Common wisdom includes expressions such as “there is no accounting for taste'’ that express a widely-accepted subjectivism about taste. We commonly say things like “I can’t stand anything with onions in it'’ or “Oh, I’d never eat sushi,'’ and we accept such from our friends and associates. It is the position of this essay that much of this language is actually quite unacceptable. Without appealing to complete objectivism about taste, I will argue that there are good reasons to think that (...) there will be fairly wide agreement between experienced palates on aesthetic preferences, and that this result will not necessarily agree with unexperienced and unreflective opinions on the matter. Subjectivism about aesthetic preference can be taken to justify the practice of picking eating (after all, who is better to say what I’ll enjoy than me?), while the position of this paper is that such picky eating is a moral failing. To be a picky eater is to have a significant lack of openness to new experiences. It involves an irresponsible level of fallibilism with respect to taste. Never venturing into new aesthetic landscapes leads to a sort of repetitiveness, which in turn leads to a life full of blandness and banality. (shrink)

This essay, by the editor of Common Knowledge, introduces the sixth and final installment of “Fuzzy Studies,” the journal's “Symposium on the Consequence of Blur.” Suggesting that “Fuzzy Studies” should be understood in the context of a desultory campaign against zeal conducted in the journal for almost twenty years, he explains that the editors' assumption has been that any authentic case for the less adamant modes of thinking, or the less focused ways of seeing, needs to be unenthusiastic and carefully (...) ramified. To establish the distinction between overenthused and unemphatic approaches to blur, he contrasts the ecstatically amorphous “Blur building” (on Switzerland's Lake Neuchâtel) with examples of classical Chinese landscape painting. Elizabeth Diller and Richard Scofidio, in their book blur: the making of nothing, chronicle the development of their plans for the Blur building and, in the process, inadvertently show that, to overbear various negative associations of blur and fog, the authors/architects grew self-contradictorily emphatic about the need to produce de-emphasis in architecture and in modern life. Perl shows how this self-contradiction appears also in phenomenology-inflected writings on blur by T. J. Clark, Yve-Alain Bois and Rosalind Kraus, J.-P. Sartre, and Georges Bataille, but not in the work of the phenomenologist (and sinologist) François Jullien, whose book The Great Image Has No Form analyzes the role of blur in classical Chinese art theory and practice. Where traditional Western painting, Jullien argues, calls for voyeuristically intense focus, traditional Chinese painting stimulates “dé-tente, relaxation or ‘untensing’.” Intense focus on a blur is still, Perl observes, an intense focus. In describing a painting by the Yuan Dynasty master Ni Zan, Perl concludes that the only way to be un-self-contradictorily positive about fuzziness, whether in logic or aesthetics, is to de-reify and de-differentiate with the aim of achieving blandness. (shrink)

Dennett’s story “Where am I?” is used to set up the difficulty of locating the self in the natural world. The story is told from a first-person point of view in which the narrator maintains his identity across exchanges of brain and body, but there is no physical thing in the story that can act as bearer of his identity. The story seems to present a dilemma between Cartesian dualism and Dennett’s a “no-self” view. This chapter argues for a third (...) option. Prepersonal processes in the brain stabilize separable conceptions of self and world out of patterns in sensory information. The conception of self starts out as a mere sensorimotor point of view but gradually develops into something richer. Seeing how the first-person point of view arises is seeing how the self arises, because the self is nothing but the proper subject of a first-person point of view. (shrink)

Like any other group of philosophers, scholastic thinkers from the Middle Ages disagreed about even the most fundamental of concepts. With their characteristic style of rigorous semantic and logical analysis, they produced a wide variety of diverse theories about a huge number of topics. The Routledge Companion to Medieval Philosophy offers readers an outstanding survey of many of these diverse theories, on a wide array of subjects. Its 35 chapters, all written exclusively for this Companion by leading international scholars, are (...) organized into seven parts: I Language and Logic II Metaphysics III Cosmology and Physics IV Psychology V Cognition VI Ethics and Moral Philosophy VII Political Philosophy In addition to shedding new light on the most well-known philosophical debates and problems of the medieval era, the Companion brings to the fore topics that may not traditionally be associated with scholastic philosophy, but were in fact a veritable part of the tradition. These include chapters covering scholastic theories about propositions, atomism, consciousness, and democracy and representation. The Routledge Companion to Medieval Philosophy is a helpful, comprehensive introduction to the field for undergraduate students and other newcomers as well as a unique and valuable resource for researchers in all areas of philosophy. (shrink)

This book examines the central ideas that defined the debate about divine production in the Trinity in the late 13th and early 14th centuries, namely those of Henry of Ghent, John Duns Scotus, and William Ockham. Their discussions are significant for the history of trinitarian theology and the history of philosophy.

This chapter discusses “conceptual evolution” and the role of the environment in maintaining an invariant link between thought and the world. It shows how coordination breaks down when one moves into unaccustomed circumstances, and describes a general technique for decoupling thought from context by developing an increasingly articulated representation of the causal fabric in which phenomenal states are embedded. It then recommends a generalization of Perry's vocabulary of unarticulated constituents. Finally, the chapter brings the discussion back around and incorporates this (...) into the general story of how the mind turns the fragile, fleeting links provided by experience into reliable, continuing connections that reach far into the spatial landscape and deeply into the circle of causes. (shrink)

This chapter begins with a discussion of Dennett's view of self-representation. It introduces the so-called “Joycean Machine”, special narrative module in the brain charged with production of an autobiography. It is argued that the synchronic unity of the thinking subject is the unity of voice and agency wrought by the unifying activity of the Joycean Machine. In dynamical terms, the collective voice can have a causal role. Turned outward, it can mediate the communication between systems, allowing them to act as (...) unified agents in interaction with one another. Turned inward, it can govern the activity of the components. (shrink)

This essay is a critique of medical/clinical ethics from the personal perspective of a medical historian in an academic health science centre who has interacted with ethicists. It calls for greater transparency and accountability of ethicists involved in ‘bedside consulting;’ it questions the wisdom of the four principles of biomedical ethics and their American cultural origins with respect to training; challenges the authority of ‘core competencies’ for ethicists as identified by the American Society for Bioethics and Humanities; and muses over (...) the apparent reintroduction of religion into clinical medicine through the medium of bioethics. This essay is designed to provoke reflection on the putative ‘professionalism’ of the consulting ethics enterprise for which educational baselines and curricula are not standardized. By analysing sources such as the professional material communicated by the Canadian Bioethics Society, it also critiques the collective ethical shortcoming... (shrink)

Many critics have condemned, some have defended, Euripides for composing a play ‘altogether wanting in the satisfaction which nothing but a unity of ideas could produce.’ It helps us little to marvel, with Paley, at the ‘obtuseness of critics who forsooth prefer “unity of ideas” to profoundly moving incidents, etc.,’ though it may be admitted that Paley has detected part of the truth when he calls attention to the importance of the fact that Athens is, throughout the play, the only (...) possible asylum for the hero. Verrall's analysis has the merit that it attempts to account for the play as a whole, but it is hard to believe that the Athenian audience was composed of subtle critics, endowed with Verrall's ingenuity and acumen. Still, though it is easy to disagree with Verrall, it is less easy to give the reasons for one's disagreement. In detail one can say: ‘The straightforward and obvious sense of the words is adequate; the subtle suggestion is not likely to have occurred to an audience which had never heard of Schlegel or of Swinburne.’ That leaves us with the fact that the impression made on most of us by the whole work is not one of formal perfection. To most readers there seem to be three episodes, each excellent, but not intimately connected with the other two: in the first we are concerned for the fate of the tyrant Lycus, and rejoice at his just destruction; in the second we are moved by the sudden reversal in the fortunes of the beneficent Heracles; and in the third we are impressed by the magnanimity, and, perhaps, delighted with the Athenian connections, of the excellent Theseus. There is a good deal of talk which we ascribe to the tendency of Euripides to make his characters the mouthpieces for current debate. There are choral odes which we think charming, but, on the whole and as a rule, slightly irrelevant to the main ‘incidents.’ My purpose in this paper is to suggest, first, that the audience was occupied with certain quite familiar ideas upon which Euripides has built his play, and was, therefore, not at leisure to catch at subtleties of detail, suggestions, ambiguities, ironies, points of logic and of lack of logic, such as Verrall emphasizes; and, secondly, that if we also remember these ideas, we shall find both unity in the construction and relevance in the choral odes. (shrink)

In his masterly work on Tarentum, P. Wuilleumier identifies the Galaesus with the Citrezze or Giadrezze, a small stream running into the north side of the Mare Piccolo, about two miles from the channel on the west side of the citadel of Tarentum which connects the Mare Piccolo with the sea. This identification, which has been often repeated since Lenormant's time and spread beyond the narrow bounds of pure scholarship by the writings of George Gissing , Norman Douglas , and (...) David Randall-Madver , is likely to hold the field by virtue, of Wuilleumier's support. But it is irreconcilable with the only ancient evidence on the position of this river, given in the account of Hannibal's movements in 212 B.C. (shrink)

This chapter begins with a discussion of the objection Anscombe lodged against Descartes, to illustrate the gap between the momentary subject of the reflexive thought and the temporally extended subject to which we attribute thought and experience. It defends a familiar view about identity over time, underscoring how some of the most puzzling features of thought about ourselves can be resolved by focusing on the architectural underbelly of thought. It argues that identification of oneself in thought in a manner that (...) supports reidentification is just indexical identification, characterized by the very special feature that identification is made without any conceptualization. (shrink)