appraised 19 articles published between January 1984 and December 2011. This review revealed that many nurses experience moral distress associated with difficult care situations and feel burnout, which can have an impact on their professional position. Further research is required (...) to examine worksite strategies to support nurses in these situations and to develop coping strategies for dealing with moral distress. (shrink)

Relatively little research has examined the effects of ownership on the firms’ corporate social responsibility (CSR). In addition, most of it has been conducted in the Western context such as the U.S. and Europe. Using a sample of 118 large Korean firms, we hypothesize that different types of shareholders will have distinct motivations toward the firm’s CSR engagement. We break down ownership into different groups of shareholders: institutional, managerial, and foreign ownerships. Results indicate a significant, positive relationship between CSR ratings (...) and ownership by institutions and foreign investors. In contrast, shareholding by top managers is negatively associated with firm’s CSR rating while outside director ownership is not significant. We conclude that different owners have differential impacts on the firm’s CSR engagement. (shrink)

On the life and works of Maṇḍanamiśra, ancient Hindu philosopher.

Hindi translation and interpretation of Mīmāmṣābhāṣya of Śabarasvāmi, commentary on Mīmāṃsāsūtra of Jaimini, classical work on Mimamsa philosophy; includes Sanskrit text of Mīmāṃāsūtra of Jaimini.

In the paper, I first consider how his theory of social norms is connected to his theory of social evolution by examining the importance of learning in his theory of both social norms and social evolution. Then I turn to David Owen and Amy Allen's critiques of Jürgen Habermas. My aim is to develop their critique of Habermas by elucidating an important but neglected distinction between the developmental logic and the developmental dynamics in Habermas's theory of social evolution. Drawing on (...) this distinction, I claim that Habermas's theory is problematic in that he underestimates the importance of the developmental dynamics. By introducing the distinction between individual learning and social learning, I also question his account of progress as accumulative experience of learning. This is because, unlike cumulative culture at the level of phylogenesis, individuals ontogenetically experience a kind of non‐cumulative social learning. Unlike cumulative culture, each individual has to undergo a kind of non‐cumulative social learning. The problem is that Habermas conceives the learning process too narrowly such that learning does not guarantee social evolution. (shrink)

Their treatment of such human rights political participation, freedom of conscience, and religious toleration demonstrate, Oh says, that Islam should have a ...